Sunday, August 11, 2013

Cemetery Visit

Mother, if you stand by my grave
Holding flowers for me,
Don’t shed your tears
So that the roses do not droop
And you wet my grave
and my spirit feels the chill...
On your fingers
That wove
The braids of my childhood
Chant God’s praise for me,
And pray with your lips
That I sleep in peace.
I dream of meeting you, Mother
Throw myself on your chest
In the gardens of eternity.

Loay Hussein Taha
Translated from Arabic by Lina R. Hamadeh

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