The Surah of the Bowstring

وَٱلْوَتَرِ إِذَا سَكَنَ بَعْدَ ٱلرَّنِينِ

By the string when it falls still after the ringing,

وَمَا بَقِيَ فِي ٱلْهَوَاءِ مِنْ أَثَرِ ٱلْقَوْسِ

And by what remains in the air of the trace of the bow:

إِنَّكَ تَحْسَبُ ٱلصَّمْتَ فَقْدًا وَهُوَ ٱلشَّدُّ ٱلَّذِي يُمْسِكُ ٱلْبَيْتَ

You reckon the silence a loss, yet it is the tension that holds the house.

لَوِ ٱرْتَخَىٰ مَا بَيْنَنَا لَسَقَطَ ٱلِٱسْمُ عَنِ ٱلْمُسَمَّىٰ

Were what is between us to slacken, the name would fall away from the named,

وَلَعَادَ ٱلْحَرْفُ حَجَرًا لَا يَعْرِفُ مَنْ نَقَشَهُ

And the letter would return to stone that does not know who carved it.

أَلَمْ تَرَ كَيْفَ يَبِيتُ ٱلْحَقْلُ تَحْتَ ٱلصَّقِيعِ

Have you not seen how the field passes the night beneath the frost?

لَا يَمُوتُ ٱلْبَذْرُ فِي ظُلْمَتِهِ بَلْ يَحْفَظُ شَكْلَ ٱلسُّنْبُلَةِ فِي سِرِّهِ

The seed does not die in its darkness; rather, it keeps the geometry of the ear of grain in its secret.

وَإِذَا تَبَاعَدَ ٱلشَّاهِدَانِ اتَّسَعَ ٱلْمَقَامُ لِمَا لَمْ يُقَلْ بَعْدُ

And when the two witnesses stand apart, the station widens for what has not yet been said.

فَلَا تَسْأَلِ ٱللَّيْلَ عَمَّا طَوَاهُ مِنَ ٱلنَّهَارِ

So do not ask the night about what it folded away of the day;

سَلِ ٱلنَّغْمَةَ ٱلَّتِي تَنْتَظِرُ أُصْبُعَكَ عَلَى ٱلْعُودِ

Ask the note that waits for your finger upon the fret:

أَكَانَتْ غَائِبَةً قَبْلَ أَنْ تَمَسَّهَا أَمْ كَانَتْ هِيَ ٱلِٱنْتِظَارَ نَفْسَهُ

Was it absent before you touched it, or was it the waiting itself?

إِنَّ ٱللَّهَ لَا يُضِيعُ وَقْفَةً بَيْنَ كَلِمَتَيْنِ إِذَا صَدَقَ ٱلسَّامِعُ

Truly, God does not waste a pause between two words when the listener is true.

فَأَسْنِدْ ظَهْرَكَ إِلَى ٱلْحَدِّ ٱلَّذِي بَنَيْتَهُ بِيَدِكَ

So lean your back against the boundary you built with your own hand;

فَإِنَّ ٱلْجِدَارَ ٱلَّذِي يَفْصِلُ هُوَ ٱلْجِدَارُ ٱلَّذِي يَحْمِلُ ٱلسَّقْفَ

For the wall that separates is the wall that bears the roof.