
The poem is by Egyptian writer Ahmad Shafei and comes from his verse collection: 77 (Cairo: Kutubkhan, 2017), where it is untitled but numbered 51. Translated by Humphrey Davies
Birds
have no hands.
They don’t expect a crutch
in old age
Or a pat on the back
in their moment of weakness
Or rings
Or keys
Or a goodbye wave.
Poetry?
They sing it and don’t care.
History?
They shit in the air.
Life?
They wing it.
Death?
They die alone.
الطيور
لا يدي لها
لا تنتظر في شيخوختها
سندًا
ولا في ضعفها
،تربيتةً
بلا خواتمَ
لا مفاتيحَ
.لا تلويحة في وداع
والقصائد؟
.تزقزقها ولا تبالي
والتاريخ؟
.تخرأ من أعلى
والحياة؟
.تَطِيرها
والموت؟
.تموت فرادى
