Sorrows

What longing weeps upon your eyelids
the desolation of captivity in the stillness of the nights,

and what sad anthem in your gazing eyes
for camel-drivers who lost the roads of the sands,

and what orphaned nectar upon the lips —
the poison of living in the veins of the vines...

★

I love the secret of sorrows growing clear
in a face worn out by the sorcery of the impossible,

and the lying promises that appear
as nothing but bitterness in the musings of fancy,

and the lovely glances that dwell forever in grief
and perish in yearning and questioning.