He sat on the balcony
trying to touch the fingers of the wind
playing with his hair
When the wind moved a flower
he would say it was a hand.
When lightning flashed across the sky
he would say it was a glance,
a smile that might have
left lips
to come and rest with him.

He sat on the balcony
trying to think of some people
to fill the empty seats around him.

— Wadih Sa’adeh
Translated from the Arabic by Anne Fairbairn

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