Dreams and Tears

Dreams and Tears

A Conversation with a Night Girl Without Shame

She was blonde, filled with blind femininity,

A phoenix of beauty, whispering without a veil.

She approached, whispered, and spoke,

Words of madness, veiled in nothingness.

I asked her, inspired by her scandalous talk:

"What do you want from me?"

She replied, "I want you; don’t abandon me."

I said to her, "And who are you to me?

I am a stranger; the road has drained me.

I sat to rest and unburden my sorrow,

And I met you by chance, compelled by circumstances that crushed me."

She leaned closer, slithered, and murmured,

Like a serpent seeking to claim me.

She said, "I beg you, do not wrong me,"

And whispered words that almost stole my reason.

I said to her:

"Do you think I am a killer?

To kill one already slain,

To ruin myself,

And spill my own blood?

I offer you my advice:

I am not for you, and you are not for me.

Return, repent, purify yourself,

And God will forgive what is past.

Shield me from this longing."

She wept as an infant cries,

Seeking the mother’s breast, calling, "Mother."

She gasped, sighed, and squirmed,

Then said, "Go away, leave me,

Depart from here, and depart from me."

I lingered and was patient,

But patience abandoned me.

She reconciled with herself and said:

"I beg you, your advice, and do not leave me.

I have repented to God,

And I pray for His mercy."

Thus, fate decreed our meeting,

To save me.

Praise be to God, the Merciful,

Who lifted my sorrow.

I returned to my senses until the end of my days,

And I shall pray for you, truthfully,

That you remain protected and safe from Satan,

Building with faith.