Depart not,
Solitude but thorns;
Blaze and blades so sharp.
The desolate dark in the room
suffocates like siege,
Like soldiers.
Depart not,
You, bird of Paradise,
Gracefully green
Whenever fly towards me
The land grows
And districts turn into orchards,
Fragrance,
Butterflies,
Palm trees and roses.
Stay,
Coffee on fire so hot
In await
My baskets loaded with fruits,
Dates and sweets.
Grandmother’s morning’s invention,
Intimate talks, companions and a poet.
Grandma,
Comfort me,
Pat my shoulder,
And hand on my head gently,
To blossom pride and dignity.
Cover me,
And bestow, like a crown upon me, your warm wisdom
Then rise, so the sun bestows those Braids
Have mercy,
Melt child’s docility in me,
To deluge history with bravery,
Pride and deeds.
Then say, “O. Beloved”, and reiterate,
Days dress up with poems so sweet
And feelings so warm.
In your palms,
I see my life, but lights,
I draw my path,
Joyful lines and circles;
O. Grandma,
In your shrine I pray,
Upon your head, lovingly,
I lean head
And ever towards your eyes
I travel.
