Here it is @eazal, still not entirely accurate translation but it will do.. enjoy!

Between us 
twenty years of age*
between your lips and my lips 
when they meet and stay 
the years collapse 
the glass of a whole life shatters. 

The day I met you I tore up 
all my maps 
and my prophecies 
like an Arab stallion I smelled the rain 
of you 
before it wet me 
heard the pulse of your voice 
before you spoke 
undid your hair with my hands 
before you had braided it 

There is nothing I can do 
nothing you can do 
what can the wound do 
with the knife on the way to it? 

Your eyes are like a night of rain 
in which ships are sinking 
and all I wrote is forgotten 
In mirrors there is no memory. 

God how is it that we surrender 
to love giving it the keys to our city 
carrying candles to it and incense 
falling down at its feet asking 
to be forgiven 
Why do we look for it and endure 
all that it does to us 
all that it does to us? 

I knew when I said 
I love you 
that I was inventing a new alphabet 
for a city where no one could read 
that I was saying my poems 
in an empty theater 
and pouring my wine 
for those who could not 
taste it. 

When God gave you to me 
I felt that He had loaded 
everything my way 
and unsaid all His sacred books. 

Who are you 
woman entering my life like a dagger 
mild as the eyes of a rabbit 
soft as the skin of a plum 
pure as strings of jasmine 
innocent as children’s bibs 
and devouring like words? 

Your love threw me down 
in a land of wonder 
it ambushed me like the scent 
of a woman stepping into an elevator 
it surprised me 
in a coffee bar 
sitting over a poem 
I forgot the poem 
It surprised me 
reading the lines in my palm 
I forgot my palm 
It dropped on me like a blind deaf 
wildfowl 
its feathers became tangled with mine 
its cries were twisted with mine 

It surprised me 
as I sat on my suitcase 
waiting for the train of days 
I forgot the days 
I traveled with you 
to the land of wonder 

Your image is engraved 
on the face of my watch 
It is engraved on each of the hands 
It is etched on the weeks 
months years 
My time is no longer mine 
it is you

*time spent in separation.

Between us by Nizar Qabbani

Love, February.