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Poem No.: 117 النص العربي: لا يوجد

He remembers his prison cell with its air hole as if he loves it.

Forgetfulness cannot

Tremble in the cage of freedom: o, there

Where the Lamptonite horizons include herds of fog,

As if there were freedom there, distant, remote, desirable.

Life is proud of it.

The rulership wouldn't lengthen it, and there is no hand upon it thin like a blade, sharp like lightning, towering like the looming of the gods,

His hand in the freedom of creation

grants his dreams through language and shows mercy in selecting his camel saddles.


translated by

Bassam Frangieh

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