At the Foot of the Mountain, on the Sea, Higher Than the Cypress Tree, They Slept

At the foot of the mountain, on the sea, higher than the Cypress tree, they slept for the iron sky emptied them from memories. And the doves flew 
To a direction, their fingers pointed to, east of their remains 
Was it not their right to sprinkle the basil of their names on the water's moon 
And to plant oranges in the trenches to reduce the darkness 
They sleep beyond the narrow space above the foot of the mountain the words solidify within
They sleep on stones instrument of their majestic Anqa 
And we have enough heart we are able to arrive soon to the celebration of their things And we have enough heart we are able to retrieve the space to return these doves
To the first land. Those amongst us who sleep on the last land, greetings 

to you… greetings.

Fewer Roses 
1985

Written by Mahmoud Darwish
Translated by Rachel Shamsie