by Agha Shahid Ali
What will suffice for a true-love knot？ Even the rain？
But he has bought grief's lottery1， bought even the rain.
our glosses2 / wanting in this world Can you remember？
Anyone！ when we thought / the poets taught even the rain？
After we diedThat was it！God left us in the dark.
And as we forgot the dark， we forgot even the rain.
Drought was over. Where was I？ Drinks were on the house.
For mixers， my love， you'd pouredwhat？even the rain.
Of this pear-shaped orange's perfumed twist， I will say：
Extract Vermouth from the bergamot， even the rain.
How did the Enemy love youwith earth？ air？ and fire？
He held just one thing back till he got even： the rain.
This is God's site for a new house of executions？
You swear by the Bible， Despot， even the rain？
After the bonesthose flowersthis was found in the urn3：
The lost river， ashes from the ghat， even the rain.
What was I to prophesy4 if not the end of the world？
A salt pillar for the lonely lot， even the rain.
How the air raged， desperate， streaming the earth with flames
to help burn down my house， Fire sought even the rain.
He would raze5 the mountains， he would level the waves，
he would， to smooth his epic6 plot， even the rain.
New York belongs at daybreak to only me， just me
to make this claim Memory's brought even the rain.
They've found the knife that killed you， but whose prints are these？
No one has such small hands， Shahid， not even the rain.
