from “The Night Side”
Translated from French by Marilyn Hacker X Who will tell the sun about my land my harried medlar tree my springtime without nervures my helpful hand Who will recount my rootless garden and my door open to all comers my night of faraway sounds my wheat that absorbs the hours Who will cure me of my sequestration and sweet secret —my monochrome dream my space gone gray at the temples the barter of my frenzy the slumber at the edge of my well of fever My steppe with an abundance of laughter Perhaps it would be enough . . . But I watch time passing
Originally published in the January 2019 issue of Words Without Borders. © Djamal Amrani. By arrangement with the author. Translation © 2019 by Marilyn Hacker. All rights reserved.