Oh sea, you conceal my paradise
on your other shore…
I recall Sicily — in my soul
pain resurrects her image,
land of youth’s mad joys,
now desert, once alive like
the flower of noble minds.
Driven from paradise,
how can I bear witness to it?
If my tears were not so bitter
I could believe that they
were rivers of that holy place.
Translated from Arabic by Justin Vitiello