Kissa in the middle of a market

I will bring myself to a dangerous street 
where a man sits waiting to tell how swords
were drawn in the ancient cities of long ago
how blood spilled in the name of honour
and no one dared to say the word defeat
come heroes in the tongue of this hlaykia
the sands of time will bring us there
the man who is encircled in the square
will have a place in this afternoon
He will be making the snake charmers and their snakes listen
Enchanted by his words they forget who they
are right at the moment
and those who work will stop to take tea
this break is called the dusk of storytelling
and when he says the word 'sword'
everyone will wince as if they see how sharp
illuminating the silver metal drawn
stopping to the kissa of how the universe came to be
and how monsters were killed by strong men
and women knew what to say
when they are about to die in the hands
of sandstorms that are calmed
by the sound of a violin