Every morning,
I cast my nets into the river.
Every evening,
...
to you what you wish from the sky
the wind is your home
the clouds are the call of your dream
wherever you fly
...
There used to be some broken steps
in the house long ago.
i played on them when i was small.
How often i slid on the banister in innocent play!
...
Maybe the one who came scurrying
at the end of the night
to knock on our door, humble,
begging for a piece of bread,
...
When i came home in the evening,
the house was a well,
a dwelling for the wind,
that is chained and humble.
...
They crucified him at dawn.
Before sunrise,
his soul was fluttering among the clouds.
They left him days and days,
...
You stand at the door gate,
like a sparrow in the evening,
waiting for its morning's partner to return.
i see in your eyes the waiting of grass for the rain
...
Something here,
dimly lit,
calling me.
Enchanted, i walk for it
...
My great grandfather
orders me not to stay awake late,
not to loiter at the street corner
waiting for ‘Dunya',
...