1 At forty years old In the fortieth year I sat at the door of a dream. The dream was as lean as a lost date As good as Bedouin fire. The playing cards were showing its picture With or without a crown In a formal uniform or with ‘iqal* on head. I became aware of its silence. I wept for its pearly tenderness. 2 At the fortieth shout I said: Dream, whose picture is shown by the playing cards On the right and the left On the left and the right, How much we have missed your kindness. How much we have missed your riding The horses and the evenings Asking after us we the undated letters And the futureless dots And the meaningless future And the meaning that leads us ferociously To the death arena. 3 On the fortieth night My shout fell down. So I collected its fragmented glass with my wounded tongue. The shout was drawn by freedom. The shout was childish like water. I said: You, whose thin picture is shown by time cards Up and down Down and up, How do I deplore your royal forehead? I who made the tragedy by my blood And by the flight from the fake lion that ate my liver. 4 In the fortieth treasure The suns shrank and everything vanished. The river Tigris was not drawn with ink Nor with blood Nor with anything As if Tigris had never existed. I wondered at my cowardliness And at the confusion of my tales. But your treasure – treasure of history – is more wonderful And your tale – tale of the depressed – is more complete. 5 At the fortieth stab I sat near your tree: the fig tree and said: Tree of the one whose picture is shown by trees Time and again, I am now near you in the capitals of hunger. I pray God to make you fruitful So that I may be satiated And to supply you with water So that I may satisfy my thirst And to invoke you to write So that I may write my song for the dream Whose picture is shown by dust As good as a lost date As lean as a Bedouin fire. 6 At the fortieth door The dream had no interest in my shouts and death rattles Nor in my nudity and loss. The dream was over there… Without his queens Without his butlers and retinue Without his guards, throne and gold Without any of those who carry out his orders. The dream was over there … Lying dead Like a letter falling out of a dumb mouth Like a love date torn by knives Like a good fire which dogs made water on. **** · ‘iqal: a double-folded felt rope usually worn on the head by Arabs.