How did I not know I thirsted?
If I had known how parched my soul was before you loved me I'd have cursed it!
My lips are cracked like the wadi bed from dry.
The drought of your kisses; should anyone touch as dust they will crumble.
Only the rain can kiss the desolate dust of my body and my soul not die.
Some say true love is just a mirage men stumble towards in the burning, searing sun of discontent.
If love of one is a figment of my imagination, if love is a lie in my mind's eye:
Let my veins shrink to dirt!
If love in its true form is a mirage, still I say of men to seek it!
For all else is surely desert.