Classic Poem

I look for her arms
for her purity amidst questions and answers
I walk in the alleyways where children draw
with coal and almonds on the walls
fish-shaped stars
cloudlike words
At the end of the line she stood watching me
I approached like Solomon's hoopoe-bird
— Where are you going, Mujanar?
— To the sea, as close to me
as a mother's milk-rich breast
— And what is its color?
— The laughter of bedouin coffee
— Mujanar?! Perhaps we will meet again
— When you shall speak out!
And she bade me no farewell.