Most Read... Rebecca WattsThe Cult of the Noble Amateur
(PN Review 239)
John McAuliffeBill Manhire in Conversation with John McAuliffe
(PN Review 259)
Patricia CraigVal Warner: A Reminiscence
(PN Review 259)
Eavan BolandA Lyric Voice at Bay
(PN Review 121)
Vahni CapildeoOn Judging Prizes, & Reading More than Six Really Good Books
(PN Review 237)
Tim Parksin conversation with Natalia Ginzburg
(PN Review 49)
Next Issue Gwyneth Lewis ‘Spiderings’ Ian Thomson ‘Fires were started: Tallinn, 1944’ Adrian May ‘Traditionalism and Tradition’ Judith Herzberg ‘Poems’ translated by Margitt Helbert Horatio Morpurgo ‘What is a Book?’
Poems Articles Interviews Reports Reviews Contributors
Reader Survey
PN Review Substack

This poem is taken from PN Review 35, Volume 10 Number 3, January - February 1984.

Poems A.A. Hendley

HABIBI

(After the Arabic)

Take the moon from that tree's branches, it's yours
  For good, although it is not mine to give
  Our hearts would mitigate its theft and shrive,
Regretting nothing, their own guilt and course.
Closely they're set upon a narrow sea,
  Loom toward that distant white shore where they'll beach
  On a place where no hand or heart can reach
Home to dreamless lands that grow no such tree.

Even now as your pale clouds net the moon
  So fancies dim, but prove that it is gone.
In love these things occur, and we'll know soon
  Nearing night's end if, when the mad moon shone,
Each half-slept vision was a dream of noon
  Demanding sense, or if you'll take the sun.
...


Searching, please wait... animated waiting image