Mahmoud Darwish, The Butterfly's Burden

 ​Slowly I massage your sleep. You're the name of what's in me of dream, so sleep. The night will blanket its trees, and will doze off on its earth as a master of a brief absence. Sleep and I will float on drops of light that leak from a moon I enclose....

Your hair above your marble is a tent for bedouins who absently sleep and don't dream. Your pair of doves illuminates you from your shoulders to your daisy sleep. Sleep upon and in yourself. Upon you the salaam of heaven and earth opening up their halls one by one.....

Sleep wraps you up with me. No angels carry the bed and no ghost awakes the jasmine. O my feminine name, sleep since no flute cries over a made that escapes my tents...

You are as you dream, the summer of northerly land anesthetizing its thousand forests in the pounce of sleep.

​Sleep and don't awaken a body desiring a body in my sleep