Treasure Island

Ali Mahmoud Taha

(1902-1949 / Egypt / Mansoura)

A Rustic Song


When the water caresses the shade of the tree,
And the clouds court the light of the moon,
And the birds send forth their song
To re-echo between dew and blossom;
And the ringdove laments her passion,
Cooing to her love and breeze pass over the Nile,
Kissing every passing sail;
And the earth brings forth from its night
Beauties of manifold shape;
And when a willow stands in the darkness,
Hidden as if unknown to night
There in its shade I take my place,
With heart distraught and saddened gaze.
I let my eyes wander through the skies,
My head downcast and sunk in thought.
Then, I see your face beneath the palm tree,
And by the river I hear your voice,
Until darkness is tired of my loneliness,
And sadness complains of boredom;
Until creation wonders at my bewilderment,
And the morningstar takes pity on me;
And I go on my way, to search again in hope
For our encounter at the longed-for hour.

Submitted: Saturday, May 10, 2014
Edited: Saturday, May 10, 2014

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