The Pocket Poet’s Emerald

A pair of emerald eyes made a pauper-
To wish for a mountain of emeralds,
To provide a proper life for her:

I’ve been a man of no pretension;
My clothes with sockets-
-empty pockets.

I am giving restrained attention;
No countries with rockets-
-followed prophets.

I will promise her a convention;
The life of the prophets’-
-enow pockets.

I’d aspire to God’s protection;
The safety of this locket’s-
-enow pockets…

Benyamin Bensalah


Attila József : A Simple Poem

When everything gets dark and the sky splits in purple around us,
I would like to see your eyes.
When I see you, I’m only looking into your eyes and I wish to kiss
your hands bravely.
I’d like to kiss them, and when I am there, next to you, I know that
I won’t kiss your hands…

Benyamin Bensalah

Translated from the Hungarian poem of Attila József, “EGYSZERŰ VERS” (1922).


Ode to Inspiration

The wind is grinding words into my ears,
Followed by the sounds of the meridian,
A stone is not much, but I would not raise,
Nor my ears to a boring noise.

The only thing rising my regard,
You are, so mantle me, Oh sunshine!
Blind all my unease and pain,
Be the only light of my mind.

Feed me with words that are all yours,
Let me plough the sky! A pair of wings
To me! To rise me, Horus, into the high,
Lead me to the gate of your world

Ere long! There is not a minute my life,
Sing all thy wisdom to me,
What you see by thy hawk eyes,
Tell me all, my love.

Angel you are, I’m your preacher to hire,
I am to sleep, but inspire me more …

Benyamin Bensalah

Translated from my Hungarian poem, “Ihletnek fohász” (2009).


The personal impersonal

Cold I am as the warmth of the Tundra;
Yet, my true warmth is your celestial aurora.

My heart may fulfill a land with corpses;
It has just enough empathy;
Tho, my spirit rides on flying horses
Since XP is my only therapy.

Thirst is indeed rapturing;
The knowledgeable’s books, poems and words;
They all serve us nourishing,
Feeding our grey and dark matters with worlds.

Indeed, the world seems first illusory;
Exceptions against our principles;
Tho, we must swim only our story,
With or without flippers.

As good writers say;
Just give me a pen and a piece of paper;
I got you on a happy day,
Be ready to perfect all my prayer.

I’ve seen too much, my heart is weaken’d;
Happiness is emerged with dark;
Tho, these words are already hearkened,
God’s given me you instead of heart.

I feel coldness, but you dress warm the Tundra;
Sith, my warmth is your celestial aurora.

Benyamin Bensalah


Just a girl

I’m ravished.
By a fairy creature,
By her hair’s beaconly feature;
On her shoulders, wavery lianes,
Beautiful obsidians.
I’m ravished.
By a star-eyed pixie,
By those eyes’ divine fancy;
Into a cell grabbed and walled,
Sparkling emerald.
I’m ravished.
By Snow White’s ideal,
By her cheeks smooth reel;
On her lips crimson burns reddy,
Sensual ruby.
I’m ravished.
By the dress of dark nights,
By her lightsome body’s sights;
That I would like to eat-devour,
Sweet amour.
I’m ravished.
By a humble girl,
By her plaint for an earl;
I’d attest to guard her for free,
But who would save her from me?
I would ravish her.

Benyamin Bensalah

Translated from my Hungarian poem, “Csak egy lány” (2007).