I love every bit of life.
I collect the breath of my skin in the golden cup,
like a ray of eternal light.
I do not let anyone take away
my dream in the movement of divine waves.
It is my life,
in the bed of my fate.
The echo of insidious games, mystical premonition.
I have a feeling that
the midnight wind is my guide in my steps of life.
Do not tire in vain, you scoundrels,
devouring the quiet midnights,
when the moon sleeps for a moment and the world is covered by black yew.
Forget about harming the newly blossomed rose,
it has strong, irritating thorns that pierce it.
Someone protects me from above.
He is the guardian of my life,
he is my God.
Poem by Sherife Allko
