Notes About The Poem
habibte = my love
boukra = tomorrow
Poem on my Website
The Village of Hardine
The Village of Hardine
The Village of the Windmill
I may do things the old way
Milling grain with windmill dreams
Slowly, that's how we caress our desires
While the windmill turns
My ears listen to the birds that sing
My village is quiet now
Love letters left here long ago
So I mill my grain, as wildflowers grow
Softly I dance inside my head
Wishing my lover, she was not dead
Habibte, my memories are for only you
I sell my grain, and pay my dues
Within my heart, is only, only you
Droughts and war, habibte our love stronger still
Holding you, now a silly illusion
Back then so soft and so true
Our love
Torn from our grasp
Dream of me habibte
I know you are high above
Dream of me
Soon I will hold your angel wings
No wars or evils shall keep us apart
I mill my grain on this dreary day
Knowing soon, we shall both fly up and away
Love has escaped us here on earth
The seventh day I sit by your grave
I sing you songs as you did to me
Oh habibte, let death bring me to thee
I sigh each time at your vision of splendor
Let Kassab make us this miracle
Love has patience, habibte
Wait for me
As I wait for you
Kisses forever, boukra
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