The letter has left me
And retired in a corner.
It could hardly bear
The mountains of sadness
Borne by the hands of my watch.
It could hardly bear
My crazy loneliness
Nor my childhood that expanded
And turned into an endless sea
Nor my age which was nearly
Fifty disasters old.
The letter has retired in a corner
Placed his head between his hands and cried.
I also cried until my soul flowed.
I returned it to my letter.
My letter cried until its dot flowed.
I returned it to Him ….to God.

Thus, I was destined
To see my head borne by spears
Like Al-Hussain's head.
To see my body ulcerate and die
Like Job's body.
To carry on my back
Prometheus Rock
In order to exchange the madness of the homeland
By the unknown madness
And the Euphrates ash by the ash of the crippled rivers
And the joy of the Tigris by the joy of the cloud
With worn-out underwears.

It was a happy day.
During which I fetched a loaf
For my children, exiled far into dream
Without setting fire to Baghdad
Through Haulage wars
Nor killing the disarmed simple people
Through Tamer Lane wars
Now plundering female slaves
Through Genghis Khan's Wars
Without Kneeling to the Pharaoh of the Age
Without hoisting the Barbarians' flag
Without interfering in the crippled towns' wars.
A hot loaf
I baked it in the dream of the good letter
And in the heavenly dot whose stalk is stable
And whose heart is in the sky.
But the thieves were waiting for me:
Pharaoh's thieves
Haulage's thieves
Tamer Lane's thieves
Genghis Khan's thieves
The Barbarians' thieves
And the crippled towns' thieves.
They robbed me in the broad light
Cut my hand and blinded my eye
And stole my hot loaf.
Tonight, what will I say to my children?
Tonight, what will I say to my heart?
Tonight, what will I say to my letter
And my dot?