Poems

Sympathy

That who whistles and says, it wounds me/
In your presence, I keep my eyes wide-opened
And I close my mouth
I preserve your absent secret

(..your mouth, full of desire
Your eyes overflowing with kindness
Your trembling body as it invites...)

The first who describes life wounds me
So I desire you every afternoon
To spare you the evening

You, you...
You are most deserving of my faith!

 

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Comments (1)

الصیهور

This is something wondrous….

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