Sennine

FIRST NIGHT: SECOND HISTORY

It was the first meeting In their second history when he met her In the lift of the building, and she aroused what had long been dead in his soul.

She held a book and pen In her hands, and misery was ever Inscribed upon his face.

He had the tongue to say, and she the fingers to write, as though they were two parts that none can live without the other, or he only thought so.

And no one from the building knew whence he had come or when, but, one day they met a dreary skeleton with a thick, shaggy beard and long hair like a woman's, clad In his worn clothes like a vagabond, or maybe like a madman.

From thenceforth, they met him more than once, until they got used to his shape; to seeing death embodied as a neighbour.

She was the only one who saw him, with her tender soul which has never driven a fly away, so she didn't repulse him like the others.

She was the only one who saw him as a human.

She was a girl In people's eyes, but in his eyes she was a soul!

…

It happened after a part of night, when streets were empty of good people.

She was returning to the building In which her father had rented a flat before her birth, to be her dwelling until her death.

But as for Sennine, It was his first night there In his second history.

He stood firmly In front of the building.

It was dark, with no source of light but a dim, blue glimmer reflected from the building over his right side.

He saw her smiling for no reason, holding her books In a hand, and In the other holding a big book like a diary.

She left him behind as If he had been an unseen apparition, but didn't leave his mind.

After standing motionless for a while, he tracked her to the old lift, and entered at her heels.

She saw him for the first time, and was extremely terrified of him.

She thrust herself In a corner, almost wringing to avoid being close to him.

She leaned against a wall and, In her solitary book she jotted something he couldn't see.

"Have you just written about me?" asked Sennine, who used to speak little, with a voice deep and husky, as though It had echoed out from a bottomless abyss.

Terror took hold of the girl's heart and shook It violently.

"N.. No, I'm revising my lessons."

She said, with a quaver In her voice.

It was the first lie.

"May I ask you what your name is?"

"Aliya.."

And this was the second one as he thought.

The lift reached her floor first, then raised him to his last one.

That night, he couldn't sleep or even doze.

He betook himself to his balcony to gaze at hers, with her picture, which had always consoled him, In his mind.

It was her herself, such as he had used to know.

He has not seen her for a long time, but still remembers her as a child remembering his mother, and a mother remembering her child.

It was her herself, the straight chestnut hair, the round spectacles, and the bleary eyes.

It was her herself, with a fresh complexion like the clear clouds of the sky, with no flaw but a mole In her chin making her more pretty; a flaw of beauty.

It was her herself, with her lithe body, uniform smile, and two rose petals upon her lips.

It was her herself, with her whole appearance, but not as he had used to know.

She wasn't aquiver when seeing him In the past, wasn't afraid of him.

Does she presently reciprocate trembling with him? Would it be the quivers of love? He could but think so.

Did she recognize him? think of him?

Did she sleep? or restlessness seized her?

Would she go out to her balcony to look upwards?

Did she write about him In her book? sit at her bureau to read what she wrote, so as to Imagine and draw him?

Can her brushes still not draw but him?

All of these agonizing questions were shaking violently In his head, bursting vehemently In his nerves, and made him feel ecstatic.

And, something like a pricking In his heart, something pleasant to death, caused him to laugh hysterically.

Thus, he spent half the night thinking with Insomnia, and half laughing longingly.

===

SECOND NIGHT: PITYING ONE

It has been so long since we last met. Do you still remember me when alone? In a letter you write, or a painting you draw, or a thought you think of?

Do you miss me? As for me, I dreadfully do.

My yearning for you Is like the yearning of a thirsty tree for the sky's rain, and a drowned one for the summer's heat.

I see you and me after this long separation as If we were strangers, despite the hugging of our hearts.

I saw you last night smiling as you were before, so may I ask you how has the time not spoiled your pure smile, whereas It has snatched It out from my countenance?

Answer me, for I am between the laughter and the sobbing of madness, and would yearn for a smile from our first history.

If you continue to get my letters, you will find In them a stammering you didn't use to, and will feel my trembling.

I beg your pardon, for I have no power over It after what had happened.

Do write to me so that I may heal, and embrace my quivers..

To Soul,

Your obedient one, Sennine.

°°°

All of them encircled her.

A helpless blonde cat In the paws of vicious tigers.

She was passing by them, saw what she saw, and did only ransom It with herself.

The cat was replaced, but the tigers were still the same.

…

One day, she saw a gaunt beggar curled up by destiny, lying on the ground.

His back and belly were both on the same plane from hunger.

She watched him while dining with her friends.

Suddenly, he leaped as though his patience was over.

He ran to the restaurant, and stole the most unworth food so that he might live.

He fled like a prey from Its predator, however, the owner of the restaurant screamed that the thief robbed him.

'Gallant' people joined In to catch him, and devoured what poverty had forgotten to eat.

The throng scattered from around the corpse-like man, and she approached him.. and spent her day starving.

…

Once on a rainy night, she overheard a shriek coming out of her parents' bedroom.

It was her mother beseeching and calling for help, but she was helpless and could do nothing.

Then minutes passed, the door was opened, and her father left the room, armed with his belt round his waist..

She entered and saw her mother entirely naked In that bitter cold, wearing nothing but her wounds and bloody trenches, warmed with nothing but her spilled blood.

She sobbed before her, hugged her, then went out.

On turning to her room, she saw her father slumbering In the parlour with no blanket.

She covered him with hers, and spent the night shivering.

…

The next night, there was no need for him to stare attentively at the building, but he did as the night before.

He learnt to study her routine; when she went out, when she arrived, when she appeared, when she disappeared.

He would stand away from her till the night, and when she came back, he would follow her to the lift.

That night, she was frightened of him more than the night before.

Her limbs trembled when he was gazing at her.

She was not In the lift yet.

She prefered to mount up the eight floors on foot than to stay with his eyes fastened on her.

She willed to do so, but he pushed her Into the lift.

She wanted to scream but a lump was stuck In her throat, and wanted to run away but there was no way.

He did her no harm, just gazed at her for a long time without talking, however, this did In her heart what a long talk cannot do.

Every part of her he had seen before; the mole upon her chin, the Ink In her hands, and the solitary book.

Every part of her took him back to their old days, when they had the fleeting cheerness of Paradise.

In a few moments he Inspired her with an Immortal horror. Nevertheless, he wanted to kill himself after Intimidating her, but there was no other way.

Then the lift reached his floor.

All that time she didn't try to give a protest.

The wicked look In his eyes made her think that If she had done, he would probably have killed her.

The lift stopped.

She was prepared to shout, but he clutched her with one hand, and with the other one he shut up her mouth, and led her out by the hand.

