Ticking Clock

My soul tells me

That my clock is ticking;

Do not feel sorry

If the crowd lives in worry,

For they are walking carefree

In mischief land,

And we belong

To the Mountains and the Sun;

My soul tells me

That my clock is ticking;

Take me to the Mosque of Olive,

Let's wander in rich blue alleys,

Ancient medinas and remparts,

Knock on random doors,

Offer a smile and beg for wisdom;

We do not have much time left

To walk in Jnane Sbil,

Skip Hammams

Forgo maidens,

Take the alley back

To the Riad of our forefathers;

It's getting dark,

The call for the night prayer

Will soon be heard.

My soul tells me

That my clock is ticking,

And its lume begins to fade.