Disappointment

To her who will break her tryst tomorrow!

What does it matter, that you do not come?

Tomorrow... spring returns, and the lilies return to being, so I shall not be left without a companion.

Tomorrow... our garden will clamor with roses, and our sweet violets will spread their color, so my tomorrow will not be left without color.

And I shall wait — for spring must come; and when it comes, it will know that I waited for it alone, and it will not grieve, nor will sorrow touch its heart, for spring is a companion to whoever has no companion or friend!

And it will not ask about you,

For the jasmine will tell it that you abide within it. For you are some of the jasmine's perfume, some of its breath, some of its fragrance.

How should it ask about you?

When you still stir clamorously in its midst — a tender youth, a life in blossom.

All of us pass away — except you, and the dreams.

Those remain, in the lives of the wretched of life, to color and to perfume the gloomy mind; and you remain: the color in my life whose color has faded, and the tomorrow whose dawn will never break.

You will not come;

And from where should you come, and to where? You are, in my eyes, their light; in my heart, its tumult; in my life, its radiance.

In the procession of the dawn, they will ask about you who were never told that you outran the dawn in light, surpassed the dew in innocence, and the melody in music and song.

Then the butterflies will chant your name and sing it, as songs are sung and prayers are chanted.

In the procession of the dawn, the moon will be told: you shall never triumph again, for her sweet youth will remain a sweet youth — never drying, never withering, never carried off by the days.

You will not come, then?!

And I shall keep watching the road — perhaps a sweet phantom may one day color its sides.

Adel Hamed
The American University of Beirut