Tuesday, July 22, 2014


Kay Hassan

‘ I did hit the city  in  1977’

When you set  sail  for Alexandria,
Don’t  treat  the  season lightly,        (Like Bonaparte-   Not part of the poem.)
 There is no star -above  the city.     ( In  khamaseen. Not part of the poem)
Don’t be any   rapacious augur,
You are none of those three Magi,     (Laden with gold, frankincense, and myrrh at Bethlehem's night .Not part of the poem. )
 And not  speaking  Alexandria's Dialect,
To  sit with Cavafy  in the city’s  cafés,
  Or  give a tribute speech  to  Hypatia ,
 the  lady of  Socrates’ Trades.  
And  dine with  the  Neo-Platonists ,
Or measure  under Ptolemy,
The shores of Mediterranean sea
And classify the ancient papyrus  in the Royal  Library!
Or  glimpse even a  flicker  from  the ancient Lighthouse,
Slow down, passer-by ...you are tired,
Slow down and learn;
None of those wretched passengers  shall come to the city,
Thou arst,  but a  wicked passer-by,
‘My  Sibling -’
Don't fix the myths  of Alexandria ,
The Macedonian boy   was a stray Achilles,
Dug for himself a thousand graves.
You are not the best grave digger,
‘You  are from nowhere.’
‘Et -Ego- bin -  nicht - terrestrial.’
Hit  the  city where hungry breeds,
Digging up dustbins for Pharaoh's  leftover-  ‘I MEAN TOURISTS’ LEFTOVER‘ IT IS NOT PART OF THE POEM.
  And listen to  the eloquent  waiters ,
Holding  blurry glasses  for  the cheapest  bitter ,
Cackling - politics, like sluts in hurry.


Twitter Delicious Facebook Digg Stumbleupon Favorites More