The Snow of Mounts
I sit in the very same place
my heart ablaze with yearning
my eyes captivated by the long hallway.
In the very same place
I memorize the faces of passers-by
then let them slip away
like sand through my fingers.
Suddenly his face is thrust among them
and my thoughts stutter.
Do I have to keep him in the cell
or must I open the door for him
When I say: I will be careful
my body temperature rises
and the air in the room chills.
As for him, he disappears
I think I will be unable
to forget him
yet I go into the alleys like a light feather
with my heart radiant as the snow
of the mounts.
Not Even the Light from the Window
In my hand, there is a fistful of our garden’s flowers,
Jasmine and Narcissus bloom
in the night dew.
Near the bed, there is another bouquet
I put there days ago
no inquisitive soul pays it any attention,
not even the light from the window
that claims to have affection for me.
Translated by Issa J. Boullata