We don't paint to get a star back,
We capture it on paper and the interpretation of jurists.
Rather, let us read the divination of the days in the intersecting and parallel lines that do not meet.
_How do you allow, then, the steps of life and death on the same palm?
In the drawing we see that what is needed is the cities that gave birth to us,
We restore it and furnish it again
Including what we made in our cells behind the paycheck.

The light of nature will not restore the dew,
grunts,
Some gravel blocking the road
On banks whose mud misses us,
And her contentious quarreling, tender to her sadness,
Don't forget the margin,
Your reference and haven for fishing.

Draw masks:
The foliage that colors in the governor’s palace with the seasons,
It is a huge commodity in his market.
And in the deceiver too...
And the masks that are polished every Eid
And curses her face,
And the iron that corrodes after a while,
And the air thickens it.
Draw the air behind it
I reveal to you the owner of reassurance.
As for the golden masks; So beware of its glass.
It does not rust, and it will not be eaten by ants.
The meanness therein and the intrigue behind it will consume you.

Oh, you who are so reassuring, so beautiful, so appropriate,
Do not neglect your first mask if you replace it with another mask!
In addition to the conviction of numbered history and demand these days.

We draw to bring back our expatriate father beyond the borders,
behind the characters,
In caves and cemeteries,
Our neighbors are behind ajar doors and on rooftops
They allowed them one by one
And one by one...

_ Did you not draw?
_I drew him in the prince once,
She forgot it and wore the drawing
Yes,
We don't need to forget the coast, the coast of drowning
We are preoccupied with the abyssal depths that pulled us in.

We're leaving tomorrow
to memory,
The furthest thing from it.
_ To where?
_ To a place that no one else knows
_ from?
_ A Jew carves bowls and hides them under the threshold.
_We do not draw thresholds,
Rather, the knocks and what indicates the door or predicts what is behind it,
How many thresholds have betrayed their door!
_Don't say that, please!
Neither the roads nor the doors nor the thresholds betrayed their stones.
But the old, worn-out wooden blocks.
Don't forget the stairs while drawing clouds.

drawing stars,
That shines on the drunken surfaces with us,
And disappears into the shepherd's robe at dawn,
Ringing stars suspended in the embrace of dairy cows.

We do not draw potatoes because we need food,
We have been fed up with dry preaching about conflict since ancient times
He only destroys what resides in bodies
With hasty heavenly preaching.

We draw the future
We invite him to a bar in Abu Nawas.
We give him bitter Iraqi wisdom to drink and make him drunk.
We ask him what bothers us and disturbs us in his embrace:
_What is our crime?
_ Silence
_ What a trick we have when our tongue is foreign.
_ Cut him off
_how?
_From Al-Halqoum.

They drew the book and the heavens about to fall,
 Draw silk caravans
Passing or coming from the east:
A table with spices, bitter Yemeni yogurt, and dried cinnamon.
Black cumin is fertile,
Which has left us and has been long awaited.

_ It resulted in bandits blocking the convoys’ route
No spices or spices,
And no santour sings in homes,
And Baghdad deposed its imam.
And brothels are known to God.

We draw women to restore our mothers
People of chivalry and milk,
Good for us and our descendants.

Painting by Amir Khatib