I will engrave my secrets on your body

and those testified to me by the sun, I will stamp

and those sung to me by the birds, I will paint

I will not behold the light as threads of darkness

I will only travel on the feathers of nightingales

No more tears turned to mist in the wind

no more sadness in the valleys of thought

no more souls lost in the feeble rime of sunrise

no more veins on iron screens…

For I come from rains and hurricanes

a fugitive from thirsty wells

disembarked from hypocritical lips

and I came to reap the fruits of our own love.