In Proof that I Am Not Dead
A year will pass
In proof that I have not lived
A year has passed
On the steps of a sparrow in the shade
With no nest
But escape, with its feathers scattered
I tried, smiling
To bid the world farewell
All the evidence points not to the poor
Who crowded as corpses and died
Around the table of food
If Gaza had held my hand
To ascend to heaven together
The situation would be different before God
Oh God
How can he say anything
Who is afraid to speak
A white hair laughed in my face
It could not bear the darkness of the Arab situation
So it turned white in hope of your disappearance, O darkness
Do not leave my heart on the Arabian Peninsula alone
I am still waiting for the voice of my beloved
Who will come to wash me with her laughter
And gather me with her, Yemen and Sham
The departed raced to our tears
We are the rest
Who will leave us tomorrow
Who, I wonder
There is no doubt that things are not as they should be
I released my wings to the sea breeze
Then I stood
A woman’s hand holds me
We staggered together on the shore
Her stumbling reminded me of the flutter of a dove
Another year will pass
And we will sow hope every day on its pages
And if we start helpless
Perhaps
We will be better in the end
The night, a café of memories – Asma’a Al-Shaibani – trans. Hatem Al-Shamea
