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My Work - PoetryThe Island of the CrowsAnd suddenly I find myself in the middle of an island....Desolate ... barren ... abandoned Not one human around. It is inhabited only by ghosts and ghouls, Not one stream of water to quench the thirst Or soothe the ears with the music of its trickle. Not one nightingale singing... No sound except the caw of the crows And the howling of the wolves. No fragrance ... no music ... no colours No shade of trees ... no branches, Only dried-up, broken stumps From which sorrows droop And in which grief nests. Not a single inhabited spot Melancholy is camping everywhere And salt water surrounds me on every side, And around me the big, sturdy sharks writhe. They eye me and snarl They open their jaws as though they were starved. O my soul! How wasted are you in this hole With the years crushed between the hellish hammer and the evil anvil! Dubai, 1980 |
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