Rimbaud’s Beach is only a mile from the “Elephant Trunk”where dolphins leap up laughing and Russian women twirl,where Goldmore Road stretches, and beer like water flows,where sailors drown among the nymphs.I was there secretly, observing a blind lighthouse,watched how the seaweed swayed with the waves.Aden held a star on her forehead, strove to lifta bolder off of the oppressed Arabs’ chests.Is Rimbaud’s Beach still there stretched longand shimmering in the red setting sun,like a lighthouse flaunting its light, free, unmatched?Are there any women swimming in the tranquil sea?Aden is now gone, and we are finished too.Let’s ask: What were we then, and who?(Translated from the Arabic by Khaled Mattawa)