His Beauty Spoke to me – By Mais Rim Fayyoumi, Year 9
His beauty spoke to me,
That beautiful Moon;
That handsome man seated crossed-legged on his throne
Sang me the words of beauty,
“There is no impossible”, he said, “there is no impossible”
“How about the imprisonment?” I said.
“Just hold out, and the shackles will unravel”, he said.
“And the poverty?” I said
“Just calm down, that sorrow will come to an end, he said.
I said: “The homeland, the homeland”
The Moon went silent for a moment
Then shouted: “They will pay the price!”
This and that tree
Told the Moon words out of the soil of the land
The Moon told it to me, in words of beauty:
That the tree is dying, and the baby tree is expecting
And the grass tuft, and the flower, how would they imprison them?
They know of music but moaning
They know of strumming but the ring
I called out to the Moon:
But, what about …?
The Moon cut in: “Be silent. I have figured your question out”
Then a tiny teardrop appeared.
The Moon said: “I have cried my light out to the point of saturation.”
I said: “Hold on”
He said: “Shout!
The shackles will unravel and the misery will die out and the poverty will vanish.”