Muwashah Hayawat, composed by: Osama Abu Hawas

I could not - not once - grasp the concept of time, I do not know how much has passed, nor do I know how much is passing; I have been like this since I knew myself, I am a fourth hand wandering between minutes and hours, I have strayed to the point that my center does not intersect with the other hands at all, neither my wheel qualifies me to catch up with seconds, nor my patience enables me to keep pace with hours! I do not really understand what it means for days to pass for you, so I console your passion with a word that tells you about some of my state, for me all my days are echoes that still reverberate and echo until eternity; whether their noise rises or diminishes, they are all identical! I do not know where I started, nor how I came, nor do I have any known origin, to the point that the ladies of Paris weave strange stories about me for their children to sleep, sometimes I am a descendant of the Bourbons, who were overthrown by the revolution and went mad, and sometimes I am possessed by the spirits of the Umayyads, who invaded the Turs Valley a thousand years ago!