Leave Me (For Just A Little) with poem by May Ziadeh

June 2, 2021

The sky today as I woke up, a continuation. And a note from me:

Dear May, I’ve enjoyed this series of skies. You paint so beautifully and shared your happiness with me at the same time. Thank you.


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When I lived in Brooklyn, NY I would hope often to someday live somewhere close to nature, where I could be in nature happily alone or with private company, a little more quietly, and I’d see it reverently. But I might wonder, what is it that I’d exactly do in nature? There wouldn’t be something happening there to view as often as one might in a movie, so would it be enough?

It is. If I am not watering the plants or lifting a strawberry off the stem, I will sit and still be very close to civilization. I might find some new words of my own, read a book and slowly flip the pages, see the sky change color and shade at moments of the night or day, and listen to the little nothings that are everything.

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I will write a literary critique of the book of poetry I am reading when I am finished because I think the author would like this and I would too.

The next to come literary post will be about the first short story book I’d read that was considered ‘art fiction’ with the author’s small original paintings telling the stories.

This blog hasn’t become Blush of May, but she continues with a poem of hers I’ve translated:

Leave Me!

By May Ziadeh 

Leave me, leave me 
in this charming refuge; 
Let me live like this, 
live alone and quiet 
far from the noise of the cities; 
Let my eyes 
look at these cherished visions, 
Let my thoughts dream softly 
the enchanted slumbers!

Leave me a few days; 
for I will only hear the light, 
harmonious and tender breath 
that speaks above these mountains; 
Keep away, for a time, 
from me the human voices 
that swell with jealousy 
and worldly hatred: 
Here we love each other!  
Oh, yeah, I do! 
We love each other: these lonely 
trees, these ruins of old times, 
these century-old remains.

And this sad rock; 
Everything loves me 
in these places,
everything attracts me 
and enchants me:
the leaves, I feel them palpitating, 
and the bird sings 
to see me approaching!

—May Ziadeh

(1911)

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