Like a Small Cafe, That’s Love
Like a small cafe on the street of strange.—
that’s love… its doors open to all.
Like a cafe that expands and
commas with the w.then
if it pours with rain its customers increase,
if the weather’s fm, they are few and weary…
I am here, stranger, sitting in the comer.
(What color .e your eyes? What is your name?
How shall I call to you as you pass hy,
as I sit waiting for you?)
A small caa, that’s love.
I order two glass. of wine
and drink to my health and yours.
I am carrying two caps
and umbrella. It is raining now.
It is raining more than ever,
and you do not come hA
I say to myself at last: Perhaps she who I was waiting for
was waiting for me, or was waiting for some other ma,
or was waiting for us, and did not find him/me.
She would sap Here I am waiting for you.
(What color are your eyes? What is your name?
What kind of wine do you prefer? How shall I call to you when
you pass hyl)
A small that’s love…
—Mahmoud Darwish, Almond Blossoms and Beyond. Interlink Books, 2009 (transl. by Mohammad Shaheen)