If you were not the rain, my love, then be the tree
Saturated and bountiful, be the tree.
And if you were not the tree, my love, then be the stone
Saturated and moist, be the stone.
And if you were not the stone, my love, then be the moon
In the dream of the loved one, be the moon.
This is what a woman said to her son at his funeral.
~~Excerpt from Under Siege by Mahmoud Darwish~~
Translated from the Arabic by Taline Voskeritchian and Christopher Millis
(Thanks, S., for the archive!)