By Ahmed Latif
As playful as the morning, witty and wistful,
I saw your ghost twirling in the day moon’s light.
I lazily conjured a cozy little dream for us two.
I plucked my harp to songs of Leningrad in the spring.
Your ghost and my spirit danced on the terrace.
We spiralled and spun
Like concentric circles drunk on straight lines.
There is nothing to regret,
The pain will leave such beautiful scars.