You Who Knows Best

Silence of The Winds

There is no limit to my eye.
Yet, it yearns for you like a soul unwilling to die.
It wants to observe its world
only through the colors of your dye.

It handcrafts every image to fit
the description of your wonderful
face.
It can't loose your remembrance
even though you're far away.

It suffers to see the light of day,
and the darkness of night,
but feels coolness and calmness
by your appearance, be it astray or aright.

It awakens to the song of your voice,
and falls asleep to your fragrance of choice.
It expands itself to capture the most of you,
and lessens to see the least of what is not
of you.

It does not enjoy the red sunsets
with the silence of the winds.
It doesn't allow anything, except you,
Ya Mou'minah, to come inside
the iris and its rings.

May we meet where the eye can
find its rest,
And where our hearts beat for each other,
even outside of our breasts.