I remember now, in my forties,
a tree
next to my home
beside a brook
I remember now our secrets:
how she used to spread her shadows under me
bend her branches around me
and slip into my clothes
putting me on
as I put her on
together entering the brook.
I remember now, in my forties,
my stories to the tree about the tulips
and about the girl
who left us
only shadows over the water.
And I moved away
how far did I move away?
But I still see her
stretch her branches towards me
in order to lift me--to heaven.
By Fadhil Obaid Assultani
Translated by Saadi A. Simawe