Najwan Darwish
Two poems translated from Arabic by Kareem James Abu-Zeid
Not this Cup
I
This tower that refuses to go down
though all the bulldozers in the world
strike at its foundation;
this icon on the wall that stays pure
despite the slinging of the mud,
despite the lowliness that clings
to its lowly brother;
this love that refuses to end
though every lover is gone.
Lord, I’ll swallow it, any cup you want—
but please,
not my country’s cup.
II
Lord, all things are growing old
and only misery
restores its youth.
Lord, all things are dying
but tragedy.
It keeps being reborn, a virgin,
from the foam of this lost sea.
Lord, all things are crumbling
except this grief: with two murdered fists
it shatters my door.
Words for Wadi al-Salib*
You couldn’t believe I had grown
and I couldn’t believe
you were abandoned.
Who would believe their own hands and face
had become ruins
to be bought and sold?
Valley of the shadow of death
and of life’s shadow, too,
our shadows are breaking and gathering
on the balconies of your homes,
and we’ll keep at it: coming together
and saying farewell
like two waves lost in our great sea.
*Translator’s note: This is a neighborhood in Haifa whose name literally translates to “the Valley of the Cross.”