A moment after midnight <br />every night <br />jazz begins to soak the Jazz Corner <br />like new wine <br />like village wine <br />A moment after midnight <br />every night <br />a woman descends a dark staircase <br />to sing Brazil <br />or balconies in candlelight <br />or the village girls <br />A moment after midnight <br />every night <br />A door is opened <br />and the flower seller enters <br />tired <br />and she leaves tired and crowned with anguish <br />and the aroma of the villages <br />A moment, after the clock strikes three <br />I shut my lids <br />The Jazz Corner is asleep under my eyes <br />I hear the pulse of your hands on my arm <br />and I am comforted <br />and I feel in the silence the pulse of the villages. <br /> <br />Translated by Khaled Mattawa<br /><br />Saadi Youssef<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-jazz-corner/
