The wandering is over,
and the road
is an adoring rock.
Here we are,
burying the corpse of the day,
draped in the winds of tragedy.
But tomorrow we shall shake
the trunks of the forest of palms.
And tomorrow we shall wash
the body of the slender god
with the blood of the thunderbolt,
and construct the tenuous lines
between our eyelids and the road.
Songs of Mihyar the Damamscene
Selected and translated