366 - Amir Taj al-Sir

What exhausted me the most, in the clinging of Columbus and his wife to me, is that I no longer find time to try to guess you, and whenever I sit sluggish and sleepless, to revive you as I want, and weave love's intrigues and misfortunes, and its losses and victories, I am surprised by my neighbours, gluttonous and wide-smiling, who amuse themselves with the shame of my house, The woman opens my wardrobe inappropriately, and closes it, makes my bed according to her taste, washes dishes for food, which she may have left dirty, bends down to sweep my room and my narrow hall, cooks for me what she thinks I prefer, and I don't really taste much of it, and I pay attention to her crazy panting, and I beg her to stop and not stop And the husband, reclining on my pillow, that which I embroidered with my tears and the riles of love that I poured, long days, rolls his banjo, in transparencies, and smokes, so that the passing of an ordinary mosquito by his nose, or the sight of a fly caught in a cobweb on the wall, makes him laugh. The limit of tears, and the passing sounds of the road, from screams, insults, and soliloquy, cause him a strange reaction, jumping after him from his reclining, running, and joining the igniters of the sounds of the road. And when he sits in the corner of the lectures of life, at the beginning of the evening, and fills the space occupied by the night, with his resonant voice, dizzy from the effects of the drug, I breathe deeply, I wish that the whole day had been imaginary and trivial lectures, so that I could spend it myself in my lush and clean fantasies.

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