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    Time
    Time
    Time
    Ebook127 pages44 minutes

    Time

    By Etel Adnan

    4.5/5

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    About this ebook

    On October 27, 2003, Adnan received a post card of a palm tree from the poet Khaled Najar, who she had met in the late seventies in Tunisia, sparking a collection of poems that would unspool over the next decade in a continuous discovery of the present moment. Originally written in French, these poems collapse time into single crystallized moments then explode outward to take in the scope of human history. In Time, we see an intertwining of war and love, coffee and bombs, empathetic observation and emphatic detail taken from both memory and the present of the poem to weave a tapestry of experience in non-linear time.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherNightboat Books
    Release dateJun 23, 2020
    ISBN9781643620572
    Time

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      Book preview

      Time - Etel Adnan

      OCTOBER 27, 2003

      I say that I’m not afraid

      of dying because I haven’t

      yet had the experience

      of death

      on the walls of an overheated

      bedroom images on paper

      fade like my bones in a bed

      women love the night

      which hides their

      lack of love

      they want clouds

      casting no shadow over

      the poverty of memory … while

      their astonishment moves on

      the autumn garden isn’t enough

      for our impatience. I am exiled

      from my inner land since

      a lost love left me

      the hardened wood of a plumtree threatens

      a galaxy unknown to all, and the

      word borrows the reversible path

      of light to bring relief

      the tribes gather their bitterness on

      market day; the sun fissures the only

      fountain

      Omar Khayyam asked me

      to share his wine. I said yes. I shared

      his melancholy and tomorrow

      I will go see him in the earth that he

      has become

      with each being that is assassinated

      in our country of sulfur and copper

      a new will rises

      voyage, oh voyage!

      the final fire that ravages the air

      unveils the soil on which

      we walk aimlessly

      and tirelessly

      the hypocrisy of the strong protects us

      from home. I prefer leaves

      yellowed by the rain to false

      victories

      so I listen to the wind. It’s good to live

      where there’s dying, where the legends

      go out … our tombs will be as

      light as angels’ wings

      let’s not bother to fear those

      who insult our insubordination

      the conquered will always have the

      last word

      I live in an invisible that has neither

      bathroom nor entryway.

      the invisible has no owner.

      the dream never has walls,

      and it’s never cold there

      … and my shadows stretch

      over my body as it sleeps,

      and the sky stops being blue, and

      the light waits

      we don’t have famous actresses

      in our little grocery stores and our

      men exported by hunger hurry

      into the steel of winter

      I am not a phantom along

      the foreign river. neither leopard

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