Amina Said was born in Tunisia. She lives in Paris, where she works as a journalist and translator. She has published eight volumes of poems, the latest of which is Gisements de Lumiere (La Difference). Since 1996 she has been engaged in translating the work of the Philippino novelist Franciso Sionil Jose.

* I was born on the shores of the sea of the setting sun the deep green sea the sea of the Philistines that washed on Carthage the white interior sea of the Arabs whose horses swept along its banks I grew up     algae     wave     fish star with multiple branches the first letter of the alphabet etched on my brow at seven I swam on black waters along moon traced pathlight up to the country of limits I took lessons on mirages intemporal scribe dedicated to handwriting the centuries with ink from the indigo sea at nine in wonder I discovered a sunken city surfacing I laid out my wings to dry on the dunes I counted the stones before gathering them I had two faces I lived in two worlds at eleven I no longer spoke to anyone yet a language was taking shape in my mouth I was looking in silence for the secret of poetry I was trying to define myself within the orders of clarity under its white veil behind made-up eyelids my city kept its mysteries did not console itself for its lost beauty the sea gate on longer open on the wide neglecting our most beautiful legends we lived our days and our nights seated around a marble fountain gone dry at sixteen I had the solemn smile of one who dreams of breaking away I had two faces I lived in two worlds marvellously immobile blind sphinxes peopled my sand gardens firebirds flew across the sky fissures of silence in the slow day's working with death as an horizon the sea held us back its medusa thighs undulating under our fingers we lived our days and nights seated around a marble fountain gone dry the sea gate no longer opened on the wide blind sphinxes peopled my sand gardens when a palm tree was planted which soon caressed the clouds I remained at its foot my eyes towards the sky my grandmother reappeared it is a sign she said you will leave us she gave the usual commendations poured on green water after my footsteps have you come back she said already I was at the other shore at forty always inhabited by shadows between past and future I issue from my childhood and thus from nowhere else I remember a night which was young lived to the rhythm of the sea there was much between the world and myself so much space and yet so little enchantment complicity this was before the protracted agony of the planet before the rent in the mask I had two faces I lived in two worlds facing the embrace of the blue horizon I dreamt of undulations in the desert I issue from my childhood and thus from nowhere else which truth therefore remains to be discovered other than each day's sun other than the ebb of sand from my winged hand the immense voice of the world in the single weft of an indulgent language which was given to me I who keep coming who keep leaving each threshold crossed I advance toward my demise toward the first day solitude thus scoops itself out as one explores the bottom of an empty well - for darkness only for darkness faced with oneself - seeking the place where the reflection of light is found praise for the one syllable sun the archipelago of silence where I find my words the voyage from threshold to threshold which is the real trip praise to him who goes astray he whose words are singular praise for the world because everything exists everywhere then in the poem and in it too still between past and future I wanted to discover who she had to be now I am seeking who she was I issue from my childhood and thus from nowhere else midnight light      alphabet of nothingness sea of the setting sun     white sea west of your dreams     vast inner sea (translated from the French by Frank Kazich and the poet)