For love did once reside inside, but now, she postures as a retired irrigation dig...
...capable of transporting love, but weathered, left only with the marks of love's erosiveness...
...and since, dried from drought.
Khamrat il 7ub, bloat my mind with delirium
For love did once fill my cells with dreams and hope, but now, they pray for Alzheimer's...
...capable of thinking objectively about love, but still biased, making du3a for blissful amnesia...
...wanting to revert to a state of "never knew, never know."
Khamrat il 7ub, stoop my posture with reticence...
For love did once straighten and strengthen my spine with confidence and glee, but now, she aches and pleads for support from those she is obliged to carry...
...capable of enduring love, but herniated, preferring to slouch and tilt down...
...so as to avoid coming eye-to-eye with love again.
Khamrat il 7ub, overflow your chalice and drench my pores with your beads--leave no room for love's return.
***
Inspired by "Khamrat il 7ub" as sung by Hani Metwasi, originally performed by Saba7 Fakhri.
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