The Day I Knew I Was a Woman!

It was in early April,

after the last rain-cloud of winter's clouds,

one day when a morning dawned...

Yes... I remember something...

Something that engulfed me, overflowing with tenderness... with love... nay, with faith... and I fell in love with it...

As if it were a bewildered butterfly hovering about my body... that soon came to rest upon my lips...

Or a lonely thread of light, haunted by longing, that came at journey's end to settle in my eyes...

Or the petals of a red rose scattering in rhythm over my body, as snow scatters over the hills...

And the almond orchard, the holy of holies, was surging with light...

with fragrance... and with melodies...

And I saw the sunbeam rise glittering with the wings of the bees about the buds.

Yes, it was singing to them, and their sheaths would quiver, then soon stretch and rouse themselves, weary of the long winter's sleep,

and the light, with its accustomed coquetry, would recline in their embrace...

And my soul longed to be that flower —

a thousand wings hovering about me, a thousand lights lying in my arms...

And I broke a blossoming branch of almond... and stripped it of its beauties... and flung it beneath my feet... a wretched end for it.

And I took up an armful of roses and tickled my cheek with it... and my lips... and my breast... then plucked its petals and scattered them on the air.

A curse on them, these bewitching beauties... harlots who shower no tenderness on us... who neither fill our loneliness nor pity our pains...

Forever in their ivory tower.

And my ears filled with the whirring of wings... the ringing of bells... colors and shapes crowded into my eyes...

And a burning longing and a yearning for the unknown divided my heart between them...

And I was dazed... and I was lost.

And I heard the hillside singing, as if it were answering Beethoven in his passions — its melodies in the depths of the valley echoing back his own from his depths.

And cool breezes drifted by, heavy with the scent of za'tar...

And my spirit grew calm... and I went about cutting flowers, armful upon armful, into my embrace.

And in the evening I stood before the sunset, which appeared mighty as a Raphael.

I was hugging my armfuls.

And behold, my beloved came into view upon the hill.

How fine he was — sweet, brimming youth!

So I scattered my loveliest flowers at his feet...

Then he followed me, a light, love-dazed shadow,

gazing into my eyes and never quenched...

So I threw him my whole armful of flowers... and I ran off...

And he ran after me...

And I saw in his eyes resolve, and in his heart hope...

That was in early April, as I recall...

The day I knew I was a woman...

Yaacoub Hourani

Come, Let Us Settle Accounts

On the occasion of his approaching return to his mother country, Mr. Salim Mufawwaj, one of our readers in Argentina, sent us these tender verses, which we publish for him with our heartfelt wishes to see him among us in Lebanon with the coming of August...

What did you take and what did you give, America?

Give me the tale, with the tears of a wasting heart.

Was ever a youth more wretched, more worn than I?

What shall I say tomorrow when I meet them,

Where is the gold, Salim — where did you leave it?

Where is tender youth — where is it buried?

I squandered my years pursuing a great prize;

This is the book of a lifetime, its chapters folding shut.

In August, O Lebanon, was our farewell;

My grief — when the companions return to the home ground

In a quarter of a century, if you but knew my state,

And you robbed me of my freshness and my youth,

I would never have accepted parting from my loved ones,

In my village, watching for my homecoming,

Do you visit your people clutching a handful of dust?

So I answered, regrets brimming within me:

Do not ask me where my youth was lost...

And I in my turn have folded my book shut.

Will our meeting, I wonder, be in August?

That you should not see me among the companions.

Salim Mufawwaj

Argentina

Salim Mufawwaj