I Yield My Days

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I Yield My Days

by Adonis

I yield my days to an identity

rising and falling under my vessel

and I dig, in my eyes, my grave.

I am lord of the phantoms I grant them

my sex and yesterday I granted them my language

And I cried out to History, defeated

Stumbling, I tripped over my lips

And I cried out to the terror that burns

up the green trees in my lungs.

I am lord of the phantoms I hit them

and urge them on in my blood and my throat

The sun is a grave and I throw at it

my lariat and the wind is my hat.

Translated with the help of Mirene Ghossein

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