The Dove

From The New Yorker, September 5, 1988.

The Dove
by Abul Hasan Ali Ben Hisn
Arabo-Analdusian poems, ninth-thirteenth centuries

The surprise of my life:
On a bough between
Isle and river a dove

Cooing, his collar
Pistache green, lapis his breast
Neck shimmering and maroon

His back and wing tips.
Pupils of ruby, over them eyelids
Of pearl flitted, trimmed with gold,

Black the point
Of his beak, like
The tip of a reed

Dipped in ink. On the arak bough,
His throne, throat now hid
In the fold of a wing, he rested.

But he saw me weep.
Scared by a sob
On the bough he stood,

Spread wings, beat them,
Took as he flew my heart
Away. Where? I know not.