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