It’s not necessary
ALAA HASANIN – Translated by: Ibrahim Al-Sharif
It’s not necessary
to witness a war,
to follow with youreyes
iron planes
and wave to them
as if they’re made of paper,
to lift the rubble from your body
every morning
as if lifting the blankets,
to bury your little kitten
smiling
saying: tomorrow it will grow
tomorrow it will become an Acacia tree,
it’s not necessary
to make for your mother
a house of sand
to hide her from life
and from that light sadness
that covers faces
in airports,
to hand her the coveted silver cups
while telling her: this isn’t a death
it’s a long trip,
it’s not necessary
to borrow, without shame,
the arms of trees
and say: I too
am a tree
I have two wooden arms
and a protruding heart
my eyes are abandoned nests
and my dry looks
are birds dying
with open peaks,
it’s not necessary
to have a war
to be miserable
or death
to have a tortured heat
and a vagabond life,
sometimes
it only takes
nothing more than a sign
nothing more than a sigh
and a long stand
after you suddenly realise
that the sky rains
because some distant clouds,
in pain from the long walk,
have decided to rest on earth,
the sky doesn’t rain
because someone there
up above
has pitied your drought.