Ahmad Al-Za'Tar

For two hands, of stone and of thyme I dedicate this song.. For Ahmad, forgotten between two butterflies The clouds are gone and have left me homeless, and The mountains have flung their mantles and concealed me ..From the oozing old wound to the contours of the land I descend, and The year marked the separation of the sea from the cities of ash, and I was alone Again alone O alone? And Ahmad Between two bullets was the exile of the sea A camp grows and gives birth to fighters and to thyme And an arm becomes strong in forgetfulness Memory comes from trains that have left and Platforms that are empty of welcome and of jasmine In cars, in the landscape of the sea, in the intimate nights of prison cells In quick liaisons and in the search for truth was The discovery of self In every thing, Ahmad found his opposite For twenty years he was asking For twenty years he was wandering For twenty years, and for moments only, his mother gave him birth In a vessel of banana leaves And departed He seeks an identity and is struck by the volcano The clouds are gone and have left me homeless, and The mountains have flung their mantles and concealed me I am Ahmad the Arab, he said I am the bullets, the oranges and the memory