My Problem Poem by hazem al jaber

My problem
When you set out
You carry every thing with you
You carry the perfume any where
The morning glories which I light it measure an evening
and a sun and every star saw you,
and i become alone
I complain about a wound in my chest
and saddles.
The saddles are when
She wa the path which I make it walk
you was a gravel down In the way
you was with me where I play
and was every where i be
and became tired and appeared by the night slumbers
and was my dona evry thing sweet
so you are every thing
and any thing! !
You know?
That is my problem
That you don`t know! ! ?