melting & burning


Between Rita and my eyes there is a rifle – Mahmoud Darwish
January 4, 2014, 9:06 am
Filed under: poem | Tags: , ,

Between Rita and my eyes there is a rifle
And whoever knows Rita kneels
and prays
To the divinity in those honey-colored eyes

Between Rita and my eyes there is a rifle
And whoever knows Rita kneels
and prays
To the divinity in those honey-colored eyes

And I kissed Rita
When she was young
And I remember how she approached
And how my arm covered the loveliest of braids
And I remember Rita
The way a sparrow remembers its stream
Ah, Rita

Between us there are a million sparrows and images
And many a rendezvous
Fired at by a rifle

Rita’s was a feast in my mouth
Rita’s was a wedding in my blood

And I was lost in Rita for two years
And for two years she slept on my arm
And we made promises
Over the most beautiful of cups
And we burned in the wine of our lips
And we were born again
Ah, Rita!

What before this rifle could have turned my eyes from yours
Except a nap or two or honey-colored clouds?
Once upon a time
Oh, the silence of dusk
In the morning my moon migrated to a far place
Towards those honey-colored eyes
And the city swept away all the singers
And Rita
Between Rita and my eyes — A rifle

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