I see what I want in the farm … right now I see
braids of wheat combed by the wind, and I close my eyes
This mirage leads to Nihawand,
and this calm leads to lapis lazuli
I see what I want in the sea … right now I see
a rush of swans at sunset, and I close my eyes
This wandering leads to an Andalusia,
and this sail is a dove’s prayer over me
I see what I want in the night … right now I see
the endings of this long life at one of the cities’ gates
I will toss the pages of my log into the cafes at the dock and find a seat
for my absence aboard one of the ships
I see what I want in the soul: the face of a stone
scratched by lightning- green, oh land, green is the land of my soul-
haven’t I been a child playing at the edge of a well?
I’m still playing … this space is my playground and the stone is my wind
I see what I want in peace … right now I see
a deer and grass and a stream of water … and I close my eyes:
this deer is asleep on my arm
and the hunter asleep, too, near its sons, in a faraway place
I see what I want in war … right now I see
the arms of our ancestors squeezing a wellspring into green stone
And our fathers inherited the water, but did not bequeath it, and I close
my eyes:
The land in my hands is the work of my hands
I see what I want in prison: days of a flowering
that led from here to two strangers in me
seated in a garden- I close my eyes:
How spacious is the earth! How beautiful the earth from the eye
of a needle
I see what I want in lightning … right now I see
farms bursting from their chains with vegetation- bravo!
The song of the walnut floats down, white above the villages’ smoke
like doves … doves we feed alongside our children
I see what I want in love … right now I see
horses making the plain dance, fifty guitars sighing
and a swarm of bees sucking wild mulberry, and I close my eyes
to see our shadow behind this homeless place
I see what I want in death: I fall in love, and my chest opens
and a white unicorn jumps out and gallops over the clouds
soaring on endless gauze, swirling with eternal blue
So please do not stop my death, do not return me to a star of soil
I see what I want in blood: right now I see the murdered,
his heart lit by the bullet, say to his murderer: from now on
you remember
no one but me. I killed you without meaning to but from now on
you remember no one but me, nor can you endure spring flowers
I see what I want in the theatre of the absurd: fiends in judges’ robes,
the emperor’s hat, the masks of our time, the colour of old sky,
women who dance for the palace, the chaos of armies
Then I choose to forget everything, remember only the noise behind
the curtain
I see what I want in poetry: when poets died, we attended their funerals,
buried them with flowers, returned safely to their poetry …
now in the age of magazines, movies, and droning, we laugh—sprinkle
a handful of soil on their poems, come home to find them at our door
I see at dawn what I want in the dawn … right now I see
nations looking for bread in other nations’ bread
Bread is what unravels us from the silk of drowsiness, from the cotton
of our dreams
Is it from a grain of wheat that the dawn of life shines … and the
dawn of war?
I see what I want in people: their desire
for yearning, their reluctance to go to work,
their urgency to come home …
and their need for greetings in the morning
Translated by Saadi Simawe and Ellen Doré Watson from the Arabic
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