All her books fell before her, excluding the solitary book, for she was to drop all the treasures of the world but not to drop It.

They were In front of his flat.

She foresaw what would happen to her after a few seconds.

Aliya sobbed Incessantly without restraint.

She was almost fainting.

Meantime, he felt her tears flowing on his hand like the fresh rivers of heaven.

She tried to bite his hand, but he tightened his grip around her.

She tried to cry out but her throat constricted.

At the Instant she saw her nightmares plainly, he bent down towards her ear, and whispered:

"I want nothing but some sheets of this book.

You write them to me, and I don't hurt you,"

She nodded In obedience.

"Here It Is my knife In my hand.

I am ready to cut your neck If you open your mouth.

I am going to dictate my words to you.

I will take the letter from you, then let go of you, and the knife will remain In my hand."

He removed his left hand from her mouth, and his right one from her waist.

The girl quivered as though she was dying before him.

She fell to the ground and sobbed.

He was trembling like her, knelt to his knees before her, and shed his tears as she shed.

"I have no intention of doing you any harm, I have only come to ask you to write me a few words. I am an Illiterate man, and you, as I see, an educated damsel,"

She did no reply, and kept trembling.

That night, she panicked like never before.

She picked up the pen from the floor, and bent over the book.

Then she looked at him so that he may speak, but he didn't, until her fear began to subside gradually, and therefore his.. or maybe he only thought so.

He gathered his strewn words, looked Into her eyes getting Inspired by them, and dictated to her what had dwelt within his ardent heart.

That night, Sennine didn't demand her but that.

Aliya handed him the paper and went down the flight on foot.

She entered her flat and found It gloomy and dark as usual, with no human Inhabitant but her.

It had been decreed for her that she would spend the night shedding tears that If were gathered would drown her, some because of fear, some owing to Sennine's sobbing letter, and some due to his pathetic crying before her.

She wept out of pity for him, not for herself..!

===

THIRD NIGHT: ECLIPSED MOON

I wept a lot last night, and caused a soft-hearted one to weep..

We both wept for your sake, Soul.

It Is a sin I commited and confess, and I don't know.. you prabably will not get my to-day's letter owing to It, unless the one I sinned against has a heart like birds', so that she may forgive me the bitter tears poured from her eyes.

Having said so, I used to see my day and night only day, for my moon was bigger than people's, brighter and higher, rising by day and night. But to-day It set and vanished, so both my day and night have been blackenned.

I haven't seen you to-day, and that's strange for you.

You may be sad?

No, I think you send me a letter In which you describe your grief before you grieve, such as me, so as to be closer to you than your grief as you are closer to me than my grief!

Have you been busied by someone rather than me?

I don't know!

If this Is so, you must have loved him more than you love me.

Do you love any one more than you love me..?

Is It possible that you have been abruptly annoyed with me In a childish manner?

If so, command me and I will reconcile you, and will comply with whatever you command!

I have no purpose from this letter but to ask you a reply to It, and I don't know whether you will get It or not, but If so, do tell me about what you feel, and Inform me why the sun has not risen to-day.

To Soul,

Your obedient one, Sennine.

°°°

She was not a maternal nor a paternal orphan, but never felt the existence of her parents.

They always quarreled; their married life was a month of silence and a month of shrieking, and this latter was their reconciliation, as this was the way her father loves, until the year they parted In came, and the girl was left In her father's hands.

However, she didn't spend a whole week with him each year, as he was always away, and she didn't know whither he went.

And as for her mother, she has never seen her since she seperated from her father and married another man.

His visits for her were like sacred feasts, even though he didn't talk to her, for she lived alone with her door not knocked, and when he talked to her It was only words of forbiding and commanding.

Despite her marvellous beauty, she heard only heart-rending words, from her father and her mother before, from her friends, and from the landlord when her father paid the rent late for several months In succession.

She was bewitched by good words, and as a result her keenest pleasure was when she walked out of doors and heard men flirting with her.

However, If she had heard kind words from good people she wouldn't have liked to hear them from rogues, but she had to suffer.

She liked to wander at night, when the thieves of glances and playful knaves exist.

With the naïve smile that always played on her face, she was used to looking Into this one's eyes and that one's, In order to attract this one and that one, so that they may tell her good words, even though with bad Intentions.

…

At noontide, he went outside every day, as she was used to beginning her day then.

He saw her by day and night, with two books or three, sometimes four, but they were always not less than two; one for her purpose, and the solitary book.

He watched her from afar, and when the night came on he got nearer.

notwithstanding, he didn't see her that day, and consequencely spent the day looking at the people who walked to and fro, passed and repassed, so that he may glance her.

The day was over, and the night afterwards, but she didn't make her appearance.

The terror in his heart was that she probably had been befallen by something bad, or that what he did to her the last night would prevent him from seeing her today.

After despairing of meeting her outdoors, he went up to her floor In the lift, and how desolate It was without her!

He knew that she was alone In her flat, with no relative or a friend therein, that she was close to him, who knows, she may be behind this door!

He knocked thrice, and added the fourth, then the seventh, and even the tenth knock, but she didn't open.

He seated himself upon the chill floor, with his back to her door, with his head drooping over his knees, with his eyes shut on her vision, and felt her getting closer, but she also didn't open.

"I know you are behind this door, petrified as you don't know who Is knocking, and you are the one who has not used to hear knocking.

I am Sennine, the broken-hearted monester who made you weep last night, and as a result he wept till his eyes got blind.

I am here to apologize, and say that I only did so perforce.

I am a simple man who cannot dare to hurt a fly, can I dare to hurt you?!" said he, smiling like one recalling.

"I remember once I was walking In the dead of night, and Inadvertently I trampled a frog beneath my foot. All night long I could think of nothing else, Its family and life that I ended In a flash, Its unbearable pain under my foot, and that It died just so In stillness and calmness, and neither a friend of It nor a relative knew about this, so that they may dig It a grave or hold a funerel.

I killed It then was Its friend who held It gently, and the relative who dug It a grave and threw earth upon It, and you still can see my remorse that I still remember It.

Could this heart hurt you? or just think so?

I have no knife as said, and If I had one, It would be only for keeping me alive.

Had it not been for the veil of terror that would conceal what were clear and reveal what were unclear, you wouldn't have believed what I said last night.

And I say I have a sweetheart who cannot live without me even one day, and I am, as said before, an illiterate man, whilst you are a young lady who knows more than this middle-aged man with hoary hair setting about Irradiating his head.

Pray forgive me for what I have sinned against you, and do have pity on me; I cannot bear that you spend one night In which I am the cause of your misery," he paused, recollecting his words and being comforted from the load of talking.

