A mystical departure...

The following are translations of poems from Sama Essa’s elegiac collection: A Love Song for Laila Fakhru (Beirut 2012): (16) The twittering sparrows Are but a mystical departure The tree discards its crop on the earth Water yearns for death On its descending course to abyss. (17) Are you opening the door? I see you not As if the fruit of love falls from the sky And with it falls your beauty To be buried in the earth. (18) When you come into the light With your angel-like smile And young widow-like cry My soul takes me to you

For I see your tear Carving a path to love Carving a path to death. But I won’t see you again I won’t see your pale sad face The face that tells the news of Your death My death. (19) That desert tree was but your bones She drank your blood And the birds carried it to distant Realms. (20) The sky is a blue mother Yearning for her tender babes, Pebbles strewn in deserted valleys

Where whirling dervishes packed their bags And travelled. (21) I shall carry a big pain in my heart But hush up To be but sweet water to you. O lovely tree You draw your branches close Like a mother cuddling her babes. I’ll carry a big pain in my heart But hush up. (22) Even night turns savage

Its strange mystical creatures vanish In a bloody pool Like yellow dry olive trees… Graves Turn to travelers The wind fleetingly blows. Perhaps on hills There rises a bitter childhood Like an absence driven by the fire To the heart. (23)

A mourning boat carries lovers A silent man consorts with seagulls

Wandering small clouds light ancient planets Just as the glory of God Brightens the distant dark. But … Who are these travellers to the countless stars? The moon has left her old lovers But your beauty still glitters Like a flower blooming In an eternal autumn. (24) Open the door This dawn The forest-baby Left you a love song A rose and a bottle of milk And then departed. (25) When love awakes you again You’ll be resurrected,

Like a flower Wet with tears. Only the autumn’s migrating bird And the distant southern wind Know the way to you. In your heart’s oyster Dwells the souls of your dead dears. (26) Shepherds with camels Autumn’s rain The distant cry of a woman in a cave Bones of martyrs Their eyes open as if adored by lightning As if shrouded in ashes Their guns thrown on stones Tainted by blood Their bodies, calm tranquil Small memories on grass These, Laila, are the last love letters for you.

THE TREE DISCARDS ITS CROP ON THE EARTH AND WATER YEARNS FOR DEATH