At the foot of the stone walls, I saw you kneeling, Your heart deep in prayer, And your body weary. Flowing, overflowing phrases, Lost in beautiful joys, Tearful tears, Memories of alleyways... In the arms of a lover... How beautiful life seems, In the land of the Levant! Skin browned by the sun, Of those women of old. When it rains on my land, Your places are inviting. When it rains on my land, You, haloed in light... You forget your present! In me, it rains so much, That the greatest deserts, And their swirling winds, Are not vast enough To hide my misery! I must understand now That words are NOTHING. I have finished waiting for you At the bends of the roads. May your smile remain, And all our tender gestures, May they endure in the worst And in all the meanders... Of our fresh memories. Even though my arms are empty... My heart is not greedy, Dried up, at bay, My mind is limpid, Light as a sylph, Shining with every gleam! It drinks from the fountain, It feasts on you... It heals its ugly Wounds, By a wood fire. It writes poems... It cries sometimes, It burns its novenas, That it once said for you, It feels the breeze everywhere, On these candles placed At the doors of those churches That you made me love.
