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P
o
e
m
s

No it isn’t. But love

took one of my eyes for itself, love

had vision before birth, did

discuss with me the accuracy

of what transpires in lenses.

 

And then it went blind—slowly

soaked us up from behind a veil,

and we couldn’t see it.

 

A deaf air said to me

that borders believe

space is smaller than the world

since children draw Earth

smaller than their houses

and draw eyes bigger than their faces.

 

Here love failed to find its eyes,

borrowed my lips

for better form.

 

Love, why don’t you stay as you are,

without official title,

subsistent on whoever desires you

for five minutes

before your suicide?

 

How cruel

you announce your sex

with paradise.

 

 

Translated from the Arabic by Fady Joudah