Translation by Doireann Ní Ghríofa

English version by Doireann Ní Ghríofa
based on a literal translation from the Arabic by Suneela Mubayi

‘H’

If, in thievery, Venus should steal those who were our destiny;
if Jupiter draws mischief on us furtively,
Should these odds come to pass, we will not permit their rude
attempts to split our paths;
No. Upon those fates we will bestow the rose of hope,
For who is to say that the shrines’ custodians may not, for our sake,
choose to betray the old ways,
While we soar to god, who will gift us not only a door and a key of
redemption,
but also give his forgiveness, should we wish our descent again from
heaven.
Perhaps this single fall will be permissible?

‘S’

You voyaged following Helios’s Psalms.
No scent of us remained on the stones
once your salt had scrubbed the paths.
I wept until the gashes of absence charred my heart.
Despite my overwhelming grief, I concealed the verses of Hafiz
in the crimson shades of stars.
Under September skies, I threw windows wide.
When you still didn’t arrive, I turned to the winds and cried,
Oh, and as I waited, I fell in love with love.
I willed snow’s cheek-scorch to heal my heart.
Now I make my home in the full moon, infected as it is by my
desire-pangs,
and my dreams rest in desert clefts.
The sand-bridges which lead to distant lands always carried me to
your warm heart
When we longed to unbutton evening’s blouse and clothe each other
in kisses from our red mouths,
Until you filched the hymns from their grip and chose to rest instead
in the ocean’s lyric depths, testing each metric constriction, flicking
through ripples.

Within the flight you flew away, within the crossing, you crossed,
astray,
until you turned your face away, and our love was destined to division
and disarray.

‘H’

Return for a night as the moon turns full,
and you and I will lie on our island in shadows of moon-gloom.
We’ll lean in southerlies,
Our desires so strong that even our fates will spin dizzy, allowing us
secret hours
To sip kiss over kiss.
Our mouths will mimic the embrace of clouds –
The closer our souls, the more rain rushes down
each droplet a kiss falling into a kiss.

‘S’

Might we bribe the fire-jinns to hide us in a poem, like metre or
rhythm? Might our myth,
if written in the book, be to their satisfaction? Might we allow
ourselves contentment
to sip kisses on kisses? Which wind might we bribe? Which breeze
will conceal us:
the easterly, or the westerly?

‘H’

Maybe the north wind or some secret chemistry created for us by God
Will permit us to plummet first into the darkness, as star after star falls
forth from the night sky,
that we might be their ashes and their secret of secrets
for falling in love is a probable death, yet how beautiful it would be if
that were to become our destiny.