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Journal d'un nomade

Journal d'un nomade

Restless, shifting, fugacious as time itself is a certain vast bulk of the population of the red brick district of the lower West Side. Homeless, they have a hundred homes. They flit from furnished room to furnished room, transients forever - transients in abode, transients in heart and mind. They sing "Home, Sweet Home" in ragtime; they carry their lares et penates in a bandbox; their vine is entwined about a picture hat; a rubber plant is their fig tree. (O. Henry)

You are so scared of the dark

Why are you so scared of the dark?

Your bones quiver as nipped by a spark

Your heart wishes it fell in eternal sleep

No friends, your depression is so deep

How bravely you struggle and fight

Bearing no weapon, heavy or light!

Your serious wounds make you fall

Alas there is none to hear your call

Mikhail Nuayma(*)

(Translated freely from Arabic into English by Omar K.)

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