Some small trees blow under a light pulp, each night
Everyone is there at day,
But not everyday,
I, stand there at night,
Everyday.
When shall i, stand not alone there?
Is there an angel,
Behind this feeling of the wind breeze?
Did my bird migration,
Miss my turn 26 times until now?
Or did i miss it,
By trying to look for a homeland?
I hope it could be all blamed on the weather,
Or the times, if so.
Most of my friends are artists,
Who could draw,
But well, they can’t draw anymore,
Is it all because of the times?
Everything seems to be doomed,
When no one is able to read,
All the books he crave,
And everything seems to be doomed,
When you look at all the cities, with no dove.
Still i sense a white hope in my heart,
Every morning when i turn on my bike,
Without knowing where to go,
God, are you there?
zaki monzer 