As a part of its continuing effort to share a portion of the literary wealth of Arabic poetry with the English reader, The Arab American News translates a poem by the legendary Syrian poet Nizar Qabbani.

Nothing remains except us in the restaurant,

Nothing except the shadow of two heads leaning on each other…

Nothing except the hand gestures of two lovers…

And the residues of coffee

In the depth of two cups…

Nothing remains except us in the restaurant.

Beirut… Diving like a pearl

In your black eyes.

Beirut disappears fully,

Its sand, sky and homes,

Under your descending eyelids

Beirut. I search for Beirut

On your eyelashes and lips,

So I see it a marine bird

And I see it a diamond necklace.

And I see it an alluring woman,

Wearing a hat of feather

With a golden pin,

And hiding a gardenia flower behind her ear…

Beirut! When you’re on my chest

Is something that does not occur in prophecies.

From the day we met in it,

Beirut became the world.  

Nothing remains but us in the restaurant…

The cashmere scarf on your shoulders

Waves a garden of basil.

Your hand is extended over mine

Your eyes are clear in front of me like April’s sky

And the youth of your face 

Is more convincing than all religions.

As long as my kingdom is your eyes,

I am the sultan of my time.

The restaurant has become abandoned.

And I’m staring in my cup

What would be in my cup?*

Except rain and winds

And birds of melancholy…

A woman from Lebanon slaughters me

She is worth Solomon’s throne.

Oh my Lebanese love.

Oh My Lebanese wound.

Nothing occupies my mind except you

Nothing resides under my eyelids except you.

All the women of the world have perished,

And you remained in my cup.

*In Arab culture, coffee residues are used for psychic readings. 

The content of the cup is symbolic of the future.

— Translated by Ali Harb