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).

05.07.2017

The Venom of Life

Who said to taste the venom of life?
Its poison’s sneaking in the veins,
Taking six senses from the five,
Look how slowly it attacks the brains.
In several deceitful sweet delight,
Like sugar-cube it melts, if it rains.

Who said to taste the venom of life?
Its poison’s dwelling in the artery,
Taking six senses from the five,
Look how it makes the heart flurry.
Encouraging to reach the height,
It feints to make you jump from it.

Who said to taste the venom of life?
Its poison’s squelchin’ in the flesh,
Taking six senses from the five,
Look how it rots the fibers into trash.
That lift a great burden one time,
Under a lightsome burden will crash.

Who said to taste the venom of life?
Its poison’s running in the nerves,
Taking six senses from the five,
Look how many illusions it serves.
It’s inspiring the purest rhyme,
Reserving always the darkest verse.

Who said to taste the venom of life?
Its poison’s working in the bones,
Taking six senses from the five,
Look how it’s kissing the earth, downs.
Amourously with the earthly life,
It gets buried by earth and stones.

Who said to taste the venom of life?
Its poison’s smolderin’ in the soul,
Taking six senses from the five,
Look how it burns the deadly coeur.
Seeking salvation from living fire,
It feels thirsty for liquid death liquor.

Benyamin Bensalah

25.04.2016

Cyanide dreams

Perished is the land that steps rarely devour,
Yet, my legs find sweet grass and pleasure;
What a man ever sees desperate and bizarre,
The soul of mine dies for getting thither.

Acid is the daylight for the one in Desolace,
Sith only the moonlight bears for it solace;
Death’s servants are in every corner to face,
But does a blind face the lights as menace?

Your right hand is the darkness in darkness,
Every single sound, whisper is a menace;
While pleasure is lying in the deepest oblivion,
The one who dreams is the self-perished.

Benyamin Bensalah

22.09.2017

This heart is going to stop

This heart is going to stop.

It may be a scarry sound next to a pub,
A silent scattershot in a shop to rob,
An exciting smell in a chemic lab,
Or a short nap in a taxi cab.

Only God knows how it will end,
Passing through that particular land.

But indeed this heart is about to cease.

It is the keen and slow pain that nobody sees,
The heavy carelessness bringing no ease,
The fast heart-beaten minutes I lose,
My non-existent ecography’s hues.

Only God knows how it ends,
While I’m passing through all these lands.

Benyamin Bensalah

18.01.2018

Vive Viva

My master thesis, a hypothesis, aimed the connection of French and English,
Two close languages to my tongue;
“How come students are not learning English, rather they rely on speaking Frenglish:
Is that the influence of their mother tongue”?

I started reading the clumsy leading towards cross linguistic literature –
Saying proudly that it was long.
Consequently, I tended gently to test French students’ adventure:
What language do they belong?

The results showed me that there was a lack of learning English,
Relying too much on the royal French;
Students hated learning a language that’s gibberish,
Compared to the Romance branch.

Errors were made like they are likely saying to “attend a baby”,
Or “take a coffee” to their mouth;
French and English can be a source of hard joking maybe,
For it’s funny when we try to speak both.

Since le problème is still itchy ici, Frenglish spoken,
As teachers what should we do?
Let’s remind that French is just a Latin broken,
So, say learn English or you’ll be broken too.

Benyamin Bensalah

15.06.2019