The Rider Poem by Qassim Haddad

Welcome Rider
Highwayman
ragged with hunger and cold
frightened by winds
Come, retreat to my tent
Rest awhile, lay down your sword
This fire that warms the soul is for you
This dew-washed robe is for you
and the wine stored in the tent,
the mare poised to charge,
the lance made of lightning, are all for you
and yours is the pillow
but don't let sleep swallow you up
for those caravans
filling the horizon come for you
they come for you, for you, for you
they come for you.

Translated by: Lena jayyusi and Cbristopber Middleton