"After what I did last night, you have the right to curse me, and to keep me away from your mercy, but I am the best one who knows of your tender heart.

Do you know what has brought me here? nothing but that I have seen a sparrow which was not In Its proper place.

It was dead on the ground, not flying In the sky, not flapping Its wings.

So soon I remembered you, and a feeling of a bad omen took possession of me.

I feared that something bad had happened to you.

That's why I have come here, to reassure myself.

I see you as a bird with a heart of birds, a bird that has appeared In my life to give language to my thoughts!

I have come only to apologize.

If you listen to this letter from me to my sweetheart Soul, It will be a favor from you, and an admission that you accept my apology.

And, If you don't write It, It Is not, In any case, an obligation on you.

And here It Is.."

After dictating the letter, he was about to go back to his flat with a dejected heart, to have a night of torment therein, but he stopped when he saw In the peephole a yellow rolled paper from her solitary book, such as the one written for him the night before, but this night, It was willingly and without compulsion!

===

FOURTH NIGHT: TWO LETTERS!

I constantly wonder how you have captivated me, how you have made me fall In your love, what shackles those that have bounded me In your prison, what thoughts those that have tortured me In your love?

Yet, I don't know, I can't know, and won't know!

Do you see this odd?

It has been said that we cannot choose In love, and cannot love If we choose, but what can I do with my heart If our love Is my choice, whereas the choice of God Almighty, In his Unseen, Is not like mine?

I have read from tales what mind cannot reason, and heart cannot comprehend.

Love was In all of them, and each one had a reason for love, so why -the word of asking, and the plot of tales- does my heart love you? And why had It never loved and will never love but you?

And when -the word of time, and the base of tales- have we become one soul which the occurrences and hardships of time cannot separate? And when will we both be one body that never gets old?

I want our love not to be surface with no pillars, as Its lustre will get dimmed and colourless with age, and It will fall down with the first difficulty.

And not to be pillars with no surface, as It will confuse us, and will be dry and rigid, so the principal aim of love may get lost In It.

Although I don't know how and when this love will end, I want It not to end.

I want It to grow up, to come of age, and to emerge, so that, If It swells Into the extent that no love has reached before, It may be manifest to eyes, so you may see It with the eye of certainty, and may be plain to hearts, so you may know It with the knowledge of certainty!

To Sennine,

Yours always, your darling you know. (1)

°°°

Mercy!

What a bless It Is when one Is deprived of God's graces awhile then they return to one again, so one, after regarding them as a granted right or privilege, knows that they are only a bounty and a favour from God!

Since I awoke to-day, I have been seeing the extraordinary beauty In the most ordinary things.

I was like a madman hopping hither and thithter, yelling In the merry of children on feast nights:

How dazzling the sun Is! and how generous It Is to bestow us Its light!

How beautiful the sky Is! and how generous It Is to protect us as a ceiling!

How firm the ground Is, and how generous It Is to grow Its plants only for us!

Before making your acquaintance, I had used to listen to dawn birds warbling, and go Into ecstasies with them.

But after knowing you, my day has been turned upside down.

I no longer heard them, but I didn't notice that till yesterday, and accordingly I was a furious, enraged fellow.

Then, to-day has come, and I have told you above what I feel.

On this very day, If a fly stood at my ear and buzzed, I would hear It as the grinning song of the day played to announce a fresh day.

And as I used to see the sun when It rose put on a new dress, I am contented now when I see the sun undress It when It descends, for nothing but only that I can see It..!

All of that because I didn't see the sun yesterday, while I was used to It for two days, and to-day I have got It back and feel like If I had got my soul with It!

All of that, Soul, becuase you did vanish from my sight for one day, and to-day your face has shone to me again!

How pleased a man Is when he gets more miserable than his habit, then this former habit, which was melancholy as well, returns, and, therefore, he thinks that he became pleased due to his contentment!

To Soul,

Your obedient one, Sennine.

°°°

That day, Sennine perserved his Invariable custom, waited for Aliya at noon behind his tree.

This tree, which he had taken as a veil, was always leafy, no matter In what season It was.

He used to hide behind It to watch her from afar, following her with his eyes until she vanishes from his sight.

Ten minutes of waiting passed as If they had been the whole time since the world was created.

They were merely ten minutes, but owing to them comes the happiness or the sadness of a whole day.

And as for that day, he was fated to be pleased.

He didn't wait for her arrival, as he had used to for two days, and then she would stay In the building awhile, then she would go down again, then she would return, but he rather wanted to make her happy as she had done with him, so he sought for that In a library.

And they both, thinking of each other, returned home In the evening.

She had pity on him to avoid him when he was In need for her, and he, thinking of what he would say to her, recalled two letters In his head.

When Aliya reached the building, she found him there.

His appearance, that she hadn't been used to, induced dreadful thoughts In her heart.

But she, knowing that he would follow her, continued walking to the lift.

They were alone In the old lift.

He gazed at her as usual.

He saw remains of the horror that was In her eyes the day before the former day.

She took her corner, avoiding looking at him.

"Do you draw?"

She had known that he would converse, but on the contrary of what they both had thought, she didn't shudder as In nights gone by, but even his question reassured her!

"Sometimes, yet I don't draw In the lift." said she, shrugging her shoulders.

Sennine shook with laughter.

He felt wit In her words, as though she became less afraid of him.

He was over the moon.

"Do you write In It, eh?" he said, In a half-joking tone.

His glance met hers.

She smiled at him for the first time. It was particularly for him, specially for him, not like her regular smiles at the others.

It was a smile that he would never forget In this world or the next.

The lift stopped at her semi-dark floor.

There was only a feeble lamp casting a dull glimmer.

She got out and Sennine walked at her heels.

She started when she saw him behind her, as If she had seen a demon or an evil spirit.

"Haven't got used to that yet?" he exclaimed. "the letter!"

"Every day?"

"And they are two to-day!"

Then a slience of nature reigned In wit and serenity.

"Well, do you know Son of Porter?" said he, breaking the silence.

His words were not less eccentric than him; she wasn't surprised at all.

"The porter of the building? I have just known that he had a son!"

"Why, no! He was a man called so. They say he was the finest Arab calligrapher, but I say:

before you hold pen!"

Her heart ceased throbing for a moment, like the dark clouds when they stop moving before a tempest.

then, It shook vigorously and raged like them.

And, as a tempest smites on a land with rain, so It either gives It birth If It be barren, or gives It death If It rages, her heart, as well, smote upon her with thoughts, however, It gave her both birth and death.

Alas! The one who lives on kindly words Is always starved by the cruel tongues of people!

"This Is.. such a precious compliment!"

was her reply, accompanied with a thundering.

She knew that the clouds were sharing her the tears glistening In her eyes.

