Above the gables and the lamps a hunter’s moon this winter,
clear as a lightbulb or a polished spoon this winter.
Awake at five, awake at six, awake at seven
the light is gone, and not returning soon this winter.
Spit in a cup, hold out your arm for the needle,
blow out hard as you can into a balloon this winter.
“To write a sonnet is a fascist act” –
Suggest that to the next tyre-burning goon this winter!
The slave girl stole the king’s mare and rode away –
write her أبيات, her canticle, her rune, this winter.
After you left, I didn’t know for the last time,
I listened to an exile play qanoun this winter.
Acedia, bronchitis, despair, nostalgia –
diseases to which I’m not immune this winter.
Oh, weren’t we once gallant and outrageous ?
Now we trade ailments on the phone, ya Mimijune, this winter.
Let’s say that the beloved’s name is Shams
For it is Shams I am بدون . this winter.