Fog is born

The son of the fog approached the nights

His father called him: O cloud, stay with me

And he takes the cold with him when night falls

And a tremor flutters when it intensifies

And winter called him without a voice

And he did not hear his whisper in words

As if dawn patched the cleanliness of a cloud

And walked on it to the light of vanity

And the fog chokes with the tail of a cloud

Darkness scatters it on the sands

So whoever looks at the fog drives the dawn

Thinks the clouds are a garment of fantasy

And the clouds fled at the appearance of the sun

And wait to stay until sunset

And the sun takes revenge on him

So he died in the heat in isolation

And the morning sends him wandering proudly

And he spreads spreading with the transition

O son of the fog, you wove a covenant

So do not be a gazelle afraid of the gazelle