Melancholetta

Migration by Wadih Sa'adeh

Hi,

This guys is some obscure poet from Lebanon. he writes about war mostly. I found some of the translations very powerful. This one is the best, i guess.

Stangenlord

Migration

When they left they did not lock their doors;
they left water in the basin for the nightingale
and the stray dog that used to visit them.
On the dining table, they left bread, a pitcher of water
and a tin of sardines.

They said nothing before they left, but their silence
was like a covenant
with the door, the pitcher and the bread on the table.
The road, the only thing to feel their footsteps,
could not see them afterwards,
however it did eventually.
But one day it became numbed by the wheat carried
along it from dawn till dusk
and from doors it had seen leaving their place in the walls.

The sea recalled that some sardines had flopped into it,
swimming on to unknown places.
Those who remained in the village
said that a stray dog would come each evening
and howl in front of their house.

-- Wadih Sa'adeh

posted by Dileepan @ 8:02 PM