“When a tree becomes a boat it learns to swim. When it becomes a door it continues to keep secrets. When it becomes a chair it does not forget the sky that was once above it. When it becomes a table it teaches the poet not to be a woodcutter.”
Mahmoud Darwish, “If only the young were trees” from “A river dies of thirst”.
The poet teaches the sky not to fall, the ink not to dry at each drip of the woe-man's sorrow; and it teaches rain not to withdraw its love for want of a tiny thunder waiting on the other side.