(( The Genie of the Lamp ))

When your chestnut hair dances with the morning breeze,

I see you in the hue of a pristine love poem—

Graceful of stature, like a stalk of saffron.

I inhale your fragrance—the scent of dew-kissed words.

O you, marked by a dimple on your cheek,

Who placed the morning star

At the corner of your upper lip?

In the life that blooms through you,

I never saw two crescents on the eve of Eid;

Yet I saw them above the twin lakes of your eyes

When you poured the nectar of your lips into the cup of mine—

Tasting of mountain honey.

I nearly devoured the lushness of your lips,

Had my frost not melted in the crucible of your fire.

I offer my apology

For my poor description and my boldness;

I tried to be a master poet,

Weaving words upon the canvas of your cheeks,

But I must confess

My failure to craft a necklace of whispered love

Worthy of the verdant green of your eyes

And the curve of your lips.

I offer my apology once more,

As I gather… My Losses

I shall try—

I promise you, I shall try—

For your eyes are worthy of all this toil.

How could they not be?

You are the one who gave meaning to this life,

And fashioned it into a necklace of precious gold.

O you, graced with a dimple upon your cheek,

Go wherever you wish;

My heart is the genie of the lamp,

Answering your call—

At your hands and beneath your gaze,

It comes to you in humble submission,

Bearing a love of absolute certainty.

… Janan Al-Saadi …