On one of my last days in Berlin, my boss asks me to translate the word “cusp”. We are looking through the poetry collection I produced at work and, in a piece yet to be translated, which reflects on the beautifully curated children’s book Manchmal male ich ein Haus für uns: Europas vergessene Kinder (Sometimes I paint us a house: Europe’s forgotten children), I refer to someone being on the “cusp of sleep”. I ponder and eventually offer up “Grenze”, which translates as “border”.

MEA columnist Florence Coumbe explores the social and literary nuances of poetry in Arab societies through the lens of a student of the Arabic language whilst on her year abroad in Amman, Jordan.