I did not understand you, friend, when you came to my 7th summer
I did not understand you when the white cloth was laid, the incense burning my mother's throat
I did not understand you when the muazzin announced your arrival
I do understand you now, friend, at my 19th winter
I do understand the luxury of panic is not mine, but the white cloth's
I do understand the incense clutching my throat like a noose
I do understand you now, friend, now that my eyes have never been dry
