Wafa Nouari

My Only Weapon

Cannons, tanks, rifles…
Or arms of the sort
I never obtain
I have only a tube of thin ink
In case I’m accused
He is the court
That weakness sustains
My inner self is too frail
To search for potential


When put on the shelf
It is nothing
When imprisoned in mouths
If it is as it is
Gold bullion!
In case the case is darkness
It is here beaming in the darkness
White as dove’s wings
Green as an olive tree’s leaves
When hearts are frosted
It is a blazing torch

Dates of Dagla

The fame of this fruit travels wide
Impatiently, I wait
For its season, even the scent
A breeze from heaven is dispatched
The dust embraces my little palms
To mother them with tenderness
And I do it to be mothered in return

The Race

I won’t count my paces
Until I arrive next to you
Our roads are complicated
One left, the other right
Your impatience precludes waiting
If you wait, it costs
If I hurry, it will harm my foot
Time should answer us
Love, menace
I know not if you hate me
What can love’s judgment be?
For humanistic reasons and my merciful heart
It is not execution for sure
But to heaven it will for sure
Life is stations—I wait my turn


My religion is love
My job is
Knocking at the door
Of the white dove that’s fled
My nationality is
Citizen of the world
My hobby is
Stay faithful forever