Crossing The Desolate Valley Poem by Fadhil Al Azzawi

This desolate valley is crowded with thieves
But I cross it alone.
I am afraid of no one
For I have no gold or silver in my saddle.
This desolate valley stretches before me
Dotted with stones that gleam like mirrors in the sun.
I drag my mules behind me
And sing happily to myself.
I n this valley rain pours down.
There is no cave to shelter me
And I don't own a tent.
If the flood comes and the levy breaks
Who will save me in his swinging boat?
I go on nonetheless, holding in my fist my heart's ember.
I set my fire to the world's wood
And sit with ghosts that dine at my table.
I cross this valley alone
And let the wind blow behind me.