By Y.A. Habibi
Date: 31 July 1999

Windchimes

Windchimes whirl  making airy music 
Tinkling  into the starry black sky,
Caressing songs out of each gust of  breeze,
Their audience this evening being 
A silent circle of whitened trees;
And, sitting among them,  me.
On nights not unlike this one,
I held her in my arms,
Our mouths sought to bring love close; 
And though I kissed her many times
And my heart searched for her,
Feeling for her breathing, her body, her touch,
I don't have her now.
My love couldn't keep her. 
I lost her
Because we were not the same. 
Maybe she belongs to someone else's kisses now, 
I haven't heard.
Even so, the last pain she causes me
Is when I hear the windchimes
Playing an airy, glittering tune
Renewing with each gust of memory
My sad, sweet lovesong 
Blowing in on the night breeze.