second two

And he came from afar, smelling of the desert...
Pure Arabic, nothing in it!
Skinny as a grain of wheat!
The flour of the legs is like a runner, but there is something in it that tells you that it has a race other than the races of people!
His white face miraculously survived the desert sun!
His back has a slight curvature as if he had been carrying something heavy on his shoulders all his life, but his piercing looks tell you that this burden no one else could have carried!
His beard is dyed with henna, turning to red, as if the sun, at the moment of sunset, found no other shelter for it!
His clothes are worn out, but the man has a tinge of ancient history!
I wanted to ask him: Who are you?!
But there are men in whose presence you lose your language, and he was one of them!
I stared at him for a long time, my silence shackled me, and my curiosity was killing me to know who he was, but he removed all this from me when he said: Peace be upon you.
His voice is sweet, as if the letters come out of Ismail's lap, not from his mouth.