A False Step Poem by Buland Al-Haidari

Winter's sharp blade cut into the platform,
The storm miaowed like A cat,
Over the rails
Swung an ancient lamp,
And our frugal village
Quivered in its light.
''what will I do in the city?''
She asked me:
'What will you do in the city?
Down its long streets
Your ignorant steps will go astray
And its blind alleys
Will swallow you up.
Night will glow in your heart's numbed depths,
And sad longings spring up.
What will you do there, without a friend?
No, there's no friend to be found in a city.''
You laughed at me,
And still I waited for the citybound train.
You walked away from me,
And I from you.
Beyond the windows of the train,
Villages passed by,
Rose up and sank back in the sand,
And I waited for morning
In the city.
For shom should I return?
For my village?
For winter's sharp blade that cut into the platform?
The in which our frugal village quivered?
Or the women dead with modesty and shame?
No, I shall not return.
For whom should I return?
My village is become a city.
At every corner,
A new lamp's harsh light
Will cry out to me:
''What do I wish?''
What do I wish?!
Here, there is nothing I know,
And nothing that knows me;
Notjing I remember,
Or that remembers me.
I shall grag my shot steps
Down the long streets,
And be swallowed up
In the blind alleys.
No, I shall not return.
For whom should I return?
My village is become a city.