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Your eyes are two palm tree forests at early dawn
Or two verandas from which the moonlight recedes
When your eyes smile, the vines put forth their leaves
And the lights dance like moons in a river
Rippled by an oar at an early down
As if the stars were pulsating in their depth
And they drown in a mist of sheer sorrow
Like the sea stroked by the hands of the evening
Containing the warmth of winter and the quiver of Autumn
And death and birth, darkness and light
A sobbing flares up to shiver in my soul and
And a ferocious elation embracing the sky
An ecstasy of a child scared by the moon
As if arches of mist were drinking the clouds
Drop by drop dissolved in the rain
And the children burst into laughter in the vineyard bowers
The rain song tickled the silence of the sparrows on trees
The evening yawned and the clouds were still
Pouring their heavy tears
As if a child, before sleeping, was raving about his mother
A year ago, he woke up and did not find her
And when he kept asking about her
He was told
After tomorrow she will be back
She must come back
Yet his companions whisper that she is there

Laying dead by the side of the hill
Eating soil and drinking rain
As if a sad fisherman was gathering nets and
Cursing the water and fate
Scattering songs as the moon sets
Do you know what sorrows the rain can prompt?
And how gutters sob when it pours down?
Do you know how lost a lonely person feels in the rain
Endlessly like bloodshed, the hungry, love, children and the
It is the rain
Your eyes take me roaming in the rain
Lightings from across the gulf sweeps
The Iraqi shores with stars and shells
As if dawn was about to break from them
As if a sun was about to rise from them
But the night pulls over a coverlet of blood
I call out on the gulf “O gulf
O bestower of pearls, shells and death”
The echo replies as if grieving:
“O gulf
O bestower of shells and death”
I almost hear Iraq massing thunder
And storing lightning in mountains and plains
In order that if the seal were broken by men
The winds would not leave any trace of Thamud in the valley
I almost hear the palm trees drinking the rain
Hear the villagers groan and the immigrants
Struggling with oar and sail
The gulf storms and thunders singing

And there is hunger in Iraq
The harvest scatters the corn inside it
The locusts and crows may eat their fill
Granaries and stones grind on and on
Mills turn in the fields surrounded by humans
How many tears we shed when the night of departing arrived
Making the rain an excuse fearing the blame
Since we were children, the sky would be clouded
in winter
And the rain would pour down
And every year, when soil becomes green
We starve
Not a year passed and Iraq has not suffered starvation
In every drop of rain
Red or yellow buds of flowers
Every tear shed by the hungry and naked
And every drop of slaves’ blood shed
Is a smile awaiting a new mouth
Or a nipple becomes rosy in an infant’s mouth
In the young world of tomorrow
Giver of life
Iraq will become green”
I call on the gulf”: O gulf
O giver of pearls, shells and death
The echo replies as if whimpering:
“O gulf
O bestower of shells and death”
The gulf scatters its plentiful gifts
On the sand: a lather of salty water and shells
And the remains of the drowned forlorn immigrant still
Drinking death
From a fathomless gulf in the silence below
In Iraq a thousand serpents drink
The nectar from a flower, the Euphrates has nurtured with
I hear the echo
Resounding in the gulf
In every drop of rain
Red or yellow buds of flowers
And each tear shed by the naked and hungry
And each drop of slave’s blood shed
Is a smile awaiting a new mouth
Or a nipple becomes rosy in an infant’s mouth
In the young world of tomorrow, giver of life”
And the rain pours down