Enough for Me
Enough for me to die on her earth

be buried in her

to melt and vanish into her soil

then sprout forth as a flower

played with by a child from my country.

Enough for me to remain

in my country's embrace

to be in her close as a handful of dust

a sprig of grass

a flower.

The Deluge and the Tree
When the hurricane swirled and spread its deluge

of dark evil

onto the good green land

'they' gloated. The western skies

reverberated with joyous accounts:

"The Tree has fallen !

The great trunk is smashed! The hurricane leaves no life in the Tree!"

Had the Tree really fallen?

Never! Not with our red streams flowing forever,

not while the wine of our thorn limbs

fed the thirsty roots,

Arab roots alive

tunneling deep, deep, into the land!

When the Tree rises up, the branches

shall flourish green and fresh in the sun

the laughter of the Tree shall leaf

beneath the sun

and birds shall return

Undoubtedly, the birds shall return.

The birds shall return.