O I resent the heat of summer,
on still days silent the sun would sit.
As if the gates of hell are ajar,
where great mighty fires are lit.
Hard the earths surface shall bake,
with no boredom nor pause nor break.


Across the horizon the mighty sun shall set
and into oblivion its rays will sink,
reddish its colours reflect,
no longer golden nor vibrant nor pink.
Icy refreshments fail to quench my fire,
nor will any abundance of drink.


Under the summer skies I lay bewildered
as gleaming stars garnish the nights,
bright the celestial beauty lingers
in every language poetry recites.
Too far away my thoughts wander but sweet dreams bring me delight.


Swiftly darkness fades away
as night bids the moon farewell,
glorious the eye of heaven shall rise,
on living minds casting a spell.
Roses do weep on hot summer mornings forever wishing in shades they dwell.


Saleh Ben Saleh