A Poem About Loneliness in a Café
I’m not lonely because I talk to myself
Sipping my coffee loudly
Raising the ire of a man contemplating the dawn
As it rises on the pavementAnd I’m not lonely because morning
Has left me nothing except its fetid blankets
And that which has been left behind
By those going to their rolesRather, perhaps I’m lonely
Because my hand is completely still
And my eye has not been taken in
By signsI do not imagine anything
Other than what the mirrors of noon raise
In front of me
Arches
Solid shoulders for those passing throughI make no promises
And do not hold my breath in waiting
For my life now is too light
To bear that
Translated by Ibrahim Muhawi
Page(s) 218
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