The cypress is the tree’s grief and not                                 the tree, and it has no shadow because it is                                 the tree’s shadow

Bassam Hajjar

The cypress broke like a minaret, and slept onthe road upon its chapped shadow, dark, green,as it has always been. No one got hurt. The vehiclessped over its branches. The dust blewinto the windshields … / The cypress broke, butthe pigeon in a neighboring house didn’t changeits public nest. And two migrant birds hovered abovethe hem of the place, and exchanged some symbols.And a woman said to her neighbor: Say, did you see a storm?She said: No, and no bulldozer either … / And the cypressbroke. And those passing by the wreckage said:Maybe it got bored with being neglected, or it grew oldwith the days, it is long like a giraffe, and littlein meaning like a dust broom, and couldn’t shade two lovers.And a boy said: I used to draw it perfectly,its figure was easy to draw. And a girl said: The sky todayis incomplete because the cypress broke.And a young man said: But the sky today is completebecause the cypress broke. And I saidto myself: Neither mystery nor clarity,the cypress broke, and that is allthere is to it: the cypress broke!

– Mahmoud Darwish