It was possible to make a song from your existence , to renew the old ones, to make an excuse with you, so that Saddam would fill all the brooms until the Day of Judgment, our names would fill the stories, but I knew too late, you were just a blind and deaf doll, the wind was like a kite, I lost my heart to the doll, I myself knew you very late when I was done, not a hand of my comrade. No, you were a partner in grief, you were very, very few to feel my pain, I saw you from afar until I reached you, alas, I was ruined, the city without pedestrians and empty was my lonely city, the moment of getting to know you was the moment of ending , is it possible to make a love poem out of a doll, love something that is not possible, build a house on the sea.
