Everything seems so vain to me nowadays, so light, so
thin
Slowly, I give up my old dreams,
as the women of Carthage
let their veils fall at the Moon’s threshold.
The past days and the lost loves move away.
I thought I would never be able to forget, but nevertheless…
I have forgotten.
The suffering has become dune. A desert separates me from Eden.
I will never go back there.
What is the use of still dreaming
of the fresh grass, of the blue shade, of the celestial sources;
of the foliages half-opened over the ripe pomegranate, gleaming like a carbuncle.

Today, I dug the soil, and I let
the hope of a tree in it.
Then, I made the bed
where my husband will go and lay down.
He says that my lips are fresh, my kisses are blue and my voice is celestial.
He says that between my thighs, the most delicious fruit is gleaming.
Little by little, his caresses fade away
the traces of the one who created me.
Each new day erodes me.
Grain by grain I roll on the dune’s back
harnessed with gold like the Sultan’s mares.

I have decided to stay here.

In my garden, a stars bush has bloomed.