The Fugitive Poem by Abd al Wahhab Al-Bayati
The Fugitive
Rating: ★5.0
I dreamt I was a fugitive
Hiding in a forest.
The wolves in a distant country
Hounded me through black deserts and over rough hills.
My dear, our separation was torture.
I dreamt I was without a home,
Dying in an unknown city,
Dying alone, my love, without a home.
Tuesday, October 29, 2013
Topic(s) of this poem: city,home,separation
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7/29/2026 2:07:32 AM # rel_20260727T173023Z_37e450e
