I, and, my
black hair
Gypsy-like
and frizzy
Miss your
fingers and comb,
Traveling
through its locks,
As clouds
travel
From country
to country.
It’s still
long, Mother
The angels
braid it
Before each
time we meet.
They know
that you
Adore my
hair.
All those in
graves
Know that my
Mother
Is my only
Love.
Do come
today and comb
My black
hair.
Loay Hussein
Taha
Translated
from Arabic by Lina R. Hamadeh
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