At the Foot of the Mountain, on the Sea, Higher Than the Cypress Tree, They Slept

Mahmoud Darwish

At the foot of the mountain, on the sea, higher than the Cypress tree, they slept

for the iron sky emptied them from memories. And the doves flew

To a direction, their fingers pointed to, east of their remains

Was it not their right to sprinkle the basil of their names on the water’s moon

And to plant oranges in the trenches to reduce the darkness

They sleep beyond the narrow space above the foot of the mountain the words solidify within it

They sleep on stones instrument of their majestic Anqa

And we have enough heart we are able to arrive soon to the celebration of their things

And we have enough heart we are able to retrieve the space to return these doves

To the first land. Those amongst us who sleep on the last land, greetings

to you… greetings.

Fewer Roses 

1985