At fifteen you had the radiance of early morning, at twenty you will begin to have the melancholy brilliance of the moon.
On Wednesday it rained, and I thought of you.
On Thursday it poured, and somehow you didn’t cross my mind.
On Friday the sun came out for an hour, and I cried myself to sleep.
On Saturday it misted, and I woke up from a nightmare about you.
On Sunday the wind blew with a vengeance, and I pretended we never met.
It’s funny, how one can look back on a sorrow one thought one might well die of at the time, and know that one had not yet reckoned the tenth part of true grief.
مآ أجمّل أنْ تصمتْ
فيْ ؤجهْ منْ ينتظرْ منِك الخِصَام
وما أجمل أنْ تضحك
فيْ وجهْ منْ يُنتظرْ منك البكـاءْ
How beautiful is it to stay silent
When someone expects you to be enraged from them.
And how beautiful it is to laugh
When someone thinks you are going to shed tears.