Restless, shifting, fugacious as time itself is a certain vast bulk of the population of the red brick district of the lower West Side. Homeless, they have a hundred homes. They flit from furnished room to furnished room, transients forever - transients in abode, transients in heart and mind. They sing "Home, Sweet Home" in ragtime; they carry their lares et penates in a bandbox; their vine is entwined about a picture hat; a rubber plant is their fig tree. (O. Henry)
11 Avril 2023
Why, you are so scared of the dark!
Your bones quiver as if nipped by a spark
Your heart wishes it fell in eternal sleep
No friends, your depression is so deep
How bravely you struggle and fight
Bearing no weapon, heavy or light!
Your serious wounds make you fall
Alas there is none to hear your call
Mikhail Naimy, Lebanese writer and poet (1889-1988)
(Translated freely from Arabic into English by Omar K.)
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