Strollers with Light-weight Clothes
The poem has uttered its word and gone.
No celebration, no birth ritual beyond that.
No reed flute guide us to
A love salat,
No clouds exchange a eulogy with me,
Yet no trees summon me
By my graceful names,
Or lay for me my long shadow,
Here I am
Praying for a window—
Its root is my heart,
Its branch my longing.
(Translated by Saleh Razzouk and Scott Minar)
*Palestinian poet lives in Gaza