Love Me Not, Mr. Snow
And since the baby was unnamed yet, I had no other choice but to use the original name too, twisting the pain inside me into a more heartbreaking degree.
I began to sing. The words flowed from me in a soft, calming melody, the Arabic lyrics filling the room. It was a simple lullaby, but one that held a world of meaning for me. The memories of my mother's voice, her warm embrace, and the comfort of her presence washed over me:
Oh Lord, Help Rima Sleep
Oh Lord, May she become sleepy
Oh Lord, May she grow loving to pray and to fast
Oh Lord, let her grow healthier everyday
May she go to sleep, may she go to sleep, and I will cook a delicious pigeon for her
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