Sometimes when the night falls from the sky
and the clouds hid the pale moon,
and the silence settles in and out,
dreams wake up from the deep
and the memories of a starry night
back home bring about
the laughter of the neighbours
who played backgammon through the night
and the thunder of the music flew faraway,
and then the moezen chanted
from the minaret of the mosque nearby,
to invite the believers in,
unaware that non is left in town.
Should I return home one day,
what would have remained of the dreamy picture
I keep in the deep?
The reality of nothingness and the happiness
which went aflame in the chaos of confusion?
Or a town I know nothing of?