As a part of its continuing effort to share a portion of the literary wealth of Arabic poetry with the English reader, The Arab American News translates excerpts of a poem by the legendary Syrian poet Nizar Qabbani.

Oh woman who was my lover in a past time,

I asked for the old hotel

and the booth where I bought my newspapers

and the lottery tickets that never win.

I didn’t find the hotel nor the booth,

and I learned that the newspapers

Stopped publishing after you left.

It was clear that the city had moved

and the sidewalks had moved

and the sun has changed its post office box

and the stars that we used to rent in the summer

were put up for sale

It was clear that the trees had changed their addresses

and the birds had taken their children

and the the classical records they keep.

And immigrated.

And the sea had thrown itself in the sea.. and died.

I was searching for an umbrella that would protect me from water…

And the names of the nightclubs where I danced with you..

but the traffic police officer mocked my stupidity,

and told me… The city I am searching for

was swallowed by the sea 

in the tenth century before Christ.

… Oh woman whose voice fell to the ground

and became a tree

and her shadow fell on my body

and became a waterfall,

Why did you abandon my chest

to become with no homeland?

Why did you leave the time of poetry?

And choose the time of narrowness…

Why did you break the green ink vial

I user to paint you with…

And become a woman

In white…

And black

— Translated from Arabic by Ali Harb