Your love taught me to grieveand I have been in need, for centuriesa woman to make me grievefor a woman, to cry upon her armslike a sparrowfor a woman to gather my pieceslike shards of broken
Your love has taught me, my lady, the worst habitsit has taught me to read my coffee cupsthousands of times a nightto experiment with alchemy,to visit fortune
It has taught me to leave my houseto comb the sidewalksand search your face in raindropsand in car lightsand to peruse your clothesin the clothes of unknownsand to search for your imageeven…..even…..even in the posters of advertisementsyour love has taught meto wander around, for hourssearching for a gypsies hairthat all gypsies women will envysearching for a face, for a voicewhich is all the faces and all the voices…Your love entered me…my ladyinto the cities of sadnessand I before you, never enteredthe cities of sadnessI did not know…that tears are the personthat a person without sadnessis only a shadow of a person…Your love taught meto behave like a boyto draw your face with chalkupon the wallupon the sails of fishermen's boatson the Church bells, on the crucifixes,your love taught me, how love,changes the map of time…Your love taught me, that when I lovethe earth stops revolving,
Your love taught me thingsthat were never accounted for So I read children's fairytalesI entered the castles of Jenniesand I dreamt that she would marry methe Sultan's daughterthose eyes..clearer than the water of a lagoonthose lips…more desirable than the flower of pomegranatesand I dreamt that I would kidnap her like a knight and I dreamt that I would giveher necklaces of pearl and
Your love taught me, my lady,what is insanityit taught me…how life may passwithout the Sultan's daughter
Your love taught
How to love you in all thingsin a bare winter tree,in dry yellow leavesin the rain, in a tempest,in the smallest cafe, we drank in,in the evenings…our black
Your love taught me…to seek refugeto seek refuge in hotels without namesin churches without names…in cafes without names…Your love taught me…how the nightswells the sadness of
It taught me…how to see Beirut as a woman…a tyrant of temptationas a woman, wearing every eveningthe most beautiful clothing she possessesand sprinkling upon her breasts perfumefor the fisherman, and the
Your love taught me how to cry without
It taught me how sadness
Like a boy with his feet cut offin the streets of the Rouche and the
Your love taught me to grieveand I have been needing, for centuriesa woman to make me grievefor a woman, to cry upon her armslike a sparrowfor a woman to gather my pieceslike shards of broken crystal
