This is me, a prose poem, I flow between the features of time with complete freedom, and penetrate the body of dates like a magic ray. I strike the face of darkness, and shatter the glass of its imaginary eyes. And there on the hills of its chest I raise the banner of unforgettable love.

Yes, this is me, a prose poem; My breath is hot like Indian pepper, from above its hat a burning hymn flies. In my heart is a destructive storm, but my body is elegant and furnished, created by a wild stream whose water never stops.

Yes, this is me, a prose poem, my sandy dress shatters with complete freedom, and my magic is a flowing narrative, but you cannot hold me, my laughter is a distinguishing mark for the morning and a mad confession to a field full of butterflies. When I visit you, I visit you with all kindness, and when I melt in your cup, I become your enchanting voice and the legend that inhabits the non-place and walks in timelessness. Above my sleepy hands are the sun’s waterfalls, and from my eyes fairy tales begin, so the seasons and days gather around me so that I disappear into their depths with complete spontaneity.

I am very delicate; because I am a prose poem; I drown in a world of fog. How do you want to see me when I am that transparent shadow that tells everything? This is me, a prose poem, you feel strongly my warm touch but you will not see my elegant fingers.

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The writing and art by Anwer Ghani

BY THE RIVER BANK
You know that butterflies are the sound of the morning, and when they land on the city windows, they knock on the doors of dreams until the girls' faces shine on a winter morning, as if a forgotten journey had returned home before sunrise. Then I still walk with joy by the river bank, inhaling the very clear air that tells me its stories and interesting adventures.
I see the soft light of his heart shining green, by its bank, where everything sings. How happy I am with those unforgettable moments; they were colorful and soft like the face of the moon. Oh, you, river, how you promised me to show me the touches of soft dreams and to tell me about us every pearl sleeping in the shade and every colorful smile by your quiet bank.