تَرَى بَعَرَ الْآرَامِ فِي عَرَصَاتِهَا
وَقِيعَانِهَا كَأَنَّهُ حَبُّ فُلْفُلِ
You see the droppings of white gazelles in the open spaces and level low ground of the abandoned camp, looking like peppercorns.
Rather than repeatedly saying the beloved has departed, the poet shows something made possible by abandonment: wild animals now pass freely through what used to be inhabited space.
Tarā, “you see,” makes the reader a witness. The description moves from object, to location, to comparison, constructing the image in deliberate steps.