Читать книгу Unfortunately, It Was Paradise - Mahmoud Darwish - Страница 14

Were It Up to Me to Begin Again

Were it up to me to begin again, I would make the same choice. Roses on the fence.

I would travel the same roads that might or might not lead to Cordoba.

I would lay my shadow down on two rocks, so that birds could nest on one of the boughs.

I would break open my shadow for the scent of almond to float in a cloud of dust

and grow tired on the slopes. Come closer, and listen.

Share my bread, drink my wine, don’t leave me alone like a tired willow.

I love lands not trod over by songs of migration, or become subject to passions of blood and desire.

I love women whose hidden desires make horses put an end to their lives at the threshold.

If I return, I will return to the same rose and follow the same steps.

But never to Cordoba.