Marriage Poems (Everyman's Library) Book

When your thoughts
don't take you too far
and you are silent
as you tremble
and gaze
at the trellis of your hands.

When the chariot of your imagination
does not lead you into tunnels
lit up with apprehensions
and lightnings
as you remain silent
and tremble
gazing at the smoke twirling
around your wrist.

When the woman who lets
her scarf fall
through the evening's emptiness
greets you, and you don't
acknowledge
her greeting, but rather
remain silent, and tremble
as you gaze
at the destinies that unfold, lurching
in your coffee cup.

When the new immigrants pass by
arm in arm with their local women
blabbering about time that flees
so soon, and you keep silent
as you tremble and gaze
at the table's
ambiguous wood.

When you don't sit with anyone
and remember war only
as a horseshoe, or a coat
riddled with bullets.

When, upon an evening, in a cafe
the faces pass by you
like copper clouds
as you listen to cymbals that chime
in a faraway desert
or masts that break
in imaginary gulfs.

When the blind singer's
record spins, once upon an evening,
in a cafe, the customers sigh
and you walk toward the axe
where it leans against the tree.

'Amjad Nasser, from "Once Upon an Evening, in a Cafe"