by Bilal Hamamra
Published on: Aug 2, 2008
Type: Poetry

God, what panting passions by which I am reined in.

To the oblivion of my true self they drive me.

Your love is such that storms are too weak to uproot it.

He I prize more than all earthly treasures.

With sweet sorrow Your smile fills my soul

By Your tempestuous beauty the twins of mine get divorced

My worn body fell, the soul embracing Your love flew

What would be of the fruits against Tantalus's shoulders tangled

If a wind from his open mouth a branch always drags?

What of such unfolded feelings I get

When the wine of Your lips from mine is apart?

A poem is not but a bank where I plant my feelings

And the eternity of such a sudden delivery is my sole excuse for writing.

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