I am a stranger in this world,

And there is severe solitude,

And painful lonesomeness in my exile.

I am alone,

But, in my aloneness,

I contemplate an unknown country,

And this meditation fills my dreams with spectres

Of a Paradise, which my eyes have never seen!

I am a stranger among my people

And I have no friends.

When I see a person,

I say within myself,

“Who is he, and in what manner do I know him,

And why is he here, and

What law has joined me with him?”

I am a stranger to myself,

And, when my tongue speaks,

My ears wonder over my voice.

I see my inner self smiling,

Crying, braving and fearing;

And my existence wonders over my substance

While my soul interrogates my heart;

But I remain unknown,

Engulfed by tremendous silence!

When I walk vacant-eyed through the streets,

Of the clamorous city,

The children follow me shouting:

“Here is a blind man! Let us give him

A walking cane to feel his way.”

When I run from them,

I meet a group of maidens

And they grasp the edges of my garment,

Saying: “He is deaf like the rock; let us fill

His ears with the music of love.”

And, when I flee from them,

A throng of aged people point at me,

With trembling fingers and say:

“He is a madman who has lost his mind

In the world of genii and ghouls.”

I am a stranger in this world,

I roamed the universe,

From end to end.

But could not find a place

To rest my head;

Nor did I know any human

Who would hearken to my mind,

And bring delight to my heart,

As there is no one in the universe,

Who understands the language I speak,

Not even my relatives,

Who deem me insane!

<B>Ziyaad MOOS</B>