Tough relations
As songs were so often taken from my lips
The murmur in my poetic spirit is broken
Don’t seek happiness in my words
As it died in the feverish sorrow of my happy nature
If you think you can see stars in my eyes
It is a fiction written from my boundless vision
Don’t ask about the love that was the poem’s inspiration
My loving words recall a death
I will become a rose of hope, a river
As drops of tears cannot solve my problems
Though I am a girl from the city of the qasidah and the ghazal
My clumsy poem was rotten and raw
My stubborn sapling didn’t respond to the gardener’s touch
Don’t expect too much brightness from my saplings
I swear on my hands, feet and the language of realpolitik
I swear on time’s tablet that this was my goal
2001
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