Abdelwahab Meddeb
Tombeau of Ibn Arabi
XXXII
She has an arched back, she walks on shadows, which
dance, idle, she de-louses herself, recluse in the fog,
she watches a gaggle of migrating birds pass, on the
river's bank, on the side of the mountains, there is a
destroyed village, surrounded by grottos, rooms for
the dijinn, my body is a protruding stone, I visit fever,
on the day of rest, she has left, without my knowing,
I see a bed in the lake, in which her face is mirrored,
I sink into her image, in search of her people, scat-
tered to the winds, my body is cut, from the downstream
upstream, I let myself be guided, by the jujube tree
at the end, I met some idols, at the break in the
wormwood, where I embalm my diseases, the saints
walk on their wounds, pain is a hole, it blackens my
reflections, I suffocate, I find her again, in the reality,
of her embroidered lace, I open her blouse, I drink
from her navel, I enter her absence, I bear allegiance to
her, I sign her wrist, with a metal of nocturnal glim-
mers, it burns flowers, save the narcissus and the
tulip, she offers me a cowl, it has the emblem of the
scorpion, the rough wood electrifies my body, dense
in the night, crumbly like coal, her hair is a hive,
which hums around a captive queen, Arab and white,
she speaks frankly, with a Latin flavor, she hides her
body, and uncovers it, she lets down her hair, and
gathers it up, the things of the day take shape, in the
unfinished clay, with sculptor's hands, I touch the
black stone, the mark opens, like a window, the night
sparkles, the moon is a plate, which I break, and
bury, under the circle of fire.
_________________________
Abdelwahab Meddeb
Tombeau of Ibn Arabi
and
White Traverses
translated by Charlotte Mandell
Fordham University Press 2010
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