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Sarai

From the February 1995 Print Edition

It feels like going mad, this following - The voice from the starry night, the tent pegs pulled, Camels tracking through a dusty haze, The dawn on unknown dunes-the hollowing Out of normal, ordinary days, Like meal poured from a sack, till now we hold Only the echoes of a voice. He told Us, Go . . . . Continue Reading »