"It Is, and If words weren't gifts, and If It weren't for the fact that gifts are not gifts when they are priced, I would have told you the whole affair,"

"Do tell me, and I will regard It as another gift!"

"To-day, I betook myself to a library.

When I asked the librarian about the best Arab calligrapher he seemed not to know.

I made him sit before a book on this topic.

He kept reading for hours when I was beside him, until he, at last, found what I wanted, and here I am before you telling It!"

The sky thendured again, pouring the rain of mercy.

Meantime, Aliya's heart thendured as well, but her eyes poured the rain of pity.

How pitiful she was!

Then the sky elightened, and her mind on which the questions set off falling like raindrops elightened as well.

"Were they letters of words or fetters? Was It a pack of lies that had begun with 'I see you as a bird'? Did he say so In order that she may write him his letters? Or he say so for her.. And just for her?

Did he think of her when she smiled like the rogues when she smiled at them deliberately, but now her smile was not on purpose? Did he crave sexually for her?" she thought, her mind almost screaming.

"Do you crave for me?"

The poor girl found nothing to say but what was In her heart, so that she may be relieved by the answer.

"What do you mean with 'crave'?" asked Sennine, astonished.

"To do with me what a husband does with his wife, to crave for my body, my delights, to Imagine me naked, frail. No one has told me good words but with these three thoughts In his mind."

Aliya was a forgiving creature.

She forgave every sin except the one she mentioned.

Since she heard her mother shrieking and begging, and saw what followed of blood and blue marks, of crying and sobbing, and what afterwards followed of the seperation of her parents, of her solitude, and that she still can remember the sight of her mother when she opened the door humiliationly with her nails, and from behind she appeard with her husband.

On the other side of the door Aliya stood. She was still a child, didn't know what was going on.

She saw her mother underneath her father like a dead body with no sort of life but the secret of life Itself: the poured tears and the spilled blood.

She still remembers her mother's words then, when the blood was still rushing and drippling from her:

'This physical pain that you cry over doesn't equall a tenth of what Is In my heart of humiliation!'

Sennine was sorely perplexed. He was the third one to elighten.

He couldn't comprehend what she said. Why did she assume that he craved for her body just because he told her kindly words?

"Love will be Imperfect until It Is perfected by what you have just said.

As for me, If I craved for a woman, It would not be for her body Itself, but I seek for perfection!" said he, still confused.

The girl saw a secret In these words, and emphasized them, but she pretended not to care.

Then they both fell silent, and the sky followed.

They remained thus for a while, glancing at each other.

They both quivered, not knowing whether It was because they were alone, or due to the chill air around them, or owing to the darkness of the place.

"You said two letters?" queried Aliya, breaking the silence.

Sennine's zest, which had been quenched by the queer question, came back to him.

"Yes! A friend of mine knew the favor you have done me," he began. "She Is a poor girl with an aching heart because of love.

Her lover Impassioned this burning heart, plagued It to the extent that she had no companion to relate her sorrows, except the sheets of paper.

She requested me to ask you to write her letters with mine, for she Is Illiterate like me, and both her letters and my letters are here.." he said, pointing to his head.

"As for you, you are obedient Sennine of Soul, what about her?"

"She wanted him not to know her name, so call her 'His darling he knows', and he Is called Sennine!"

"Why, you are such a scoundrel!"

Aliya ecxlaimed, with a frown.

Sennine laughed heartily with Internal satisfaction, and said breathless:

"I'm not! there are two Sennines..!"

(1): Adapted from a friend's message.

===

FIFTH NIGHT: TREE OF LOVE

Have you ever seen In your dreams or daydreams a human being who Is, from her keen pleasure, as If God placed within her all the hearts of human beings, wiped hatred from them, and kept nothing but love?

Have you ever seen an ocean filled with gaiety Instead of water? A tree that bears love Instead of fruit?

Have you ever seen the twinkling stars leaving the sky of all creation to scintillate only In one's sky, so that one may sparkle and shine with all of their lights?

A barren land rained with the drops of goodness until It turned Into a delightful, grassy green?

Do you know that all of that happen within one heart, In one blink, with one word from you yourself?

You yourself! Were always for me as the clouds; one day you drown me with torrents and gusts, and one day you quench my thirst!

You yourself! have picked me as a bloom from my roots, but how could I be angery with you when my roots were thorns?

You yourself! a word of anger from you opens the seven gates of hell before me, and a word of satisfaction Is a key of the eight gates of heaven!

Have you ever seen..?

To Sennine,

Yours always, your darling you know.

°°°

I had a tree I knew for four nights, nevertheless they were nights of love so time was different with them: they flied as If they were four blinks when I was therein, and when they passed away, I began to feel as If I had known them for four years.

And I had taken It as a veil covering me from you while watching you from afar grinning and laughing, and as a place for love distinguished from all other places by that I come to It only to crave.

It was an erect, lofty tree with a bright-green colour, and bore love though It was devoid of fruit.

I marveled at It when seeing It for the first time luxuriant In spite of this autumn weather, and seeing Its sisters beside with bare limbs. It was the only one that withstood, as though It were a mother with lots of hands, and each leaf was her Infant that she would never put down.

And so soon I remembered our love and how Its sparkle doesn't get sombre neither by winter nor by summer, by day nor by night, and how It Is firmly rooted, so when gales pass by Its leaves they be nothing but as a breeze fanning a beauty's hair, caressing her, and making her more pretty.

And how each leaf has Its sister beside, and how the love has tangled Its hands to unit all the leaves by connecting them to Its trunk.

Thus, with this great system It Is like a force of bonding which has been created by God to teach man how to unite and cooperate.

However..how brutal mankind Is..!

I awoke to-day to find nothing but the tree's remains, and Its Infants by the name of leaves scattered and sobbing beneath my feet, and hands with which It had hold the leaves, even knowing It was going to be cut down, so they consequencely lopped Its hands..

And the wretched mother..! Alas! After separating It from Its Infants, man takes It and refuses to have mercy upon It by killing, and makes It live as long as a chair or a table or so forth live, and keeps It alive for many years, without Its original Identity and shape, so It cannot help wishing for death, so that the earth may return to be Its dwelling and home.

And as this tree was a sign of our love and connected to It, I felt after cutting It as though a part of our love were cut, and knew that the memories I had of this tree have faded with It.

I did water Its daughters with water and salt from my eyes, yet my water and salt were not like their mother's. (2)

They saw their doom In what had given them life..

To Soul,

Your obedient one, Sennine.

°°°

It was a Damascene-style café, In which the plants and blossoms drooped over the walls and from the ceiling as If It had been built upon a tree, and the sources of light were yellow, warm lamps and lanterns, as though they were miniatures of the sun-- and some beams of the moonlight slipped of the stained glass high on the walls.

