Sol 5.6

  1. Memories breathed forth the fragrance of gardens,

    captivating my thoughts and shaking my heart:

  2. a lifetime restored in a minute,

    and ages glimpsed through mere seconds.

  3. It was as though the past tarried in the soul,

    or hopes had recovered its echo.

  4. Beyond them we found nothing but forests

    of beasts, crimson with blood.

  5. No eye nodded off to sleep, nor

    did any heart of ours grow calm from throbbing.

  6. Whenever the breeze blows, we find

    its phantom a sigh from the homelands.

  7. It bears dew to the gardens and kindles

    within the breast a blast of fire.

  8. Ah, woe to the exile—what he suffers

    of separation’s torment, what he endures!

  9. In exile, the world’s shame was laid bare to me,

    and its blemishes appeared plainly to my eyes.

  10. Whenever I attained a pleasure, it warned me,

    and I looked about in fear of my fate.

  11. Whenever I sought a smile, there appeared the vision

    of my homeland, awakening me and holding me back.

  12. For the exile, earth holds nothing but tears,

    nor heaven anything but hopes.

  13. Crush me, O wind, then scatter

    the fragments of my spirit through those gardens’ air.

  14. Disperse me through every field upon the flowers,

    among the slender stems and spreading boughs.

  15. My sighs, roam the sky of my homeland

    and drink your fill of its overflowing radiance.

  16. Quench my anguish there, and immerse

    my spirit in it, and cool my melodies.

  17. Reach my neighbors, my family, and my loved

    ones, and tell them what befell me.

  18. Scatter my kisses upon their soil,

    and fill the breadth of their horizon with my heart.

  19. Ask them how the luxuriant garden fares,

    and its tall shade trees whose boughs draw near.

  20. Did its nightingale mourn me? Did its foliage

    weep for me? Was it grieved by what grieved me?

  21. If only the garden had a heart—perhaps Time

    would make it weep, as it made me weep.

  22. The lands pursued me, seeking to draw out the pure

    essence of my speech and of my sensibility,

  23. and hurled me about, that they might find relief in my sighs

    and in my sweet and lovely melodies.

  24. The lands desire nothing from me but the voice that moves

    them, though within it lies the ruin of my being.

  25. The aloeswood acquires me as something precious; yet no benefit

    is sought from it except its smoke.

  26. If I do not return to her, I shall nevertheless live forever

    in her hearing as the plaintive singer of songs.

  27. My homeland, you are a breath of God; may you never depart

    from either my heart or my tongue.

  28. God fashioned from you the clay of my heart,

    and from your fragrance shaped the spirit of my expression.

  29. Here—take what I have purified for you in my tears,

    and what I have melted in my heart:

  30. :

    the heart’s flame—were it broadcast, they would say,

    “A Yemeni blade has passed through the ether.”

Sol 5.6