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Ode to Ashta
By Roula-Maria Dib
Because of you
we are thirsty for water
and all other necessary pleasures
Cream curdling with salep
in the spirit of orange blossoms,
sweetened with reflections.
Freeze. You are humbly pounded into glory.
Ice stretches without breaking.
Like snow outlining the heads
of the mountain range bridging lands
unbound to binaries, you come in
frozen torches, pierced with Aleppo fields.
We praise every pistachio pebble
guarding the secret of your mystic mastic.
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