I don’t know the female...
neither does she know me

I don’t remember exactly
When were our childhood games separated?
When did they become boys’ games and girls’
games for the first time?
I remember, of course, the day we watered the
trees and you couldn’t
And we together discovered what you don’t
But since your fruits ripened alone outside of
You always win
Every day

Your morning is a field
And you outrun the little ones
In your locks, the darkness hides from the sun
And in your locks, the sun catches it

Your hair is a babbling brook
And the sun laughs
Your braid is an anchor
And the prisoner’s rope

And I didn’t know you
Your summer is coloured
Your winter is a disappearance
Your joy is in your coat
Oh, what a joy for you

The pearls in your eyes
I don’t see them

And the morning kiss on your warm cheek
That contented kiss, that companion;
The kiss of ”thank you
Thank you for a night without loneliness
For an island and a lost one
For a boat and a jetty”
The grateful kiss
Before the toothpaste and the morning tea
I don’t know it
Nor the air kisses
From your lazy bed, fruity soft
And fresh
Your nudity is light
And your bosoms in a travel

And I didn’t know
I’ve been with Martian men and Venusian
And I’ve read the Kamasutra
And placed cherries on your fruits
And melted my mouth on the taste of your

I don’t know you, believe me
You didn’t lean on my lips in the dark to feel the
path of senses
”Your scent is lovely” your breath in my ear
And your eyes are in joy

And I don’t know you
I have the keys
And you change the locks

Honestly, I don’t know:

You face the collector, the baker, and the su-
permarket crowd
And you frantically search for my arms while
crossing the street

Spoons celebrate in your feast
And the aroma of your cooking is a subtle trick
And when I return every night
And open the door with a smile on the edge...
to surprise you

I find you waiting for me every night
Laughing at me, as usual
And at the ignorant that doesn’t know you
I don’t know you in white
I don’t know your blackness
And I don’t know you in the winter as it rains

And I didn’t know you that day
You were preoccupied with the neighbour, tel-
ling her about our children, how much they’ve
About their ingenuity, as they fold me in white,
And they don’t need your help

I have a sadness here with you
I don’t want it

Return my slumber to me
I will sleep alone.

A sorceress

You hadn’t been to the temple
Nor have the oracles seen you
No she-wolf had breastfed you with its puppies
Nor had you drunk dragon blood

You don’t fly on a broom
Nor did I find a crystal ball in your room
Or chicken legs in the kitchen

So, how did you give these things,
All the spells that conjure you
when I see Them?

Formalities, the tail did not mention

There wasn’t a Fairy Godmother, a Kind one of
Rushing her out
Nor did the mice that pull the cart get tired yet
Of the repetition of the dance
That’s very formal

Nor did the sky rain on her dim adornment

And the prince, she liked him
As in the event, precisely

She was just missing her plates
And the wash basin
To talk about her feelings, at the moment
With no reservations

The beautiful will come

You, then, collect my bones, all of them
Count them carefully, to not lose anything
And keep my organs in proper pots

So, when the beautiful comes
Direct me towards her
And tell her to look at me

Thus, I will wake up
From my long slumber

Osama Gad is a poet and editor from Egypt