Song of the Soul

When the full blood moon drowns

in the big black ocean of sky

to break the news of coming night.

That time, my Love, that time

I rip apart my garments

and sing of my desolation.

 

When the muezzin calls- loud at night

and the faithful fall out in fright

to wash sins in the mosque of love.

That time, my Love, that time

I rip apart my garments

and sing of my desolation.

                    

When a sentry’s curious look at the gate

chains my view of your abode and I

call you to open the doors of my body.

That time, my Love, that time

I rip apart my garments

and sing of my desolation.

 

When the soothing air smells conspiracy

to drown my head in our blood

I call you while you sleep unmindful.

That time, my Love, that time

I rip apart my garments

and sing of my desolation.

 

 

When I burrow the barks of memory

in search of your lovesick eyes

and nothing but specks I gain.

That time, my Love, that time

I rip apart my garments

and sing of my desolation.    

 

When the prison walls pour out the dust

of bones from my countrymen

while Death rejects me her golden turn.

That time, my Love, that time

I rip apart my garments

and sing of my desolation.