You became wild, you became a street cat!
Did you not fly around my heart like a nightingale?
No longer is your beauty a revelation,
Your face no longer a place of worship.
Your former tenderness grew coarse,
What were your fineries, became torn…
How can your beauty betray itself,
How can wine turn to quinine?
I’m afraid for you – decorated with jewelry –
And now you’ve become like a gypsy
Prostituting herself.
An existentialist cat roaming the streets at night –
But who’s still dreaming of you?
– nizar qabbani
I'm sad that you're no longer posting. I hope that you are alive and well, and that you will return to your blog.
ReplyDeleteI got this poem from the book Cairo of Cairo, where it was listed as though part of a poem. Do you know if this is true?