When the feared day came, I roamed the city looking for traces of your scent, the city is big and my lungs are small,  
I inhaled whatever my pores could take in, the Kebab of every street, a whiff of the pomegranates of the South, the dust of the North, but you were not in the air, you were gone.

Cities have no honor, but this one is no traitor,

you flee anyway, and I,
I weep over your streets.