The Last Door
Arabic Poem By: Ali Al-Iskandari*
Inaam Al-Hashimi (Gold_N_Silk)
I don’t have a thing in this world but my heart and my poem
If you loved me for my heart, my poem would remain
A homeless orphan searching amidst the claws of sadness
For a traitor man who deserted her
and fled with a woman.
If you loved me for my poem,
My heart would die of the cold.
So take me in your hands, a romantic heart
And a poem from the heart,
As my heart alone without the poem is a ruin,
And my poem alone
Is a lie.
When you enter my heart, don’t close the door;
A flock of doves is behind you,
It follows you from The Thousand Nights;
And, also, behind you
Are the treasures of the East,
The brides of Babylon,
The crowns of kings,
And a bird waiting for permission
Since the beginning of the creation.
And when you go out of my heart
Be more magnanimous and leave me a little bit of warmth
And a handful of your luminous days
As I’ve been besieged by the cold since the first Ice Age
And there is not a drop of oil
In my lamp.
Translated by: Em. Prof. Inaam Al-Hashimi
* Ali Al-Iskandari is an Iraqi poet.