The sun and the moon met one another therein.

On the café's wooden chairs and tables, lay red soft cloths on which when one sits one feels as though one reclined the green cushions In heaven.

And every part of that place was adorned with the brilliant Arabic calligraphy; Its walls, doors, chairs, tables, and saucers.

Thus, It was a place where the cool winter can warm Itself.

They spent their fifth night together there.

Sennine Invited Aliya at noon, and accompanied her thither at night.

She accepted his Invitation owing to the naïvety of her charecter, as this was the first time to be Invited In her whole life.

She was so Impressed with this building, and amazed that her companion, who had been used to It, was not Impressed like her.

Some of the chairs around them were vacant and some occupied.

On these latters sat either lovers talking In couples, or relatives recalling In pairs; thus It was a place of passion.

All people In the café were talking except them.. they fell Into a profound silence of veneration and awe.

Every table had a candle that burnt feebly, and a sheet of paper underneath the glass In which some verses had been written.

"Would you read them for me?" asked Sennine, breaking the silence.

Aliya was bewildered, for he said that at a moment's notice.

She looked around, alarmed to be heard.

At last, she only gave him a long look, then turned her head, cleared her throat, and began to recite:

At that time we thought the dead of night

Much more bright than broad-day-light

•••

A lost glance Is all I seek

to guide me along my path

I don't know how you get me meek

When I'm with you you kill my wrath!

•••

O bird what can I do

to have a wing as you

So as to meet my love

and the high heaven, too?

•••

I wonder why my hard snow

When seeing thee cannot but thaw?

•••

So how to reach the light of morns

Whereas our feet slip on thorns?

•••

Toward evening your eyes keep glowing

Toward evening they cast shining Pleiades (3)

•••

And her timid smile and blush while reciting fascinated him, and took his heart years back to his first history.

"Do you know.. It was a habit to come here every now and then, she and I, my dear Soul," said he. "I remember that as If It happened last night. She recited these verses for me, with her eyes full of love that a heart cannot bear, looking at me with her tenderness and I looking with my passion.

It was at this very table, all of that.

Presently your are In my place and I am In hers.."

Suddenly, Aliya felt a cold shiver down her back.

She felt as If the soul of the girl had been near her.

"Could I know why you said 'came'? have you seperated?" she asked.

"Have you just known? What would have barred me from talking to her directly with my tongue If we hadn't separated?"

"Then why?"

"Does love contain this word 'why'?

It Is just so, you don't know whether It Is your fate or the Ills of time, or probably they both? or maybe It Is the love establishing Its custom by making two lovers suffer.

That's how It Is In love, to get used to not asking, for nothing but that you have used not to receive answers."

Then the silence lasted again, for their meeting was of the sort of listening and watching, not talking and speaking.

They watched this lad give this girl a rose, and that man bestow that woman a ring, these ones grin, those ones laugh, and other ones sing.

And for that they have come..

"Who do you think of these couples Is the most loyal?"

Sennine asked, suddenly.

Aliya, whose eyes wandered around all over the place gazing at each pair, finally fixed them on a close one.

The lad's face In this couple was opposite her and the girl's back was to her.

She beheld In the lad's eyes a unique look that she had never seen like, a look that seemed as If It had been speaking, a look that two eyes couldn't have looked unless their pupils had been changed Into two hearts, and didn't see the girl's eyes.

She pointed them with her head. Sennine did nothing but laugh and trail off Into silence.

Whereupon, he dictated his two letters, which, In that air of warmth, had an extraordinary feelings.

His voice while dictating was as If his heart were the one that talked.

She listened to him with her heart not her ears, and felt like each letter of his words were only for her.

Their talk was like a tight bond between the two hearts, and for that they have come..

No sooner had she finished them than she heard his words:

"Look at them now!"

he didn't mean the letters, but the two lovers she had pointed.

The girl stood after she was sitting, and her face somewhat appeared.

It had an Impression of sadness and exclamation, for she probably heared from her companion what she didn't think he would say.

"I thought you thought of me as a friend as I thought of you!

We often came here as two friends, I liked to exchange words with you, and I liked your company!

However, I hope you understand me this time, and not to let that offend you.. you are not sufficient for my dreams..!"

Then she left him and went away.

He was stunned. All of his features were Immovable except his lips; they kept trembling as though he had been a little child slapped by his mother.

And alas! It was but the slap of reality!

The world around him was blackenned, the music stopped to play, the candles went out, and the place In which they had used to meet became desolate, for It Itself was the place In which they parted..!

And he saw his doom In what had given him life..

"Did you see how she rent his heart?!" exclaimed Aliya, gasped In shock. "How brutal mankind Is..!"

(2): water and salt of his eyes: tears.

Water and salt of the tree: mineral salts.

(3): All the verses In this story belong to Its author.

===

SIXTH NIGHT: A PAINTING FOR BURIAL

I have used from you to taste your torture till I forgot your mercy.

I have seen your mercy In a word that did make me forget your torture.. What a wonder! Is this love?

Your words of torture fling me roughly to the bottom of hell, and your words of mercy raise me gently to the top of heaven.

Here I am before you, describe what you please of my delights and pay no heed to my wrongs. Recreate me faultless with your mind, then redescribe these thoughts of yours with your heavenly keys called words, and send me them In a bright sinless letter!

Here It Is my hand, here It Is my hair, here they are my eyes, and here It Is my body, and for you Is all of me; pick from me what you please.

Then, If you choose what you want, be aware that It has been six nights In our second history, and to-morrow Is the seventh night, and you know well the perfection of seventh nights..

Let us perfect our love to-morrow, Sennine, and be both one body that never gets old!

To Sennine,

Yours always, your darling you know."

°°°

Ah..!

What a word! Two letters of language that can do all what language does, two letters of language that can describe my feelings whenever I feel!

O anguish of heart! Why can I not forget when all of those years elapsed? That you were for me my family and home, yet my 'family and home' were my traitor..

That I would have been pleased If what you did to me had been done by a foe, or If we had been two enemies since we met.

However, what Is the use of wishing?

Do you not know that If one leads one's whole life In hell wouldn't suffer like another one had known heaven and then met hell?

Do you not know that It's enough for me as a consolation to forget our best memories not our bad ones?

I wish you knew..!

Ah..! and they are two letters uttered by my heart not my tongue, two letters from the anguish of souls that all people can understand despite the diversity of their languages, two letters that If language were faded they would be sufficient for people Instead, two letters from our first history..!

To Soul,

Your obedient one, Sennine

°°°

It was a surreal painting.

