من ينسى حزنه سريعايبكي لأسباب يجهلها

You blow like a wind,And I swing numb,Like an autumn leaf.

They stripped you off your colours;those that you spent your childhood mixing themto draw birds and butterflies.They dipped your wings/dreams in mud.Then they piled them on your shoulders until you metamorphosed into a terrible octopus.Whenever you got rid of one arm, another one smothered you.Now, you no longer dream of flying.

قلق على السريرو ليل يأتي بالضجر المُعلقعلى رف الكتبكيف أفسر للذي يغيب عن قتليلماذا لا أموت حية الآن؟

You are a wind,And since I am a tree,How can I calm down?

Only the raindrops Which falling on your shoulders,Know my thirst.

You are not dead nor alive.Each new morning you take your way between the crowd,but you never wonder where that creature who carried a lampThroughout the night to illuminate the road evaporates.

No one knew that fangs you showed in a gloomy way to snatch a loaf of bread from the jaws of crocodiles and to lick a drop of water from springs guarded by snakeswere before a few hours anything but a faint light creeping from between your lips into darkness.No one knew how you spent your night removing shards of glass stuck in your feet after a piece fell from the mirror of your dreams and shattered on the asphalt without your attention...

The distance from my room to your city is full of risks.I don't know how I repeatedly survived it...