The dancing beauty

The dancing beauty
By Ziad Dib Jreige
From "The nightingale and his poems of dawn"

Awaken and listen with me
Her feet at the early morn
Oh listen, as a restless bee
She rhymes the wind forlorn!

Ever since that ardent love
That parched and faded away
She has been a lonely dove
Dancing, dancing all the way

As wind plays with fire
As absence plays with love
Her dance with desire
Charms the skies above

As writers fill their pages
With war and with romance
That last through the ages
She is out there to dance

As poets roam and sing
Rhyming with a glance
The autumn and the spring
She is out there to dance

As composers in their worlds
Offer strings the chance
To chant universal odes
She is out there to dance

As sculptors and painters sigh
O’er elements in a trance
Calling the passing eye
She is out there to dance

Freeing her memories
Unto the passing breeze
Spilling her miseries
Of the old tough years

A melody, a book
A painting, a sculpture
A hearing, a look
A poem, a culture

Those who have gone
Yet still around
And those who departed
Beneath the ground

All there are out
With her to dance
In harmonious rout
In luxurious sense