A Window
Between the sunrise and me there’s a window.
So I greet my old friends the morning air
and the horizon’s pencilled line. Those clouds
are gossiping about a secret rendezvous.
I say hello to that dear memory.
Between my love and me there’s a window.
I gaze out into Spring through the eyes of
someone who loves flowers, whose dreams
are hindered by the little dreams of flowers –
dreams of loss, dreams of goodbye.
Between God and me there’s a window
and I have named it Galilee.
About this poem
The poem comes from an anthology of contemporary Palestinian poetry, A Bird Is Not a Stone, translated by Scottish poets with the aid of Arabic speakers.
