Beauty Of Misurata Poem by Alaa Elgadi

Oh Allah! What is this perfection! ,
Am I in front of a garden in a fiction? .
About her rosy cheeks,
Phoenicia speaks.
Inside her eyes,
Granada gets back its rise.
On her pink lips,
Venice takes the wine sips.
Among her eyelashes,
London's night flashes.
For her white scarf and its threads,
Damascus's jasmine trees node their heads.
In her presence,
Paris sprays its essence.
Oh Allah! What is that charm! ,
Is it because, she and Misurata are arm in arm? .