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Honeysuckle
Chèvrefeuille - زهر العسل
Description

Poem
The Ivy
The flower may sulk in spring, taking offence
Of winter’s hailstones or summer’s impeding blaze;
But steadfastly devoted to its humble task,
The ivy endures:
“I cling or else I die,”
The tree, to become a mast crowned by a cloud of foam,
Leaves its native sky, swept away upon the waves;
But steadfastly devoted to its humble task,
The ivy persists:
“I cling or else I die,”
The old ancestral roof, heavy with memories,
Falls into ruin once neglected;
But steadfastly devoted to its humble task,
The ivy remains.
“I cling or else I die.”
Published in La Montagne Parfumée
Éditions de la Revue Phénicienne, 2004