Four sisters
climb the hill alone
in black clothes.

Four sisters sigh
facing the thicket.

Four sisters in the dark
read wet letters.

A train coming
from Artouf passed
behind the picture.

A horse carrying
a girl from Zakaria
neighs on the ridge
across the plain.

In the gorge
clouds slowly pass.

Four sisters
from Zakaria, alone
in black clothes
on the hill.

My heart is suspicious, brother
My stance is final
No one will guess
The storms in my head
I no longer have confidence in those
Who pass through at night.