It is true that the Sufi's fingers are prayer beads,
it is true that the sun is a labyrinth for the eyes,
but do not say that the sunset sun shattered like mirrors
on the prayer beads of the strange Sufi
and gathered as white grains in the ear of wheat,
but say: Maria Antonovna suddenly smiled.
It is true that seconds have no fingers,
it is true that they always seize us by the wrong place,
but do not say that minutes scattered like a ripe cluster
on the prayer beads of the strange Sufi
and gathered as white grains of sand in the sundial,
but say: Maria Antonovna suddenly glanced at the clock.
It is true that the heart is a homeland,
it is true that the heart has no homeland,
but do not say that the cloud tore apart on the Sufi's prayer beads
and gathered as white drops of water in the spring,
but say: Maria Antonovna suddenly wept.
It is true that the rose captivates the gaze with its fragrance,
and it is true that the fragrance of the rose is for all people.
But do not say that the rose tore apart into petals in the storm
and gathered in the honeycombs and on the wings of bees.
But say that Maria Antonovna suddenly flung open her heart like a window.
Mogheer Barghuthy
Dec 16, 2025
Dec 16, 2025 at 12:16 AM UTC
It is true that the Sufi's fingers are prayer beads,
it is true that the sun is a labyrinth for the eyes,
but do not say that the sunset sun shattered like mirrors
on the prayer beads of the strange Sufi
and gathered as white grains in the ear of wheat,
but say: Maria Antonovna suddenly smiled.
It is true that seconds have no fingers,
it is true that they always seize us by the wrong place,
but do not say that minutes scattered like a ripe cluster
on the prayer beads of the strange Sufi
and gathered as white grains of sand in the sundial,
but say: Maria Antonovna suddenly glanced at the clock.
It is true that the heart is a homeland,
it is true that the heart has no homeland,
but do not say that the cloud tore apart on the Sufi's prayer beads
and gathered as white drops of water in the spring,
but say: Maria Antonovna suddenly wept.
It is true that the rose captivates the gaze with its fragrance,
and it is true that the fragrance of the rose is for all people.
But do not say that the rose tore apart into petals in the storm
and gathered in the honeycombs and on the wings of bees.
But say that Maria Antonovna suddenly flung open her heart like a window.
Mogheer Barghuthy
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