I and You

The ink of your red heart Sips the flowers, Besieges the olive In the iris of the eyes, Flirts the tunes Hugs the minarets, And complains to the night The sighs of sadness, And you are a dream Asleep in its silence Under the eyelids … Has the evening glow of passion Found no sleep Under your eyelashes, And have not been wounded the eyelashes By the tears of rain-laden clouds? Who are you? I will ask the rhyme About you, and the arts, And the demon of sorrows, Are you a lost letter? In the lexicon of the centuries? Or are you the beginning For the revolution of madness? Your imagination is a cloud In the darkness of the eyes And your soul is a talisman Jailed in my ring… And my compassionate boat Don’t ask me who I am? Nor suppose my silence is jest, I am the silent call And a sigh in the last tunes, And a silver tear On your cheek Flows in rapture… My planet is premonitions And my world is doubts, And my whisper is poems Their title …is none, And my kiss is sacred, Granddaughter of the boughes… So who am I? And who will I be? My story is a legend Inscribed in silence…