over the past few years i have

had a strange habit

every day at three in the morning

i walk out barefooted

into the yard

i grope the walls

as if drinking

out of their silence
i lean against the

trunk of a palmtree
and listen to all sorts of stories
it tells me while it soothes me
with the air off its palm
last night it told me i had been born
one autumn day
around the same time it had been planted
there was nothing green in our home then
except this tree and mother's eyes
it remembers her every now and then
she had a warm touch
she had a peaceful shadow
which never made any noise
she would often wash its leaves
so all the trees around envied it
and so it goes on with its

stories until the sun is up
and when it sees me drowse

it pulls out mother's shadow
from deep down its roots
it hands it over to me

and summons the birds to come sing to me

until i lie sleeping in her arms...


Translation:Paul Abucean