The Three Cypress Trees

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Transparent and frail,

like the slumber of woodcutters,

serene, portending things to come,

the morning drizzle does not conceal

these three cypresses on the slope.

Their details belie their sameness,

their radiance confirms it.

I said:

I wouldn't dare to keep looking at them,

there is a beauty that takes away our daring,

there are times when courage fades away.

The clouds rolling high above

change the form of the cypresses.

The birds flying towards alternative skies

change the resonance of the cypresses.

The tiled line behind them

fixes the greenness of the cypresses

and there are trees whose only fruit is greenness.

Yesterday, in my sudden cheerfulness,

I saw their immortality.

Today, in my sudden sorrow,

I saw the axe.

(Translated by Mourid Barghouti and Radwa Ashour)

From The Pomegranate Flowers (2002)