At the foot of the stone walls, I saw you kneeling there, Your heart deep in prayer, And your body worn and tired. Flowing, overflowing phrases, Lost in beautiful joys, Tearful, streaming 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 so inviting. When it rains on my land, You, haloed in light... You forget your present! In me, it rains so much, That even 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 Around the bends of paths. May your smile remain, And all our tender gestures, May they endure through the worst And through every meander... Of our fresh memories. Even though my arms are empty... My heart is not greedy, Dried up, cornered, My mind is limpid, Light as a sylph, Shining with every gleam! It drinks from the fountain, It feasts on you... It tends to its ugly Wounds, Beside a wood fire. It writes poems... It weeps 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.
