Wedding Song by Mahmoud Darwish

Wedding Song

And I moved into you, as astronomers move

from one planet to another. My soul looks upon

my body through your ten fingers.

Take me to you, dash off with the dove

to the remoteness of cooing on your two sides: expanse

and echo. And let the horses run after me

in vain. Because I do not, yet, see my image

in its water . . . I see no one.

I see no one, I do not see you. So what

have you done with my freedom? Who am I

behind the city wall? No mother kneading my long

hair with her eternal henna, and no sister

braids it. Who am I outside the wall between

neutral fields and an ashen sky. So be

my mother in the stranger's land. And take me

gently to whom I become tomorrow.

Who do I become tomorrow? Will I be born

out of your rib a woman without worry except to adorn

your life. Or will I cry over there on a rock

that used to guide my clouds to your water well?

Take me to the end

of the earth before morning rises on a moon that used

to cry blood in bed, and take me gently

as a star takes the dreamers in vain.

And in vain, I look behind Moab's mountains,

since no wind brings back the bride's dress. I love you

but my heart resonates with echo's return and longs

for another iris. Is there a sorrow more

confusing than a woman's happiness

on her wedding night? And I love you no matter how often I remember

my yesterday, no matter how often I remember that I forget

the echo in echo.

Echo in echo, and I moved into you

as a name moves from one creature to another.

We were two strangers in two faraway lands a while ago,

so what will I be tomorrow when I become

two? What have you done with my freedom?

Whenever my fear of you mounts, I rush into you,

my beloved stranger, since my ardent desire

is my only credit. So be a kind fox in my vineyard

and stare with the green of your eye in my ache.

I won't return to my name and my wilderness, never

never

never.

(Translated by Fady Joudah)