The Village Poet

post 162/365

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Why did Mirsal leave her letters here, between my hands?  Uprooting her from her existence just like the poplar trees shed their yellow leaves to end a precarious phase of time’s chapter. And time passes, and it keeps going, and I see its footprints on top of these yellow worn-out pages…

(Translated from Tyour Ayloul, I did not do justice to the text but that’s the best I could do)

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