The palm at the end of the mind, beyond the last thought, rises in the bronze distance. A gold feathered bird sings in the palm, without human meaning, without human feeling, a foreign song. You know then that it is not the reason that makes us happy or unhappy.
The bird sings. Its feathers shine. The palm stands on the edge of space. The wind moves slowly in the branches. The bird's fire-fangled feathers dangle down.

Saturday, October 8, 2022

My Defeated Banner

If I could come back,I wouldn't come under any other banner.I'd still embrace youwith two severed hands.I don't want wings in paradise,I just want your graves by the river.I want eternity at the breakfast tablewith the bread and oil.I want you—earth,my defeated banner.

--Najwan DarwishTranslated from Arabic by Kareem James Abu-Zeid

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