as you try to stand on your toes your head barely touches my chin I could lend you my commas to use as stilts or just lift you up. Bending low might be easier . But I prefer to wait till you get tired and fall intomyarms
a little girl twirls clockwise and the pink-crystal-studded-knee-
length-skirt wraps around her in an embrace. Suddenly she stops and turns in front of the mirror, tiny dancing stars stand still and fill the room shining bright. Her hair bounces with glee . fifteen years have passed and the walls still glow from the refracted light of the shattered glass window the living room is filled with half opened books and scattered flowers. A couch next to the piano partly covered by a quilt sighs as she lays down . in the yellow house on the hillside hidden among wild camellias the not so little girl with winter on her toes reaches out with her eyes closed . As her fingers trace the familiar ivory a melody erupts and she is taken back to her childhood; the first wet rings on the mahogany the first drifts of blue smoke
Light is more important than the lantern, The poem more important than the notebook, And the kiss more important than the lips. My letters to you Are greater and more important than both of us. The are the only documents Where people will discover Your beauty And my madness.
By Nizar Qabbani Translated by B. Frangieh And C. Brown