配图 / Magnus

配图 / Magnus Beirut, My Birthmark Beirut, my birthmark What came with you, Beirut？ Bullets before my mother's milk Beirut, you are under my skin, split bit by bit You melt into sunset on blistered rooftops It hurts to touch you, Beirut You are a lesson I will never learn It hurts to love you, Beirut But I still knock at your door at 4:00 a.m. With the neon lights in your neighborhood are dwindling when the political chants in your square are soothed I will stay outside your door I know you will never open for me Beirut, I kissed your cracked sidewalks And slept huddled against your bullet ridden walls You and I, it's a love story for the books Dima Mikayel Matta #诗歌

配图 / Nirav Patel

配图 / Nirav Patel Good-Night A latch lifting, an edged den of light Opens across the yard. Out of the low door They stoop in the honeyed corridor, Then walk straight through the wall of the dark. A puddle, cobble-stones, jambs and doorstep Are set steady in a block of brightness. Till she strides in again beyond her shadows And cancels everything behind her. Seamus Heaney #诗歌