Nizar Qabbani

My darling, I have much to say Where o precious one shall I begin ? All that is in you is princely

Green Tunisia, I have come to you as a lover On my brow, a rose and a book For I am the Damascene whose profession is passion

My son places his paint box in front of me and asks me to draw a bird for him. Into the color gray I dip the brush

(A Letter to a Man) (1) My dear Master,

Barada, oh father of all rivers Oh, horse that races the days Be, in our sad history, a prophet

When the moon is born in the east, And the white rooftops drift asleep Under the heaped-up light,

And of me say the fools: I entered the lodges of women And never left.

1 My voice rings out, this time, from Damascus It rings out from the house of my mother and father

Do not say my love was A ring or a bracelet. My love is a siege,

Every time I kiss you After a long separation I feel

Good morning sweetheart. Good morning my Saint of a sweetheart. It has been two year mother

We are accused of terrorism: if we defended rose and woman and the mighty verse...

I conquer the world with words, conquer the mother tongue, verbs, nouns, syntax.

"I have no power to change you or explain your ways Never believe a man can change a woman

In the summer I stretch out on the shore And think of you

I wept until my tears were dry I prayed until the candles flickered I knelt until the floor creaked

When a man is in love how can he use old words? Should a woman

If you are my friend... Help me... to leave you Or if you are my lover...

Light is more important than the lantern, The poem more important than the notebook, And the kiss more important than the lips.

I do not resemble your other lovers, my lady should another give you a cloud I give you rain

In the blue harbor of your eyes Blow rains of melodious lights, Dizzy suns and sails

Do not ask me, the name of my love I fear for you, from the fragrance of perfume contained in a bottle, if you smashed it,

My lover asks me: "What is the difference between me and the sky?" The difference, my love,

Oh, my love If you were at the level of my madness, You would cast away your jewelry,

Love happened at last, And we entered God's paradise, Sliding

If I were promised safety, if I could meet the Sultan I would say to him:    O my lord the Sultan!

Your love taught me to grieve and I have been in need, for centuries a woman to make me grieve

The face of Qana Pale, like that of Jesus and the sea breeze of April...

She sat with fear in her eyes Contemplating the upturned cup She said "Do not be sad, my son

The last walls of shame fell, And we rejoiced... And we danced...

The East receives my songs, some praise, some curse To each of them my gratitude I bear For I've avenged the blood of each slain woman

O pupils of Gaza... Teach us... A little of what you have

1 Friends The old word is dead.

We are accused of terrorism If we dare to write about the remains of a homeland That is scattered in pieces and in decay

When I love I feel that I am the king of time I possess the earth and everything on it

When I love you A new language springs up, New cities, new countries discovered.

He lets me listen, when he moves me, Words are not like other words He takes me, from under my arms

raise me more love... raise me my prettiest fits of madness O' dagger's journey... in my flesh