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In the middle of the night, when the breeze rests on the eyelashes of the dew and sleeps, I am staying up late... Your love and the regurgitation of memories have worn out my strength, and your ghost hovers in my imagination, oh Hajar, me and the night and the bitterness of your separation, staying up late, telling the heavens, staying up late, when our stories end and we meet the Bedouins, who make me yearn for the taste of sleep, and your ghost hovers in my imagination, oh Hajar, years have passed and years have gone by, you know and I know, and the situation is the same, and inside me is the echo of memories, and your wound, oh love of the soul, I am jealous for no time to heal, and your wound, no matter how long and jealous it is, is imprinted in me by nature, and between memory and oblivion there is a short distance, oh human being, if you try to remember, you will return to the past from the beginning, you will find time has changed our features, and we have remained who we are, and I am the one who is patient in the face of adversity, if time forgets you, I have not forgotten, or one day, time has been cruel to you, I have not been cruel. In the middle of the night, oh Hajar, I am staying up late