Now,

With the sad rain

Drenching my sad face,

I dream of a ladder of dust,

Collected from hunched backs

And hands clinging onto knees,

To mount to highest heaven

And discover

What becomes of our prayers and sighs.

O my beloved,

All the prayers and sighs,

All the laments and cries for help,

Springing from

Millions of lips and hearts,

Through thousands of years and centuries,

Must be gathered somewhere in heaven,

Like clouds.

And maybe

These words of mine

Are now close to those of Jesus.

So let us await the tears of heaven,

O beloved.

_____________

translated by May Jayyusi and John Heath-Stubbs, from Modern Arabic Poetry: An Anthology, edited by Salma Khadra Jayyusi. - 1987 - Columbia University Press.