An old narrow lift contained a whole café with Its chairs and tables at which two shades sat.

The walls of the building In which was the lift were not but many letters In old sheets of paper.

Above the building loomed a mysterious shade holding In Its left hand a dagger on which a severed head bled, and Its right one a black heart with no stab or blood, and lied a tree from which blood bursted and flowed like falls over the walls of letters.

It was a dark, rainy night.

The sky was cloudy and full of lightening.

In front of the building stood a hideous woman, drawing In the vacantness a handsome lad with a pen and book In his hands.

By her stood the same woman and the same lad, but her eyes reflected all the malice that a human heart can feel, and held a dagger with which she stabbed the lad's heart, but the blood flowed underneath her.

Then the same woman stood again, but merely her horrible face appeared, encircled by seven shades.. perfecting their love with her.

A part of the sky was cloudless with seven little stars, and the disk of the moon was not but a mirror reflecting some of what were beneath.

•••

Thereupon, Soul burried what painted beside what she had burried, and said to him:

"You did leave me nothing but to torture you In my thoughts, but how has my torture reached me..?"

===

SEVENTH NIGHT: THE TRUTH

I have told you In my letters what I know about myself, but.. How can I tell you what I don't know?

As for now, this eternal doubt circulates through my veins.

I lost belief In everything.. even In you.

You are before me, a palpable shape, but, do you think I would believe my eyes?

You are my life, Soul.

If I am In doubt about you then what Is the use of my life?

How can one live without life? And Is the one who only lives In one's Imagination alive?

I swear by God, If all people on earth said In chorus that you are a mere Illusion, I would reject them and believe myself, but.. what can I do when you say that with your own tongue?

So It Is you decision, Soul, whether I live or die..!

Is It possible for you to be Imagined twice?

I must not think thus!

Why does my tongue get loosened, my heart get straitened, every time I talk to you?

Give me back my mind you have stolen, my soul you have seized!

To-night, Soul, the truth comes out, and I know whether you be Imagined; so people will carry me within my coffin, or you be real; so you may carry me with them..

To Soul,

Your obedient one, Sennine.

°°°

Sennine, after his tree had down, began to watch Aliya closely with no veil or wall, as though he wanted to Inform her what was In his heart, and begin paving the way for that.

It was a chill, cloudy day, as If the sun had been Ill, or changed Into an expiring luminary concealed by the clouds, although what happened then was at noontime, when the sun rises exceedingly, and when It Is sultry.

As soon as Aliya descended the staircase, she found him, contrary to his usual custom, waiting for her.

He didn't let her go until she wrote him his letter.

However, after having used to write him two letters for three nights -one from him and one from his anonymous friend- he dictated to her a single one that day.

He had told her that this friend was a girl with no relations except those ones with letters, but as for that day, she probably has 'perfected her love' with the other Sennine as said In her last letter, so she no longer needs to write to him.

And this was the first time that the first Sennine didn't give her time till the night.

As often as he saw her before, his miserable face would become happy, and the eagerness of youth come back to him.

Nevertheless, that day he seemed downhearted, his face yellowish and grim, as though he were a corpse which left his grave to walk amongst people as a man.

What wormwood did this middle-aged man taste the night before to change utterly overnight?

What misfortune did he experience to obtain with his age another age of a human who hadn't known what happiness Is?

His hair that was silverer, his eyes that were redder, his lips that were paler, his sudden emaciation as If he had suffered from a hunger which made him eat himself, all of that did not absorb the girl like the Ink dots on his right palm!

Good God! How dumbfounded she was!

How large her eyes were!

They popped as though they had been ready to burst.

Has he been teasing her for six nights? preying on her tenderness?

What about his threat to kill her? her Ink that she poured from her heart?

Were all of that just for a temporary amusement?

Good God! What did he profite when he added to her compassionate soul two pities, now for him, now for her? when he made her cry for six nights?

Good God! The one who taught her to classify tears? and made her taste all the classes In a few days? out of mercy, out of fear, out of begging, out of perplexity, and other 'outs'?

Good God! The only one who told her good words that raised her to the heaven, now Is hurling her down to the lowest ground with no words?

Good God! She was so confused that she heard nothing from his words..!

Then she noticed him, pitied him.

She didn't make him know that she saw the dots of Ink upon his hand, deferring the whole affair until It's due.

He dictated his sixth letter which was the most vague and least eloquent.

He pocketed It, and went away.

•••

On the night of that day, Aliya didn't find Sennine waiting for her after her nocturnal purpose.

She was used from him to that for five nights.

It was a mystery.

A few hours after her return, staying alone In her flat, lying In bed with one blink away from sleeping, she heard an Ill-omened knocking.

The knocking was not loud, but the veil of terror would conceal what were clear and reveal what were unclear.

It made her fancy as If thunder had embodied as a human and come to knock on her door.

Hope slipped Into her heart:

That It must be her father, for he Is the only one who may come -when he comes- at that late time of the night.

And panic: that she didn't see Sennine that night, so It might have been him, coming with some trick.

She walked to the door, with her legs now progressed, now retreated, until she finally reached It.

She peeped through the peephole, and saw nothing but the dull yellow light shaken by the gusts.

She set about repeating with a quavering voice: Who Is knocking? Who Is knocking..!

But no reply In consequence except the echo of her whispers.

And she remained like that for a while, whispering:

"Who Is knocking?"

But the one who knocked didn't respond.

She repeated that more than once, until she came to a conclusion that she had been fancying, and that her subconscious mind had only pictured her nightmares to her.

She thought that her mind defeated her twice, and her curiousity beated her fear, as she reached her hand to the door, shaking with terror lest she see what she fears.

The door creaked with her fist on Its handle, and her heart creaked as well.

The sky thendured, and her limbs trembled.

The dim glimmer of the yellow lamp was reflected as a crescent moon, then as a quarter moon, then a half, until It ended up as a full-moon In her two eyes.

The door was nearing her while being opened, and nearing, too, the panic and the hope.

Then the door was finally opened wide, yet.. the one who knocked was not a human.

It was a tiny, wooden box of old-fashioned make, which the yellow, pale light couldn't reveal Its features.

She reached her right hand cautiously to It, as though her body were possessed by another spirit that could control her as It willed.

Aliya carried It to bed.

It smelled Immensely like Sennine; the odour of dust and mud on a stormy night.

When she opened It, there were seven numbered letters, six of which were In her own handwriting, and one In his.

She was right.

She proceeded to read them all from the first one to the seventh one.

Although she was the one who had written most of them, she didn't read any of them even once.

They brought back to her mind all the circumstances of a peculiar week.

"Do write to me so that I may heal, and embrace my quivers.."

