منزوفة الخمسين

When you descended like this into my courtyard

You reminded me of that whiteness within me

And the darkness on the faces of those passing by my soul

And the purity of a heart that whenever it remembers

Their memories, it weeps for the doves of the grove

Oh, I wish I had learned the language of their betrayal

And donned the cloak of concealment as my disguise

Fifty, is there an age that can cover my shame

And dye the depth of sadness with my confession?!

I have given this poetry the right to condemn me

I have stripped myself bare as I wore my clarity

And I remained behind the departed a tale

Of helplessness, after ambition and aspiration

And I have reaped, it was not reaped upon me; because I

Secured from those who stripped away the peace of the soul