Nights and Tales 

By Hamdan Dammag


My head is overflowing

With nights and tales

And with black thoughts.


My vision is raided

By a whirlwind of times sand 

And the sobbing of a rabid brain. 


My memory is churning the summers illusions

And the farce of whims and wills.


I hear the footpaths of sorrow rumbling in my ears  

And the whistles of the trains of exile whispering: 

Hey you! Traveller in the port of the dreams

Fiddling with the strings of desire

Do not play with colours!

Lest your fingers be burnt by amazement

And the ladies fill your head with mysteries.




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