"So as to be closer to you than your grief, as you are closer to me than my grief!"

"How pleased a man Is when he gets more miserable than his habit, then this former habit, which was melancholy as well, returns, and, therefore, he thinks that he became pleased due to his contentment!"

"So It cannot help wishing for death, so that the earth may return to be Its dwelling and home."

"That you were for me my family and home, yet my 'family and home' was my traitor.."

With every letter she shivered and quivered, and within her heart emotions of all sorts met one another; she was reassured and terrified, wept and smiled, steadied and missed mind, until she came to the seventh letter.

It was the shortest one, yet the most terrifying one.

It was a letter of seven words that did In her heart what seven sharp swords would do; tore It up Into numerous fragments.

By God!

The words were frightened swords, trembling swords!

'Now the truth appears, on the roof.'

The girl uttered a sigh of horror.

She found herself involuntarily getting up and walking towards what he said.

Her steps were laggard; one leg forward and one leg back.

She pictured to her mind what would happen If she went up or If she stayed, If she hurt someone or If she hurt herself!

The second pan of the balance of conscience tipped, or maybe It was only the spirit that had mastered her.

On the last landing before the apex, her bare feet groped for the cold treads.

With every step she took, the yellow faint light was getting monotonous, until everything on the floor above hers was blackenned before her, the floor on which once she thought that she was about to be killed.

Then, the black turns blue gradually toward the roof, the thenderings howl In a horrid way as though It were the sound of the Horn when It shall be blown, and the lightnings cleave the sky as though they were a great lamp splitted, and Its clusters of light scattered like pleiades.

Yonder, she saw his shape sitting on the edge of the roof, drooping his legs, with his back to her.

Sennine, In that position, was like one watching his death from a near place.

Scarcely had she taken a step toward him when his voice, overwhelmed and depressed, resounded.

"I thought you wouldn't come."

She felt the smile of misery In his voice, without seeing his face.

She stopped In her place by the drenched staircase.

"Why did you call me?"

she asked, shaking In terror and with cold.

"Ask me about what you want.."

he said, without turning.

Then a silence of people's talk reigned, and only the firmament kept talking.

The drops of the rain were Its tears, the thenderings Its shouts, the lightnings Its bursts, as though It was a greater Image of what was going on In their hearts.

Aliya sought for her thoughts, remembering what had occurred her mind of him, and said:

"Who are you?"

Despite taking her on trust, confiding her some of his secrets, she barely knew anything about him, nothing but his name, love, and philosophy. besides, she didn't know these three from his tongue; but only through her having written them on behalf of him.

"I'm a suspicious, dubious man.

I don't love anything but with the thought of separation In my mind.

Nevertheless, I am like a child with his mother; he knows well that she Is a mortal creature, but he doesn't know that he Is a forgeting one," he began. "When her death comes, she takes his soul with her, and he remains on the earth as a soulless, hollow body afterwards, and his whole wish In life becomes just to die, so that he can meet her again!

I am that one who cries for an Inevitable thing, who ploughs the solid ground with his nails owing to helplessness and Inability-- his hands bleed with wounds, his brain bleeds with thoughts, but the ground doesn't feel his attempt to hurt It but as an Infant, stumbled by It, hitting It with his little, delicate fists so as to revenge!"

His hoarse voice was hardly audible, for the thendurings and the raindrops were louder.

Besides, It quavered, now out of pity for himself, now out of fear.

Thus, most of his words didn't reach her.

She saw him only from his back side, however, her heart burnt In pity.

Fortunately, she didn't see his lips trembling, his teeth grinding, and he biting them to stop, but the blood bursted.

It Interrusted with the tears, his bushy beard drowned In the fresh sea of the sky, In the salty sea of his eyes, In the pungent sea of his lips.

Fortunately, she didn't see his heart, as everyone on the earth has a boisterous night In which he recalls the whole grief and distress that he passed through.

His endurance on that night depends on the amount of his misery.

If his sorrows are small but many, they gather and unit to kill him.

And, If they are large but paltry, they cram his soul, and this latter hence cannot but overflow.

Thus, no one survives this night except the one upon whom God has mercy.

"Who Is Soul?"

Aliya Inquired.

"She Is my luminous angel, and darkened devil, for her Is my life, and for her will be my death. She Is the sun, the moon, and the stars at a time, and she Is the sorrow, the distress, and the pain at the same time.

She Is the oldest danger, the greatest secret, whoever sees her exquisite beauty for the first time thinks he Is admitted Into paradise, and when he knows It well he falls Into her hell.

She Is whom words cannot describe, poetry cannot praise, an eloquent one Is the one who falls silent when seeing.

She was a girl I knew In my younger years, who got the summer running through her eyes, the winter through her lids, the spring through her lips, and the autumn.. alas! her memory passed away with Its leaves..

She drew me when she was sad and glad, and when I was glad and sad, when we were over the moon, and when we were under a cloud.

She didn't care about grief or rapture, as she herself was the source of grief and rapture!

We used to exchange letters.

She talked to me with her heart and I replied with my heart.

When our words would come to an end, we talked with silence, thus how our love was; all In correspondence!

At that time, I had my people with me, my friends who cherished me, but all of them denied she was real.

She was seeable before me, brighter than the sun and more obvious than the moon, so I didn't believe them at all.

She had seized my mind that I couldn't differentiate between what were Imagined and what were real.

I was confused with the whole creation.

I disowned my father and mother, my sister and brother, my companions and comrades.

Nothing was certain for me except she.. My sweetheart, Soul.

And one day, I woke up suddenly, knowing not when or how, to find my world utterly void.

She was the only one who stayed with me, the one who every acquaintance of mine had said allegedly that she would fade, but she remained, and they themselves departed.

Then seven elapsed, and I don't know, as time In love Is always different, whether they were seven of days or weeks or months or years.

Then, I woke up anew, but I didn't find her beside me.

My world was devoid of her and of everything, even I think It was devoid of emptiness!

I remained thus for a long time, even my hair turned gray and my beard got long.

I felt nothing In the least, my heart was saddened and broken, wanted to get rid of what had dwelt In It but couldn't, as though It was like a man wanted to vomit the poison he swallowed, so he thrust his fingers In his throat, but, alas! they were stuck there, so he saw his doom In what should have given him life!

Then I met you again, Soul..!"

After this very word he broke off.

The two hearts were about to swoon, and the sky elightened.

Aliya couldn't understand this word, couldn't comprehend It.

She was overwhelmed by It like the sky with the clouds.

Has he just called her Soul? How?

Is It possible that his madness returned to him while complaining of his sorrows to her, so he fancied that she was his Soul?

Is It possible that the thunderings were louder than his voice or made him stutter, and consequently she mistook what he said or he mistook what he said?

