Читать книгу Unfortunately, It Was Paradise - Mahmoud Darwish - Страница 13

Another Road in the Road

There is yet another road in the road, another chance for migration.

To cross over we will throw many roses in the river.

No widow wants to return to us, there we have to go, north of the neighing horses.

Have yet we forgotten something, both simple and worthy of our new ideas?

When you talk about yesterday, friend, I see my face reflected in the song of doves.

I touch the dove’s ring and hear flute-song in the abandoned fig tree.

My longing weeps for everything. My longing shoots back at me, to kill or be killed.

Yet there is another road in the road, and on and on. So where are the questions taking me?

I am from here, I am from there, yet am neither here nor there.

I will have to throw many roses before I reach a rose in Galilee.