Between What Was, What Is, and What Awaits, Poet - Aziz Mountassir (Morocco)

Between What Was, What Is, and What Awaits

Poem original by Aziz Mountassir 

 English version by Neide Romani 

We walked through yesterday like wounded kings,

with crowns of dust upon our weary brows;

the past, a graveyard where remembrance sings

to broken vows beneath forgotten boughs.

Its hands were cold, yet tender in their ache,

a fading fire beneath December skies;

it taught the heart how silently to break,

and how a soul may drown through smiling eyes.

And now the present stands before our door,

half clothed in light and half consumed by shade;

we drink the hours like beggars wanting more,

while time carves ruins from the dreams we made.

This fleeting now — this candle in the storm —

still burns despite the thunder and the rain;

within its fragile flame our hopes are born,

though every joy must carry seeds of pain.

We laugh today, yet underneath our breath

there sleeps the ancient sorrow of mankind:

for every heartbeat marches close to death,

and every memory leaves its ghost behind.

But ah, the future — silent as the sea

before the wrath of tempests yet unknown —

what road awaits thy steps, awaits for me?

What fate lies hidden where no light hath shone?

Perhaps tomorrow holds a field of spring,

where love shall bloom like roses after snow;

or perhaps fate prepares a crueler wing,

to cast us where the lonely shadows grow.

Man is but dust conversing with the stars,

a trembling pilgrim chained to fleeting breath;

he builds his dreams while carrying his scars,

and dances softly on the edge of death.

So let us live before the heavens close,

before our names are scattered by the wind;

for time, like winter, kills the fairest rose,

and none may seize the hour once it has thinned.

The past is ash.

The present is a flame.

The future is a darkness without frame.

Yet still we walk —

with bleeding hearts untamed —

toward unknown worlds

that do not know our name.