Poetry by Souad Zakarani

Oh, Autumn

The sun then shines more
Sparsely,
Not like before and desirable.
Oh autumn, how boldly
Do you strip the trees of their leaves?
The forest lies bare with
Skeletons of branches.
Man replaces sunshine with
Stars
Colours joy would be what
I need.
However, it remains in November
Dark until eight
And there will be more
wet and cold.
Desolate, desolate and bland
Dull and depressing
Before half past four at night.

Delicate

But I love November
When the last colours
Of foliage and bushes
Glow in the light of mild
Rays of sunshine,
When silence settles on the gentle brown
That lowers ploughed fields,
When delicate blue shines
Through clouds
If on All Saints, there are
Consoling lights
Shimmer on graves
And when the relaxed soul
Doesn’t expect anything
Exciting
Then, long evenings with
Quiet music and wine
Then, you rest within yourself.

Deception

You’re really annoying me
autumn!
All the withered leaves along
the path,
and summer child lies left me
Starving on it for a long time.
Anyone who loves abundance
Will not fall for you.
You can hardly ever deceive
him with your deception.
Because after you winter will
Come anyway
With desolation and ice-clinking
noises.
luckily
There should, therefore,
be no lack of sun here.
And flowers that delight the heart
Even in November, today is Souls Day.