The clouds sketch us in their manner

and the faces get mixed up with the vision,

nothing is complete, nor anyone, because in a moment

your new image will become the image of the tiger

wounded by the wind’s scepter…

Unknown painters are still in front of you

playing, and the drawing the absolute eternal,

white, like clouds on the wall of the universe…

And the poets build homes with clouds

then move on…

from  Mahmoud Darwish  Describing Clouds


3 thoughts on “Clouds

  1. Beautuful, I agree, and the photo you’ve chosen to accompany these words is so appropriate — it has body and depth and character, not like those faint willow-the-wisps you sometimes see, or those singular and brash johnny-come-lately aircraft contrails.

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