الرَّاحلون

They are chosen by the guide of absence

Their signs in a stillness of the spirit

Guarding their silence,

A hidden voice in intentions

That kept calling from afar in their name

They advance

With all the hope that luck holds

Into an absence furnished by edges,

They walk in a majestic fate

Toward the bank of their demise,

Like those who know

The secret of existence's questions, they moved forward,

Like the confident

With the book of life's illusions

And the specter of reasons for survival, they advanced,

Because they thought that the earth

Is narrower than the vastness of their eyes

And because they found

A mysterious marble path

Leading to the absence of the beginning, they departed,

They vanished from sight

Like a forgotten poem

That landed on the edge of absence

They did not write a single line for our hearts

In the mail of absence after their departure

They remained there in possibilities

Gazing into the farthest reaches and its desolation,

They disappeared without revealing to us from their wandering

The distant tree and its shadow,

They did not tell us

What their pupils said to them

In the silver of the mirror the last time

The shadow of contemplation

In the glimmers of mirage is our path

In their connection, and our share of their warmth

Feathers tossed by the dust

But they

Despite the withdrawal of time from their hours

Come in the twilight of the tale

Without a prior appointment,

We can barely hear their footsteps,

In dreams, we glimpse them

Descending on the eyelash of imagination,

We love them

And prolong the kiss of the free sparkle

In their pupils,

With all the longing of the worlds, we embrace them

To our chests, to the fire of this loss

In our souls,

But in the morning - when we open

Our eyelids - they evaporate with the air

They did not grant our illusions

Extra time for longing to improvise

To build its prolonged lament

From the shouts of nothingness