Poems

Like the Most Cultivated Farm

1
Like the most cultivated farm
the forest copious with leaves
a field crammed full of green
like Caad, like Gar-Loo-Gubay
the abundance we uncover there
the coy leap of antelope –
you’re like an immaculate place.
 
Who else could fortune favour
and misery cry farewell to
but that lucky fool who has you
to share his crust of food with,
to commune with through night's freedoms.
 
2
You’re like a cloud-filled sky
that lets its cup spill rain
like the sun called up each dawn
or I cast you as the Moon
its light that cuts through evening
in complete and utter darkness
you conjure up the world.
 
Who else could fortune favour
but that lucky uncaught girl
precontracted by fate
to care for and raise your children
and conceive upon the palm-leaf mat.
 
3
The cursive creases of your neck
the curving of your upper arm
Allah the Just justly created
with each category of the lovely
you, from core to corpuscle
God made completely good
and free from imperfection.
 
Who else could fortune favour
and misery cry farewell to
but that lucky fool who has you
to share his crust of food with,
to commune with through night's freedoms.
 
4
And you are eloquent and learned
your speech so educated
chief of the clan and of men
beyond comparison with others
uncommon man: I have not seen
your peer in any part of this country –
you confound me with delight.
 
Who else could fortune favour
but that lucky uncaught girl
precontracted by fate
to care for and raise your children
and conceive upon the palm-leaf mat.
 
5
Like the Eid of Sacrifice
when the young of both sexes
wear robes of finest cloth
come together in celebration
and the evening conjoins
clean fragrance with fine perfume​
so it is to consort with you.
 
Who else could fortune favour
and misery cry farewell to
but that lucky fool who has you
to share his crust of food with,
to commune with through night's freedoms.
 
6
How love accumulates in me
grows heavier constantly
till I can’t carry it myself
and you can have no doubt
how achingly I need you
it hollows me to skin and bone
until a stick would feel envy.
 
Who else could fortune favour
but that lucky uncaught girl
precontracted by fate
to care for and raise your children
and conceive upon the palm-leaf mat. 

 

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