Hiding Behind…

Hiding Behind Dostoyevsky's Back

Trembling,

I approach the zenith of the New Middle Ages,

hiding behind Dostoyevsky’s back.

Hypnotized by his voice digging up the root of madness,

I behold the tribes of our planet

putting off the peels of civilization;

I try to ward off the rays of the black sun,

before they devour my face;

I page, for the last time, through the constitution of reason

then I deem it a beloved lie,

weeping and mumbling with a question: 

Must I learn the art of living underground,

like a cockroach peeping slyly at the possessed crowd?

'Look' the voice whispers shrewdly, 'at those princely faces,

drenched by cannibal kindness

intoxicated with illusive victories!'

I stare at them half-asleep—

Clearly as in a lucid dream,

I see my face in a million versions.

By Fadi Abu-Deeb

From: Syria

Website: https://www.comingeon.com

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