Your love taught me how to grieve
while I have been in need, for centuries,
for a woman to make me grieve
and cry upon her arms
like a sparrow...
for a woman to gather my pieces
like clusters of broken crystal..
Your love taught me, my lady, the worst habits.
It taught me to foresee my coffee- cup
thousands of times a night
to experience the medicine of herbalists.
And knock on the doors of the fortune tellers.
It taught me to come out of my house,
To comb the sidewalks,
and chase your face in the raindrops,
in the lights of cars
In the unknown apparels
And even to run after your spectrum
in the posters of advertisements
And gather millions of stars from your eyes
Your love taught me
to wander around, for hours
searching for a gypsy hair
envied by all gypsies
Searching for a face, for a voice
which are all the faces and all the voices...
Your love made me enter, my lady,
into the cities of grief
while I have never entered
the cities of grief before
I never know
that tears are a person
and a person without grief
is only a reminiscence of a person...
Your love taught me
to behave like teenagers
to draw your face with chalk
upon the walls
upon the sails of fishermen\'s boats
on the Churchâ??s bells, on the crucifixes,
Your love taught me how love may
change the map of time...
Your love taught me, that when I fall in love
the earth will stop revolving...
Your love taught me things
that were never occurred to me..
Thus I read children\'s fairytales
Entered the palaces of the Jennies kings
And dreamt to be wedded with the Sultan\'s daughter...
those eyes are more apparent
than the water of a lagoon
those lips...
more luscious than the flower of pomegranates
and I dreamt that I kidnapped her like a knight
And dreamt I gave
her the garlands of pearl and coral stones
your love taught me, my lady,
What hallucination might be...
It taught me how life may surpass
Without the coming of the Sultan\'s daughter...
Your love taught me...to seek refuge
to seek refuge in hotels without names
in churches without names...
in cafes without names...
Your love taught me how night
can proliferate the grief of strangers.
It taught me how to behold Beirut
a woman, a tyrant of temptation
a woman, wearing every evening
the most beautiful clothing she possesses
and sprinkling perfume upon her breasts
For the fisherman, and the princes.
Your love taught me how to cry without account
It taught me how grief slumbers
like a boy with his feet cut off
In the streets of Rouche and Hamra
Your love taught me how to grieve
and I have been in need, for centuries
a woman to make me grieve,
For a woman, to cry upon her arms
like a sparrow
for a woman to gather my pieces
like clusters of broken crystal...
