The Last Cigarette 

A poem by: Enaam Al Hamadany 

Translated by: Enhaa Elias

Flying is the smoke of your cigarette

highly spreading in the room 

like the swarms of lost birds

towards exile 

 I examine it with looks of wonder!

as strange architecture,

your lips breath it

like circles that are in a harmony with the room darkness

infiltrated within your smoke

as a cloud embraces what is remained

from the scent of your cigarette 

I wonder … what the idea that occupies you 

making you go deep

in your silent thinking 

hours pass

the worry looks like a heavy guest

the crackle of the fingers is a sad melody

somehow absent-minded

waiting for a passing train

far from the cities, trampled by the feet of the passersby

long that night is!

a skilled narrator 

tells withered tales

about flowers, been left on the waiting seats

I look for Shahrazad

to end my barren night

Yet, I find her lost in a deep sleep 

I asked for a permission for some time

to return where I was, yet then my fingers 

whisper, t

here are no more

packs of cigarettes