We stopped in the middle of the road
The gypsy girl is still hurriedly reading my palm
She wants to catch the sun
When you reach the Sidr tree
The shadow has moved to the northeast
I had my back to the Atlas Mountains
I turned to your face and the sad East
And the night sings palm frond hymns
The cedar tree was humming its Berber song
Ghariba, the forest beast, and the father of Innova
The spruce listens eavesdropping and the macaque echoes her moans
When I planted my roots in your sand
The winds of money almost uproot me like a poor, useless tree
And the crystal letters and idols shatter in front of you
My pens still want to pour iron ink
But it melts before your black eyes
And the sun that promised me warmth
The sun did not come in the snow forests when my lips froze
Now its fire sparks anger in the faces of strangers
They stay on the post office docks
As I lay beside the wounds, I mumbled to her that she was coming
When the wind sweeps away its frivolous dust
And its tree, which showed me its thorns after it put poison in my skin and withdrew
And you don't care about me
As I drag my feet and push my chest toward your celestial constellation
The oath that did not come close to you reached my heart
It split and fell on dry land
I can't stand the time and rearrange my poems
And the sails of the wind are extended and do not push my boat
Because my hands are torn and the ink has cut my nails
When I was satisfied with silence
Time will take me to your usual place
And the broken echo returns to me to take the remains of my shattered wings
He does not reach me and does not leave me in silence
And the long, long term
And the thickener is in the waiting
Spread spells on his face
So that he does not miss you and leaves me in the blue of fire
In the coming winter
And when its roar murmurs in the lips and nerves
Come take his embers from my burned fingers
The remains are ash that is blown away by the wind
