"Reem" won't come back for the coachman is dead and the horse is contemplating the new situation. *** So ponder on your own life There is a way for salvation without needing the Barbarians or the officer whose neck is long. *** If you manage to sneak from the Hall's portrait frame before its definite fall You will save your skull from crushing and the most serious thing is that you will not be accountable legally for losing the book of the family archive. *** The horse knows that replacing a collection of stories by four wooden cracked wheels is a joke, since the analysts have proved that the movement of the table a millimeter a day from its original place is normal as long as the universe is shrinking and the black circles around our eyes is widening especially that the criminal had fled the police after hiding "Reem" in his pocket. *** The fatigued people can fall asleep in the balcony of the White House or they can explode. *** And we, can stop reading until the brass plates melt round our eyelids that stretched to the moon. *** We -who are not good in calculating- can pass the time watching TV and checking Arabic dictionaries Na'ata ... Na'etun ... Naoot Nasara ... Nasserun ... Nasiryyoon Reem: a little deer. *** The man, who crawled on his stomach down form the bridge still fears the lifts, The neighbours are still in the balconies chitchatting about women and men, and the broke-down computer is still down, when the maid is feeding the dog rice and meat for Omar is still voiceless if he speaks the Barbarians would arrive and the poem would end. *** We're pleased because we have eyes so we never wonder at him who desires longer living yet we have other bets and necessities. *** Don't say "By God, I'm beat!" We need to follow the path of the sea gull And when disappearing from the horizon, we observe its swimming shadow on the blue surface, where a bottle whose a paper inside is waiting for our arrival as we wait for the arrival of the comers. *** As for "Reem", she is no longer sick for Iraq has gone and the man hung his shirt on the clothesline after he'd perfectly wrung it out from her residues. *********** © Translated by Sayed Gouda