Is It possible that her ears had become deaf before she heard what he said, so they made her Imagine as If his words had meant her?

She believed that she became deaf and didn't believe what he called her with!

"Have you just called me Soul..?"

She gasped, with her legs couldn't help trembling, with her tongue heavy as If she were drunken.

A while passed after her question. She fancied how his features would be.

would he laugh at her and all of that be a mere joke? would he be grinning mockingly?

What would she do If that was right?

Would she be sad, angry with him? or would she be happy that the whole thing came to an end?

How would this fatal night end?

"What did you think? It has been seven nights and I have never called you with your false name..!"

She didn't understand what he said again.

She rather didn't want to understand.

"What about the letters? Why did you make me write them though you didn't send them to Soul? Why did you deceive me saying you are illiterate?"

She asked.

"My letters to you were two types: Some of them I sent just to speak and to be heard, for no one read them, but I reached with them what I wanted; my heart to be heard by you, and you to feel what I feel towards you.

and they were letters sealed with 'To Soul'.

You are Soul, and you have heard them from me, so I am not In need to send them.

However, the truth will appear to-night.

I sent you them lest you will forget me afterwards.

And some of them I sent just to see, to see you writing what my tongue said from what It had wind of from your heart, so that I might feel the spirit of Paradise manifesting itself on my heart, and feel as If you had written to me, even though you only wrote what I dictated.

And they were letters sealed with 'To Sennine'.

And I am Sennine.

I sent them to me on your behalf, In a box like the one I sent you.

Yes, you are three persons In my mind, Soul: the woman of the first history, the girl of the second history, and my darling I know.

And you all In my heart as one!

And I am two persons In your mind: the youth of the first history, and the man of the second history, but In your heart.. how can I know what I am?

As for saying I am Illiterate, It Is what pushed me to-night to be here, for I have spent many years In which I haven't been sure about anything, until, when we met for the first time In our second history, I was sure I couldn't write.

And this may be from our fates leading us to one another!

Nevertheless, all of a sudden, I wanted to write yesterday, as though It hadn't been me.

I held a sheet of paper, set about filling It.

And, I swear by God, I felt as If my eyes had been pouring blood upon It, so as to write It In blood!"

He had tried to control himself until he came to this point.

For a prolonged time, he has hidden his sorrows within him.

But, at that very moment, he couldn't help bursting with what he had long suppressed.

He sobbed like an Infant who couldn't see his mother for a few seconds.

His groans were louder than the thenderings.

His body shook In many, subsequent quivers, as though he had been In the throes of death.

"To look Into a mirror every day and strain your mouth to smile, but when you look closely you find another one In the mirror staring at you, sobbing and weeping, as though all the burdens In God's world piled upon him and only him.

And when you look more closer you get terrified by the Intense resemblance between you and him, you even think he Is you yourself, yet you know that you are not like that!

Something unavoidable rattles In your throat.

You shut your eyes so that he may fade; like a child thinks the whole world vanishes when he closes his little eyes.

Nevertheless, when you open them again you find his grief growing, his eyes flooding with tears like a hailstorm, wherewith a sea can be crammed and overflow.

You even feel as though you got a soul that Is not your soul, and the one In the mirror were a devil who had remained In hell for a thousand years, then he got out of It with Its Infernal horrors upon his face!

This Is not me, Soul! This Is not me!"

Then he remained silent for a while, so as to catch his breath and the words not to suffocate him.

"To meet someone who becomes your whole life, but you don't know whether this one Is real or your whole life Is merely phantasmagoria created by your mind to endure the difficulties and darkness of life. Therefore, you don't know whether this vast life Is a big lie, as this vast life of yours only lies In that 'one' who Is an Imagination or a mirage.

All of that became evident to me when I knew that I can write, Soul, after having Imagined for a long time that I couldn't.

And our story In our second history, and what It depended on from that you have written me all of what passed In my heart with your own hand.. all of that were a kind of dream!

Why can my heart and eyes see you, while the heart and eyes of other people can't?

Why do you refuse but to be Imagined every time I meet you? Would you not be real even for one time..? one time with which I may be content, so that I can die at peace with myself or live In peace with you..!"

At that very Instant he arose but didn't turn, and his shape straightened up staring at the tumultuous branches of lightning at the edge of the building.

Aliya was behind him, looking attentively at the living picture In front of her, astonished by what she saw and heard and felt.

"As for to-night, Soul, It's all in your hands: If you are real we will perfect our love; for It Is the seventh night of It, and this Is what you said In the letter of last night, so don't change It!

And If you are real, here I see our children playing around us, and you and I with a sustainable bond of love, heart to heart and hand In hand, gazing at them and smiling.

We will paint our dreams with our own hands!

But If you are an Illusion, here I am one step away from my death, for what is my need for life when you are away from me?

After saying so, I would wait a minute and turn, and I, If you knew, yearn for turning, as It may be the last farewell.

If I see you, I will know that you are real.

If not, oblivion will swallow me as It will do with you..

So It Is your decision, Soul, whether I live or die..!"

Then he remained silent, she, and the sky, but all the commotion and noise kept talking In her head.

The hands of the clock struck her one after the other, while she was whimpering and trembling with her mind screaming because of thought.

Can all of that be an absurd jest? Is he trying to take advantage of her naïvety so as to 'perfect' his love with her?

Does he really love her? or merely crave sexually for her?

Has he been lying all this time? How?!

How can a liar shake and tremble as though an earthquake were underneath him?

How can a liar make up his throat to seem as If a dagger were cutting It?

She didn't know..!

Then he keeps quivering and she, until they feel as though their souls reached their throats. (4)

Thereupon, the sky thunders again, and the thunderbolt of thinking returns..

Can this liar not presently seduce her when he Is much stronger with no need for all of that?

And what If he Is sincere In what said, and will throw himself If he doesn't see her when turning?

Will she have killed him or saved herself?

And what If he Is sincere In what said, and will compel her to perfect his love with him If he sees her when turning? Will she have saved him or killed herself?

Is the mercy upon him to let him lead a life of torment In a worthless world, or to let him die so that he may rest In peace?

Is the mercy upon her to let him die and live after him with an endless pricking of conscience that would tear her soul apart? Or to let him live and extort her body, and to live soulless afterwards?

What a tragedy!

Every case leads to death!

The Inhabitants of the building were awakened to the sound of something hitting the ground.

They all crowded around what was previously a whole body, then It turned Into pieces of flesh and bones moving hither and thither.

A third one was added to the two suppositions of Sennine:

"Or you are real, and I am the one who has been Imagined..!"

(4): In Islam, It means that they were dying.

_____________________________