Translations
Youth
by Saadi YoussefTranslated from Arabic by Khaled Mattawa
In ’57
we dug, with our black nails, trenches around Damascus.
The groves of Ghouta were as dense as the jungles of the Amazon.
From the top of Mount Hermon, water flowed white between fingers coated with dirt.
In ’57
we drank arak, a quarter carafe,
with a loaf of Arabic bread that cost a quarter lira.
In ’57
we fell in love,
wrote our first poems by candlelight.
It was a golden time, indeed.
It was 1957
and we, like Damascus,
were digging trenches in our souls.