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At the end of the night
Written and translated by Sayed
Gouda
Maybe the one who came scurrying at the end of the night
To knock on our doors, humble
Begging for a piece of bread
A mouthful of water
And a woolen shawl
Protecting him from the biting of cold
Was none but a jinni
Carrying in his pocket
The spell of our next curse.
Maybe the one who came at the end of the night
Was like a windstorm
Coming to warn us of birds
That will carry us
To a far away land
Far away
In which the present souls are absent
The absent ones are present
And the bewildered cry at its door.
Maybe the one who came at the end of the night
Was none but him
Came to laugh at my pride
Came to announce that soon
I will roam the streets alone
To knock on the door of a stranger
Begging for a piece of bread
A mouthful of water
And a woolen shawl
On one of the winter's nights.
Maybe the one who came to us
-In spite of disguising-
Was me!
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