The Wedding

By Mahmood Kandil , translated by Nital Meshkoor

That morning your mother said,"Be yourself, my daughter. Do not deviate, do not turn aside, do not flee."

Tonight you will be wedded in your grey wedding dress, then roam the streets in a silent parade of cars, through with dusty, yellow air lit with -dir-ty lights. On your right are empty buildings and foul odors. On your left, bent naked trees, and their abandoned nests. Over your deaf parade, the dark gloom does not announce your destiny. Deep inside, your heart hastens the arrival of that moment,and you shout, "When will we arrive?!"

The body lying beside you blushes, and crows hover in the twilight of sunset, the streets groan, the river trembles in its course, and you arrive. The car doors open, and the passengers emerge, circle the car, and invite you to step out. Those next to you, guide you down, pulling your arms, and open a path for you to proceed. As you descend, you look at your abandoned wedding nest, you are petrified when you see its worn out walls. A gust of wind rattles the windows, you hear muttering from from inside house, calling you to him. You refuse, but your companions shove you into the yard. You cry out for help. When you are in the in the yard of the small house, all you see is your tombstone.

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