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The School of Love
Your love taught me how to grieve,
While I have been in need, for centuries,
For a woman to make me grieve,
And to cry upon her arms
Like a sparrow...
For a woman to gather my pieces
Like clusters of broken crystal..
Your love taught me, my lady, my worst habits.
It taught me how to foresee my coffee- cup
Thousands of times every night,
To experience the medicine of herbalists,
And knock on the doors of the fortune tellers.
It taught me to come out of my house,
In order to comb the sidewalks,
And chase your face in the raindrops,
In the lights of cars,
In the unknown apparels,
And even to run after your spectrum
In the posters of advertisements,
And gather millions of stars from your eyes.
Your love taught me
To wander around, for hours,
Searching for a gypsy hair
Envied by all the gypsies,
Searching for a face, for a voice,
Which are all the faces and all the voices...
Your love made me enter, my lady,
Into the cities of grief
while I have never entered
The cities of grief before.
I never know
That tears are a person,
and a person without grief
Is only a reminiscence of a person...
Your love taught me
How to behave like teenagers,
To draw your face with chalk
Upon the walls,
Upon the sails of fishermen's boats,
On the Church’s bells, on the crucifixes.
Your love taught me how love could
Change the map of time...
Your love taught me, that when I fall in love
The earth will stop revolving...
Your love taught me things
That were never occurred unto me..
Thus I read children's fairytales,
Entered the palaces of the Jennies kings,
And dreamt to be wedded with the Sultan's daughter...
Those eyes are more apparent
Than the water of a lagoon
Those lips more luscious
Than the flower of pomegranates.
And I dreamt that I kidnapped her like a knight
And dreamt I gave
Her the garlands of pearl and coral stones.
Your love taught me, my lady,
What hallucination might bring....
It taught me how life may surpass
Without the coming of the Sultan's daughter...
Your love taught me
How to love you in all the things,
In the naked trees, in the yellow dry leaves,
In a rainy day, in the tempest,
In a smallest café where we drink in the evening
Our black coffee..
Your love taught me...to seek refuge,
to seek refuge in hotels without names,
In churches without names...
In cafes without names...
Your love taught me how night
Could proliferate the Strangers’ grief .
It taught me how to behold Beirut
A woman, tyrant of temptation,
A woman, wearing every evening
the most beautiful clothing she possesses,
and sprinkling perfume upon her breasts,
For the fisherman, and the princes.
Your love taught me how to cry without account.
It taught me how grief slumbers
Like a boy with his feet cut off
In the streets of Rouche and Hamra.
Your love taught me how to grieve,
And I have been in need, for centuries,
For a woman to make me grieve,
For a woman, to cry upon her arms
Like a sparrow
For a woman to gather my pieces
Like clusters of broken crystal |
