فيه ريبه , به خفايا و فيه شي من الخطوب
وشي اكبر من معاناة المفارق و النحيب
وشي ادنى من ارتباكات الغروب
ولا عاد نقرأ رسايل من ذكريات الغريب
حتى الساعي قال نسيتني الدروب
كان يكتب رتم قلبه في انتظاره للحبيب
كان هذا العام جاف لكن باطرافه حروب
كان شاخص , بليل دامس , مستريب
في عينه ريحة عطش,وغيمه في عينه تذوب
This year, we did not differ in it, something strange
There is suspicion, it has secrets, and there is something wrong with it
.
And something greater than the suffering of separation and wailing
And something less than the confusions of sunset
.
We no longer read letters from the stranger's memories
Even the postman said I have forgotten the paths
.
He was writing the rhythm of his heart waiting for the beloved
This year was dry, but with wars on its sides
.
It was visible, dark night, suspicious
There is a smell of thirst in his eyes, and a cloud in his eyes dissolves
.
.
ليست هناك تعليقات:
إرسال تعليق