by: Dr. Adnan Bozan

What can I say to you…
Have I ever told you
that the grapes of my dreams burned
upon the spring of my tears…
and the caravans of my longing
set out toward you,
only to lose their way
between my heart and exile?

Have I ever told you
that the lament of my longing
still crosses the walls of four centuries
to reach you;
like a wound
that time has never been able to close,
like a voice
that has lost its owner,
yet still
calls out your name?

What can I say to you…
The night has pitched its tent
over my sorrows,
and sleep has fled from me
into the wilderness of exile…
until every evening
I lay my head
upon the pillow of your absence,
and wake
even emptier in your loss.

Have I ever told you
that every time I try to forget you,
the graves of memory
open inside my soul…
and you emerge from them,
alive, just as before,
leaving me behind,
one step closer to death?

Have I ever told you
that distance, since you left,
can no longer be measured in steps,
but in the number of times
I reached out my hand toward you
and you were not there?

What can I say to you…
I am afraid that departure will come
before I can whisper into your ear
the last thing I have left to say:

I love you…
more than yesterday,
more than my heart can bear,
and more than absence
could ever take away
from me…

And if there is no other road
left but departure,
come a little closer to me…
so that the warmth of your hands
may remain within mine.

Perhaps that final embrace
will become a little homeland,
one small enough
to be enough for me
when I die.