What tortures me the most in your love, Is that I can not love you more than this, What bothers me most in the five senses, Is that they remained five .. No more, An extraordinary woman, like you, Needs extraordinary senses, And extraordinary longings, And extraordinary tears, And a fourth religion, With its teachings, rituals, and its hell and heaven. An exceptional woman like you, Needs some books written to her alone, And a grief for her alone, And a death for her alone And time of millions of rooms, To live in by herself, But Ô misery, I can not knead the seconds, In the form of rings to put in your fingers, Because the year is governed by its months, And the months are governed by their weeks, And the weeks by their days, And my days are governed by the succession of day and night, In your purple eyes. — Nizar Qabbani
Posted on: Fri, 23 Aug 2013 00:17:23 +0000
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