Between two wars you came.
You mediated
And lit the fire of a new love.

And we began to spread ourselves between two suns
One for me
And the other for your eyes when the roads vanished
And we only fell out over the A
When it wanted to insert itself
Between the W and R.

We told each other I love you.
The wars are made beautiful with songs.
The songs wipe the blood from the wars’ lips.

We’re never far from its grip.
We can exchange with it our stay
And I was as I always was
Loving your letters and always want them.

You, my soul mate,
You, the voice of my voice,
You, the dotting and un-dotting of my letters
the teacher says:
she would remove my sorrows
and heal my tender soul?
I said:
I will make flowers of you;
And I had forgotten the greenness of an evening,
after the drought of my femininity.
Return to me then
So that we can hate this imposter
This idiot
The image is like a blonde
Forgotten by the aged.
Forgetting that our sky
Is black despite his existence,
And red despite his clinging to the tails of a dubious morning’s veil
Come back
So we can hate him
This traitor
Over the uniformed streets he looms like a policeman watching.
My finger tips and your fingertips
Come back again,
So I can show you my essence
I your notebook
Come back to me then,
So I can tell the apples in the basket
Like they told me about you.
translated by Dikra Ridha