The evening is now gone, and the night is always lonely;
I am picking out words of a poem from the dark sky.
Tonight my thoughts have gone in search of metaphors,
Tonight, dipping my pen in moonlight, I have given birth to stars.
Beyond my window, the sea has settled down
in a drowsy motion, lulling the dhows to sleep.
All of this-the night, the moonlight, the stars,
the drowsy sea, the silent dhows-wants to remain free.
Tonight my thoughts have returned empty-handed
and my poem lies unfinished on the page.