there is a way for salvation

without needing the barbarians

or the officer

whose neck is long.

If you manage to sneak from the corridor's frame

before its ultimate fall

you will save your skull from damage

and the serious thing is that

you will not be accountable by the law

for the loss of the book of family matters.

The horse knows

that replacing a collection of stories

by four wooden cracked wheels

is a joke

so

the analysts believe that

moving the table

a millimeter a day

from its original place

is normal

so long as the universe is shrinking

and the black around our eyes

is widening

particularly that

the criminal has escaped the punishment

after he had hidden Reem in his pocket.

The fatigued

can sleep

in the balcony of the white house

or explode.

And we can

stop reading

until the brass plates melt

in our eyelids stretched

to the moon.

We

-who are not good in calculating-

can pass the time

watching TV

and checking Arabic dictionaries

Na'ata ... Naetun ... Naoot

Nasara ... Nasserun ... Nasiryyoon

Reem: a little deer.

The man

who crawled on his stomach down form the bridge

still fears the lifts.

The neighbours

are still in the balconies

chitchatting about women and men,

and the broke-down computer

is still down.

The maid

feeds the dog rice and meat

and Omar

is still silent

if he speaks

the barberians will arrive

and the poem will finish.

We'are happy

because we have eyes

that do not make us wonder

at him who desires more

for we have other bets

and necessities.

Don't say

"By God, I'm beat!"

We need to follow the path of the sea gulls

disappearing in the horizon,

to observe their swimming shadows

on the blue surface

where a bottle

in which there is a paper

waiting for our arrival

as we wait for the their arrival.

As for Reem,

she is sick no longer

Iraq is gone

and the man hung his trousers on the cloth line

after he had wrung it out well