Simple as the poor

The world is crowded with evening ghosts

People talk and argue generously

Places inhabited by deaf breaths

Digesting what remains of the bad past

And you see time slipping from the courtyard

As if it were fleeing without clothes!

You find them sitting talking with gestures

Sitting and silence whispering a secret

Standing exhausted from the fatigue of consolation

Lost in the depths of simplicity and prostitution

Waiting for the truth absent from the atmosphere

Dreaming of destiny in order to survive

Wondering their fate like strangers

Suffering alone from the shackles of resentment

Luck may come to them quickly and easily

And pleasure may lead them to the gates of misery

Separated from their souls like cowards

Exhausted from their dark speculations

Rushing with questions like howling

Weighed down with wild secrets

Falling into traps like branches

Lying to themselves with nonsense

Suppressing their anger from mockery

Suppressing their helplessness with pride

In their eyes are words mostly hypocrisy

On their faces, they are hateful in ignorance

And their bodies are wrapped like mummies

Until the ghosts attack them with exhaustion

Then they come upon them Time of retribution

Some of them take revenge on each other stupidly

And their shouting remains there alone, building

And waving loyalty over the ruins of their complex

As if he wanted to free their contract with praise

They have no wealth except what they gave in loyalty

And they have no good except prayer

Until the spark of healing saves their souls