The Monk At Top Of the Mountain With A Gray Head Poem by ASHRAF ABOUL-YAZID (Ashraf Dali)

Like a runaway ibex
I was jumping between clouds
floating over fields of hope,
Hoping they make me a star
To rain down...

I come to the top of the mountain with a gray head
Where the monk was waiting
In his temple that looks like a cloud;
A turban of skyscraper.

To reach,
I crossed sixty stations
I don't remember any of them other than the worn-out names
With empty seats.

The monk asks me about what I have seen;
"Seven butterflies dancing while embracing a cocoon about to transform?
Ten roses were tears of perfume from musk and chrome?
A pond bearing the image of a bird with dragon wings?
An army of ten squirrels?
Five trees bearing apples of light?
A constellation of twenty galaxies?
An elephant raising his golden hodgepodge?
Or a frog that extended its lips to a runaway prince? "

The monk looked at a water skin that I carried
It didn't save a drop,
It was watering my lost steps
My desperate face contemplates seeing something
In a path sealed his eyes cruelty.

I had a one-way ticket;
Will he give me a ticket back to search again?