Now,
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With the sad rain
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Drenching my sad face,
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I dream of a ladder of dust,
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Collected from hunched backs
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And hands clinging onto knees,
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To mount to highest heaven
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And discover
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What becomes of our prayers and sighs.
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O my beloved,
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All the prayers and sighs,
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All the laments and cries for help,
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Springing from
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Millions of lips and hearts,
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Through thousands of years and centuries,
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Must be gathered somewhere in heaven,
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Like clouds.
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And maybe
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These words of mine
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Are now close to those of Jesus.
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So let us await the tears of heaven,
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O beloved.
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_____________
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translated by May Jayyusi and John Heath-Stubbs, from Modern Arabic Poetry: An Anthology, edited by Salma Khadra Jayyusi. - 1987 - Columbia University Press. |