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الاثنين، 26 أكتوبر 2020

الى اليانوفى ...... رسالة لم تكتب ........

 

And you ask about a letter that has not been written yet. It is unlikely that you will come, my beloved,I stretch my fingers to the keyboard and ask it: For whom are you writing?“Yanova ,” and the longing swells with your name ,My friend always repeats his songs about the sweet lily,But for me, every rose becomes a Halfeti rose. The lilac blossoms sing their song of you, And I carve my yearning into the trunks of the bay tree. It is unlikely that you will come, my beloved,Though the distance between us is short. Yet you appear alone in the shade of the linden,In the form of a March perfume,Like an April moonAnd a golden light. Perhaps you will come when my tragedy ends, To write upon my heart an elegy worthy of it. — Bridges of Infinity Aqel Al-Ayyash 2/6/2014


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