Aslema (EN)

Aslema (hello) Reader, you should go to sleep
Come in, your eyes are getting tired of deciphering the darkness
Passion is a riyadha (sport) of combat, isn’t it?
In a montazah (park) shaded by shards of ruddy sun
I’ll wait for you until you believe I love you
The sekina (knife) of time tears the sky, my hands are already shaking
In Tunis, the disheveled trees follow each other without resembling, their branches
Caress my warm thoughts and the sweet soul of all city dwellers
The sun has the taste of a too oily zebda (butter)
It drips on my eyelids and stains my smiley (shirt) whitened by the eye of God
Traveler, ila iwara (back), ! I would die if you get hurt. Here, the cars race like crazy clouds
Take my hand, let’s spend the sahriya (evening) counting the sighs that separate us
A sound of tayara (plane) densifies the air and disperses the sweat on our asfer (yellow) eyelids
Love is a drouj (staircase) that I climb every time I drown in ink
I forgot my past, other men and the future when I met the gaze of literature
Which thniya (path) leads to true love? Which path covered with stones,
Can we be together without fear of getting lost?
Here the edge of the road is strewn with splinters wardi (pink),
A bird falls asleep on a newspaper
It is night in Tunis.

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