A winter’s eve blooms
in the sundown splendor
on the horizon
and shimmering lights
all over the city.
A wandering heart
pulsates on the outskirts –
rush, rush to the inmost streets
for the blue and the rose must merge
in a splash of intertwined souls!
Or else, or else,
we will melt away
on the edges –
with no Giza to house
our arrogant bones
and nobody left
to tell the story
of the smog-filled city.
