To get on a bus without checking,
to leave the country hijacking,
to sit in a bar and start random chatting,
to tell stories you heard or make a setting,
to enter mosques-churches marveling,
to cross a forest and find a dwelling,
to live with animals and enjoy petting,
to work with two hands and enjoy sweating,
to lick your injuries as it’s helping,
to put on some ice and watch it melting,
to ask for shelter while you’re healing,
to open your heart with all revealing,
to share what cities you’ve been watching,
to be the one who starts touching,
to have a night that’s been worth for living,
to live only for a chance for giving,
to fancy that the future’s brightening,
to live in the now without hiding,
then, in the bed, when we are tiring,
stop a while this dreamlist’s writing,
close our eyes – long – and smiling,
this was our life I could be admiring.

Benyamin Bensalah


Attila József: Motivating

In China, there’s hanging tangerine.
Today has killed the cocaine.
The straw is buzzing, go to sleep.
Today has killed the cocaine.

Through the window of the store
Till the cashier, sees the poor.
The straw is buzzing, go to sleep.
Till the cashier, sees the poor.

Take a sausage and take some bread,
keep well your living breath.
The straw is buzzing, go to sleep,
keep well your living breath.

Whoever will cook, will kiss, too,
once, there will be a woman, too.
The straw is buzzing, go to sleep,
once, there will be a woman, too.

Benyamin Bensalah


Translated from the Hungarian poem of Attila József, “Biztató” (1927).

The Deep Embrace

Even if its sea is silver-
And golden is its shore,
I should never be going there-
To the sea of sore and sorrow,
Not anymore.

Where faceless phantoms sing-
Lunatic nightmares,
My place desires but to sink-
Deep into the wares and blue,
More and more.

Their song is about people-
Hurting, violating,
Their air is violent, purple-
Breathing, exhaling the hate,
More and more.

Reaching the charmed deep-
Their hate is fading,
Fades the desire to weep-
To be living down the surface,
More and more.

Even if its sea is silver-
And golden is its shore,
I should never be going there-
To the sea of sore and sorrow,
Not anymore.

Benyamin Bensalah


Gift belief

I don’t believe that life is a gift –
More like a glitch,
But I do believe that I am a gift –
For everybody.


Taken my existence as a glitch –
In the life of others,
The main thing that pushes me is –


If my life must be a mistake –
Keepin’ it non-contagious,
I will try to make others’ better –
Like being generous…

Benyamin Bensalah



O’ miserable me, being under pressure
Of life, lust and other human finance!
How long you desired that you’ll never belong,
How far you’ll strive being among them one?

So, silly you! Still enjoying your yeaning conscience –
The machine installed only with pain and pathos,
Tell me how do you feel now, O’ fan of fun,
Tell me if your game is steer’d or just chaos.

O’ me, poor poet, unknowing the words –
Words that may help you in your play,
But you use them on no wealth nor on the heart of a madam –
But you paint the already dark world into your painful plaint.

Oh! Those empty words addressing diaries and deities!
Just use them, damn use them in the sake of money!
Enjoy the life as others see it: hell funny,
Enjoy the joy of flesh, blood and honey!

Even the purest girl is a matter of ware –
In the purest whorehouse as on the Sphere!
No matter! Enjoy, you’ll die out like the ideas as laisse-faire –
No matter! Enjoy, you’re dying already as my dog died, Dexter.

So, miserable me, undress your pressure as well your obstacles,
Since you are just a poor condemned and damn poet-animal –
Spend, spend your life no more under pressure,
Spend, spend it as a vital – without depression.

Benyamin Bensalah


Just ahead

Oh come on!
Just go on!
Stop standing about!
Go ahead!

You hear the noise.
The noise of the steps.
Its black flag.
Urging, nerving.

The priest is crying.
Around the grave allying.
The big crowd.
You are behind.

Your silence is flying.
Noises of steps.
Not following anymore.
Silently flying.

Oh come on!
Just go on!
Stop standing about!
Fly ahead!

Benyamin Bensalah

Translated from my Hungarian poem “Csak Tovàbb” (2008)


À travers

The new smell of transportation,
The colors of a new landscape,
The unusual noises and languages;
It’s a must to travel in the present.

While we are lost in past events,
Our brain cells get overheated,
Get burnt with the old memories;
It becomes a must to travel.

The past needs to be cooled down,
Before it takes over the present,
Before it burns the bridges of future;
One needs to move forward.

We are inevitably slowing down,
Doing less motions, actions,
If we are stuck in the same directions;
We need a pushing force.

Sometimes, it’s new places,
A person or people,
Meaning past, present and future;
Making us feel to travel.

Benyamin Bensalah