Mahmoud Darwish

As for Spring


As for spring, whatever drunken poets write when
they succeed to catch fleeting time with a hook
of words...they sober up, unharmed.

A little cold in the coal of the pomegranate
eases the sting of fire in the metaphor.  (If I were nearer
to me than you, I would kiss myself.)

A little color in the almond blossom
protects the heavens from the heathen's
last arguments.  (However we differ, we
realize happiness is possible, as in an earthquake.)

A little dancing among the plants at a licentious
wedding feast stimulates our blood.
(The seed does not know death,
no matter how far we go.)

Eternity is shy of no one
when she grants her body to all
here...in the fleeting spring.


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