I am the Unlucky Lover

My heart rebelled against me. 

I am the unlucky lover 

A Daffodil for me and another on me
I walk on the coast of love. I deliver greetings
swiftly. And I write on the doves’ wing
Letters from me to me. 

How many women tore pieces of me
Like the child tearing apart his cloud
I did not suffer, I did not learn. Nor did I protect his star
From the cloud lagging behind the distant hedge

I walk on love like mist in the tree ring
And do not provide shelter for me, no rain
I walk by as the shadow crosses over the rock
And I stripped myself out of a body I do not see
I carry my heart, a shirt on my shoulder 

I fear the returning to any night I’ve known
I fear the eyes that traverse the shores
And see my heart - plain and simple
I fear my confession
That I am fearful to return to any chest I’ve drenched
So, I throw myself in a well... in me. 

I am the unlucky lover. I have said a lot of words
And flowing, about the wheat when the swallow hatch amongst us. I said the sleepiness of wine what the eyes couldn’t 

And I divided my heart on the bird until it flies and until it lands I said some playful things. I have said a lot of words 

About love in order not to love,and protect me of what will be 

From the hopelessness between my hands
And love, to whoever calls it love, who are you until you torment this air
Adding to the madness of a thirty-year-old woman
And make me a guard to the marble that asks who reaches the sky?
what is your name, love, what is the name of the distant suspension below my eyelids  what is the name of the country that paraded in footsteps of a paradise woman weeping

 And who are you sir, love until we obey or desire your intentions

 To become your victims? 

Do not worship until you see the last angel at my rest.

I am the unlucky lover. Sleep to follow your vision, sleep
to escape my past which you fear. Sleep to forget yourself. Sleep to forget my position on the first wheat in the first field in the first land. Sleep 

to know that I love you more than I love you. Sleep
to stuff the bush hairs in the body of a cooing dove
and sleep to know in any salt, I die, and any witness will be resurrected. And sleep to count the heavens and the shape of nature within you. 

 Hand in Hand
And sleep to excavate a stream of my soul that escaped my words
And fell to your knees...to cry out.

I love, love, love you. I am not able to return to the first sea.
I am not able to go to the last sea, tell me
to where does the sea take me in your desire
and how many times will the small beasts awaken from your shrieks? lead me to seize the strength of the partridge 

On your knees. 

I love, love, love you. but I do not want to leave your wave
leave me, leave me like the sea leaves its shells on the shore of eternal isolation 

I am the unlucky lover. I cannot go to you.
I cannot return to myself.
My heart rebelled against me. 

It’s a Song, It’s a Song 
1985

Written by Mahmoud Darwish

Translated by Rachel Shamsie