By Kinan Aldaioub (IRO)

If I looked at you, I have already written my poem on your face
Yet they could not make it more beautiful than it is
And if I heard your voice
I desire for the silence of forever
So that only it can echo inside me
…
You sat on the edge of the moon
And smiled at me nightly
And daily, when you’re invisible
I smiled at the thought of you
Sudden, a butterfly comes to home on my hands
I imagine it is a part of your soul
And I whisper to it the most beautiful story
The story of your face
It has a tragic ending, this story
When it leaves my runway palms
I imagine the flower it will adorn
Is your heart, of nectar
I grazed the bluebells with my hands
And imagined they were your hands
I played in the calm and crazy waters
And imagined they were your hairs
I went to live with the clouds
And imagined they were your chest
I imagined so much
I had written a poem on the skin of nature
Each word I spoke, left me like
A dew on a plant
Or a raindrop on an old building
As if each word were a tear I lamented
But these words did not come back to me
And instead, left me alone
I remained, without nature, without words
Without love
I imagined love, but could not
I don’t know its taste, nor its smell
And this is the tragedy