Awni Alkhatib Poems

The nearest exile
Torture is the remembrance of that day
Happiness is the remembrance of that day
When replying to my only gem of Mud
...

I visited an exotic queer place
Where blue with green come into one face
Where a branch changes into a stem
and beauty reaches the rim
...

Up the hill, a serene treasure to reap
murmuring brooks and jingling bells of sheep
Up the hill, sure there is a serene rite
Everyday sure there is a wealthy sight
...