The Horse Fell off the Poem
The horse fell off the poem
and the Galilean women were wet
with butterflies and dew,
dancing above chrysanthemum
The two absent ones: you and I
you and I are the two absent ones
.
.
A pair of white doves
chatting on the branches of a holm oak
.
.
No love, but I love ancient
love poems that guard
the sick moon from smoke
.
.
I attack and retreat, like the violin in quatrains
I get far from my time when I am near
the topography of place
…
…
There is no margin in modern language left
to celebrate what we love,
because all that will be … was
.
.
The horse fell bloodied
with my poem
and I fell bloodied
with the horse’s blood …
.
.
by Mahmoud Darwish
from The Butterfly’s Burden
Copper Canyon Press,
translated by Fady Joudah