1
I’m just a girl from Tripoli
Naive and sometimes wicked
I let half of my friends burn in my memory
Every day I write, this is my only knowledge
I approach volcanoes
And in my writing I make brothers out of enemies
I make them toast and die without a fight
I have left behind heavy times
And I build my personal time
I don’t care how many eyes catch my mistakes
Nor how many dogs bark at my lazy caravan
I am a girl from Tripoli
My desires are as simple as the roof of my house
I wait for the war to end
So I can sit in a bar with my beloved
So my little ones can grow in a garden instead of in fear
So i can write my novel, Maymouna the Libyan.
2
I hold the world by its one testicle
I engrave a tattoo on its broken leg
I tell it you are a wounded horse that must die
With a coup de grace so as not to bring pain to anyone
I stuff its mouth with old newspapers to muffle its screams
You know how everyone likes to cry out
They cry out in pain, happiness, suffering and pleasure
Yesterday I picked up the cries of cats and children
And those of ants in the center of the earth
I put them in a bottle
And let it fall to the ground
The world thus became mute
and since that day it stammers and perks up its ear, pretending
to hear us.
Samira Albouzedi, born in 1969 in Tripoli (Libya,) has been writing poetry and publishing since 1994. She has published in national newspapers and magazines and in those of the Arab world, has participated in many poetry meetings in Libya and abroad, her work has been analyzed in several papers. She has participated in many festivals and conferences including the Sète festival in France, and has been panelist in conferences in Tunisia and Morocco. Her works include : under air raids, the door of the dream , the world awakens in a fright.
