Farewell Poem by Osama Aldeyasty

Her dress is beige, roses in hand,
Dimness in sight, haziness in my head.
What is the matter lovelorn strand?
I have no more hearts to shed.

How often I've told you, my poor little heart,
To leave the dreams of love for truth.
To shield yourself against Cupid's dart;
Once you're hit, no cure can soothe.

Here you come to me once again,
You come to me weary and weak,
Mourning loud her farewell's pain;
Asking me a cure to seek?

Alas my dear, too late for cure,
To break a heart is a legal crime.
Your fatal pain you should endure,
Until your sunset: the slumber of time.

Her tears define the aches of heart;
They wet her cheeks with rain of sorrow.
My love defines when we are apart,
I will not wait for tomorrow.


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