حقولٌ محتملةْ !

1

I bid farewell to the lazy house

in the footsteps

of tales,

standing in the corner

of the cold like a cat,

hesitant like a morning clock;

before I leave the courtyard of its soul,

leaning towards a wisdom left by its people

on the thresholds,

wrapped in the jokes of the dead!

2

How many clouds will resemble me

how many branches of wind

will whip the edges of the extended frost

like a lineage of migrating birds

whose wings are without flutter?!

How many lands have their young ones

managed to sell the moon to a strange night,

and empty the baskets of stars

of visions and dictionaries;

to bury me with them

as I dreamed of myself

pulled from my family's bequests

like the swords of those returning from the bequests of mysterious wars!

3

And they passed by me

in haste like panting

immersed in their days, intensely

mourning its moments;

so the dates of my poems did not wave

to them with the sins of the words!

4

You are the woman I looked at

before I die;

so wait for me..

be a raging door on the path of

my footsteps,

so that the distraction of your soul

does not let in

another

and I return to you with a body that has not been pecked

by the birds of our ancestors on its face

with the beaks of similar death!

5

In the soft air

the sound of the flute hides

in silence necessarily

so that it may moan!

6

With barren hands

I raise the ceiling of visions

so that the shepherds of meanings may steal

from its waters

buckets of words!!

7

I hang the air on the corners of the house of

poetry, its pillars standing

like a clock of appointment;

and I return the rebab to my father's voice

erased from its bow

the fingers

wet in its belly

the breaths of the melodies!