Your colour is the colour of water, O, body of words, when water is leaven or a thunderbolt or fire- And water blazed, became a thunderbolt, became leaven and fire and water lilies which ask about my pillow and fall asleep. O, river of words, journey with me for a couple of days, a couple of weeks, in the leaven of mysteries to pick up the seas or explore the oysters. Let us rain rubies and ebony to learn that magic is a black fairy who loves nobody except the sea. Journey with me, emerging here and vanishing there. And ask with me, O, river of words, about the shells which die to become a red cloud cascading its rain; about an island which walks or flies. And ask with me, O, river of words, about a star captive in the water nets, carrying under its breasts my last days. And ask with me, O, river of words, about a stone from which water flows, about a wave from which rocks are born, about the animal of musk, and a dove of light. And descend with me to the nets of darkness at the bottom where broken Time lies. And let words be a poem that wears the face of the sea. ___________________ Songs of Mihyar the Damamscene Selected and translated by Kamal Abu-Deeb