For the best experience using our website, we recommend upgrading your browser to a newer version or switching to a supported browser.
I stood in the red church,
its tiny domes like buds
blossoming in stone,
I stood near the saint’s resting place
while a tourist laid her cheek on the tombstone
to hear his beating heart.
But I was no tourist,
and the saint left the room with me,
and the church the builders wrote in his memory
was nothing more
than a passing dream in his eternal sleep.
The tourists come in vain,
as do the believers.
© Najwan Darwish. Translation © 2022 by Kareem James Abu-Zeid.
I stood in the red church,
its tiny domes like buds
blossoming in stone,
I stood near the saint’s resting place
while a tourist laid her cheek on the tombstone
to hear his beating heart.
But I was no tourist,
and the saint left the room with me,
and the church the builders wrote in his memory
was nothing more
than a passing dream in his eternal sleep.
The tourists come in vain,
as do the believers.
© Najwan Darwish. Translation © 2022 by Kareem James Abu-Zeid.
وَقَفْتُ في الكَنيسة الحَمْراء
بِقِبابِها الصَّغيرةِ مِثْلَ بَراعِمَ مُتَفَتّحةٍ في الحَجَر
وَقَفْتُ قُرْبَ مَرْقَدِ القِدّيس
السّائحةُ تَضَعُ خَدَّها على بَلاطَةِ الضَّريح لِتَسْمَعَ نَبْضَ قَلْبِه
لَسْتُ سائحاً مِثْلَها
,القِدّيسُ غادَرَ مَعي الحُجْرةَ
والكَنيسةُ التي كَتَبَها البَنّاؤون في ذِكْراه
كانت حُلُماً صَغيراً في رَقْدَتِه
عَبثاً يَصِلُ السّائحونَ
.والمُؤمِنون
