We present this work in honor of Tunisian Independence Day.

 

A mask left me stranded at the beginnings of the world
and my delible ashes for a long while swirled
in the depths of Punic Tophets.
And my powerless breath wore itself out, for a long time
at the pediments of Roman glory.
O my lifeblood, my Numidian vigor.
There has always been roaming, always the wind,
And the exultation of sands as vain armies of crystal.
And the damp shelter of hillside caves in the steppes of exile.
And bare tufts, always there, in the hollow of a summer brought forth.
Always, always, the tenacious, fragile dream
of a riverbank where to land is to be reborn
naked, reconciled,
and living
at the pace of swaying palm trees.

Translation by Patrick Williamson