End of the Stairs by Iraqi poet, Nazik Al-Mala'ikah (my translation):
"Extinguished days have passed
We have not met,
we have not been united
not even by a shadow of a mirage
And I am alone,
feeding on the sound of
steps of darkness
Behind the rough glass
of the window,
behind the door
And I am alone...
Days have passed
Cold, crawling, dragging
my suspicious boredom
crawling lazily behind the door
And I listen and count its
nervous minutes
Did time pass by us?
Or have we plunged into
No Time?
and drowned in the tide of illusions
Days have passed
Days burdened by my longing.
Where am I?
I am still stairing at the stairs
And the stairs start, but where
is the end?
It starts in my heart, where
there is wilderness and its darkness
It starts. Where is the vague door?
Door of the stairs?
Days have passed.
We have not met, you are there
behind the zone of dreams
in a horizon surrounded by unknown
And I walk, and see, and sleep
I expire my days, and drag
my honey-laced future
So it flees to a missing past
My days are consumed with sighs,
when will they return?
Days have passed, and you have not
remembered that there is there
in a corner of your heart
is deserted love
Bitten in its feet by thorns
Love bowing, frightened
Assume it is light
Return. Part of a meeting
giving us wings to travel through night
there is space
behind the surrounding forests
there are seas...
Return, or will it die?
My voice in your hearing
behind the despised crooked alley
And I remain distracted in the heart
of forgetfulness
Nothing but extended silence
over sadness
Nothing but sleepy echo
whispering in my ear
he will not return
No. Will not return."