Silence is heard from a distance,

Its dullness is smiling with a grim grimace.

The place echoes sounds of furious pain,

But its people are snoring in roars.

Like a range of rocks in a cave lane,

Beauty is always there,

But it never crosses the door.

She was a rose wanted,

And among many, she was selected.

With a scarf over her head,

The beauty, an overload of charm.

Her ocean eyes tell stories and fairy tales,

I looked once and felt drowsy,

I drank once and died thirsty.

Her fickle eyes twinkle,

We need not words to speak,

We need not ears to listen.

When having fun, time flies,

And when I am gone, she cries.

My shelter from the rain,

Yes, she is my bulwark from pain.

Mohamed Jdia