the moon struck them as a little more shameless that day
they felt as if the snake really lay hidden in the grass too
by then even the girl's moans had become stifled
their slightly guilty expressions were washed away by indifferent dew
one by one, the five of them unbuttoned their pants slowly
and relieved themselves a little by pouring water for the moon
then they headed home, some through fields and brush, some turning
at crossroads, to knock at midnight—get up wife, give me rice ma
their darling boys had come home, all sighed with relief
only one among them woke up his sister, washed
his hands and face, and sat down to eat—don't be angry dear
chucking her under the chin—he's struck by surprise
the face of that working girl was just like the moon—
could it be that this one man might not be a man
—translated by Carolyn B. Brown
Chris Keulemans, "Imagination Behind the Wall: Cultural Life in Ramallah"
Harish Trivedi, "Translating Culture vs. Cultural Translation"
Mohammad Rafiq & Carolyn B. Brown, "Open Poem" & Selections from Bishkale Sandya
Selections from Bishkale Sandya
T. Alias Taib: In Memoriam
Three Poems by T. Alias Taib