Why Did You Leave the Horse Alone? by Mahmoud Darwish Read Free Book Online Page A

him:
    The Trojan War did not happen
    It never happened
    Never…
    What rain
    What rain!

A Night Which Flows from the Body
    Jasmine on a July night, song
    Of two strangers who meet on a street
    Which leads to no purpose…
    Who am I after two almond eyes? The stranger says
    Who am I after your banishment in me? The strange woman says.
    So good let us be careful so as not to
    Move the salt of the ancient seas in a remembering body…
    She used to return to him a hot body,
    And he used to return to her a hot body.
    This is how strange lovers leave their love
    Chaotically, as they leave their underclothes
    Among the flowers of the sheets…
    – If you really love me, make
    A Song of Songs for me, and carve my name
    On the trunk of a pomegranate tree in the gardens of Babylon…
    –If you really love me put
    My dream into my hand. And say to him, to Maryam’s son,
    How did you do to us what you did to yourself,
    O Lord, have we any justice that would suffice
    To make us just tomorrow?
    How can I be cured of the jasmine tomorrow?
    How can I be cured of the jasmine tomorrow?
    They sit sulky together in a shadow which spreads on
    The ceiling of his room: Don’t look distracted
    After my breasts – she said to him…
    He said: your breasts are night that illuminate the necessary
    Your breasts are a night which kisses me, and we are filled

    And the place with a night which overflows the glass…
    She laughs at his description. Then she laughs more
    As she hides nightfall in her hand…
    – My love, if it had been my lot
    That I were a young man… it is you I would have been
    – And had it been my lot that I were a girl
    It is you I would have been!…
    And she weeps, as is her way, when she returns
    From a wine-coloured heaven: Take me
    To a land where I have no blue bird
    Over a willow tree, O stranger!
    And she weeps, to cut through her forests in the long journey
    To herself: Who am I?
    Who am I after your banishment from my body?
    Alas for me, and for you, and for my land
    – Who am I after two almond eyes?
    Show me my tomorrow!…
    That is how lovers leave their farewell
    Chaotically, like the scent of jasmine on the July night…
    Every July the jasmine carries me to
    A street, which leads to no purpose
    While I continue my song:
    Jasmine
    On
    A night
    In July…

For the Gypsy, an Experienced Sky
    You are leaving the air sick on the mulberry tree,
    But I
    Shall walk to the sea, how do I breathe
    Why did you do what you did… why
    Were you weary of living, O gypsy,
    In the Iris quarter?
    *
    We have the gold you want and frivolous blood
    In the races. Knock the heel of your shoe
    Against the icon of being and birds come down to you. There
    Are angels… and an experienced sky, so do what
    You want! Break hearts as a nutcracker
    And out comes the blood of steeds!
    *
    Your poetry has no homeland. The wind has no house. I have no
    Ceiling in the chandelier of your heart.
    From a smiling lilac around your night
    I find my way alone through alleys as thin as hair.
    As if you were self-made, O gypsy,
    What did you do with our clay since that year?
    *
    You put on the place as you put on trousers of fire
    Hastily. The earth has no role under your hand
    Except to attend to travel’s gear: anklets
    For water, a guitar for the air, and a reedpipe
    So that India may become more distant, O gypsy, do not leave us as
    The army leaves behind its distressing remains!
    *
    When, in the realms of the swallow, you descend on us
    We open our doors to eternity, humbly. Your tents
    Are a guitar for tramps. We rise and dance until the bloody
    Sunset vanishes on your feet. Your tents
    Are a guitar for the steeds of long ago raiders which return to the attack
    To make the legends of the places
    *
    Whenever she moved a string her demon touched us. And we were transported
    To another time. We broke our jugs, one
    By one to keep time with her rhythm. We were neither good
    Nor bad, as in fiction. She would
    Move our destinies with her ten