The light and the smog, a poem by Ali Imran

A winter’s eve blooms

in the sundown splendor

on the horizon

and shimmering lights

all over the city.

A wandering heart

pulsates on the outskirts –

rush, rush to the inmost streets

for the blue and the rose must merge

in a splash of intertwined souls!

Or else, or else,

we will melt away

on the edges –

with no Giza to house

our arrogant bones

and nobody left

to tell the story

of the smog-filled city.