Suddenly – a small fox, playful,
floods your wounded heart with joy
He searches your face with his singular gaze,
knows you’re at one with his vagabond stance

That very night I longed for you,
I missed your exquisite arousal,
I yearned for that moon we named together
After the squirrel had slipped off,
we needed nothing
but night, and the last dregs of wine

And as for me – I am drunk with thirst,
I am shaking with desire for you –
but here there’s not a fox to be found

Khartoum, 14 June 2006