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God’s Rainbow! Nazih Abu-Afash
A
lonely tree of suffering is man, Sad, naked, swimming in a naked air! Oh Lord, if
I were a tree… a real tree, Laughing, swimming, dreaming, and never saying: “Make
me.” : Trees cannot be made. Trees dream only. …
… … Trees
rise on their own shoulders, Drink from their own springs, And dream their own immortalities… : Trees are the immortality of trees. * …
Trees are immortality without memory. Memory
is the cemetery of life, A cemetery badly furnished, Full of men, lifetimes, coffins, Passageways, and… closed windows! Therefore,
o Lord, save me in a cleansed memory. Save me in the memory of a tree-heart. Save me well and long In
the salted water of your affection: oblivion. * If
you really believe in me, o God, Tell
them—my loved ones—to burry me on the edge: The edge of time… and the edge of space. I
have an exalted craving to be immortal on an edge… A
craving for a beautiful, affectionate, bountiful, and… white death. The craving of a dead man: A
white craving for death! …
… … Erase
me then. If
you really believe in me Erase me for good, o God, Erase
the leaves, the boughs, the trunk, and the brain… Erase
the earth also: the house of death, the earth; Erase
all these—and me—altogether, But
spare me my root—the root of bountiful suffering, Sparkling in its own darkness. Let
it—my root— Carry on its stumbling journey in the air of light. Let
it dream of a fruit of light, A
leaf of light, And
a blast of light :
Let it dream of light. * The
fruit is white, The
bough is white, Leaves
are white, The
trunk is white, Dreams
are white… The
air, soil, water, blueness, and darkness also: all is white! I am
the son of “whiteness.” Therefore
many are my colors, sparkling, shining, and envied. I am God’s rainbow…
The inexhaustible treasury of beauty. I am the curlew’s dream. * Make
me then, o God, a root, Which hangs down, ascending In
the air of white skies. Make
me white… White… with all colors. … I am
your son, pilgrim, denier, and the son of your affection, The heir of your repentance, your martyr, and the
servant of your oblivion… Make me then… … …
… … …
… … Your
door is lifted on a word; Mine also. Both
of us, when passing across, bend… Both
of us say: “I weakened, suffered, despaired, Endured, regretted, and my soul arched!” Only
the “word” thus remains: High, upright, far-reaching… And
alive (alive in the curlew’s delight…) : The word is a goddess heard (heard but not listened
to!) The word is the bond of our secret and plain blood, … The never-severed bond of times. … : We
are both a voice of light. …
Make me then… … * Make
me—if you will—what you will, in whatever manner. You
may have regrets… As
for me I have none. : “Whiteness: what is never regretted.” * I am
your household, your table, your bread and wine, Your endeavor, and the path of your truth… Therefore:
do not fear the conspiracy of death. You are immortal in what I see and dream of. : Immortal in the whiteness of the curlew’s dream. …
And I: my house wherein the curlews of my dawn chant, Helping me in dream weaving. My
table is a song, is air, and a white craving for whiteness… “Me”
is my endeavor. I
have no truth:
“Truth is whiteness!” …
… … Then,
white and… white. White
as you made me, as I loved and craved. I am
all white: The skin of my beast, my horns, my blood, the longing of my curlews, my hooves, molars, heart, flippers, guns, my enemies’ fear, my bewilderment, the black of my eyes, my bones, garment, the thirst of my tongue, the darkness that I project while arching to pass across the gate (I arch to pass…) I am
all, all white, and full of dreams of my whiteness… Therefore…
I have no fear of being defiled. : “Whiteness is real…” … … Here I am reaching the edge! … … Night
of 30-31 December 2001 ***
*** *** Translated from Arabic by Dimitri Avghérinos |
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