Lovers’ Day

Beside the bazaar, our meeting place. Evening after evening, we head that way each from a world that, step by step, is left behind us. With all the words that, step by step, turned into an incomprehensible murmur - behind us. I see you: you pass through the crowd through the throng of buyers of goods. The distant sun shines on you: among the white strands of your hair the setting sun shines. Purple shines on your forehead. In your face, the setting of this sun is different a different evening. The last steps are near you come faster I run toward you with breaths broken, broken - each of us - a smile blooms on our lips. The lost smile has come back. I take your hands I press them with the strength of all my veins: veins that have grown warm. With the strength of my cold, frozen heart that has come alive. The wind swirls around my headscarf tousles my black hair. Tomorrow’s dawn laughs at me in your face. We pass by the bazaar. My breast - under my robe - is a tray of wheat that has sprouted green. We have left - now - the bazaar behind: the stony ground is level beneath my feet: the hands of my night are in the hands of your day ...