O windows of our night نوافذ ليل

انا متعب ......يا مساءي ......  يا مساااءت اللقاءااات البعيده  ..... يا مساءي ... يا نوافذ ليل ... يالذكريات العنيده  ..... انا متعب من كفاحي ..... يا مساءي .... لملم من بيدك جراحي ...الاكيده ..... الاكيده .... بلون دمي ...... ترسم من  شمسك  صباحي ..... ما تغير فيك شي  ..... ولا تغير شي فيني .... بعدني اشتاق اشوفه ... شفني ... يلوعني حنيني .... ما تغير شي فيني .... دمعتي تسبق هدب عيني اذا طاحت جفوني .... لاي كلمه عابره تلمس خفوقي  .... انا متعب يا مسااااااءي .... ليه تقصيني الى ابعد ظنوني ..... وانت تدري انهم يدرون بايامي البليده .... كم عصاني الدرب كم .... كم صرخت بعثرتي أناي قم  .....كم سقاني البعد هم ...و كم مره اصارع ذهولي ....وارجع انبت من افولي ..... وانتصرت وجيت .... وينك .... انت وينك ..... هات عمري من سنينك .... من مسيل الليل حبري .... من شوقي يفيض صدري ..... ما كتبت الا حنيني .... وحين تحاصرني الرزايا ... وحين يجرفني آسايا ..... ولا ريحني من عنايا ... ولا وصلت لشي ؟؟ ادري .... من اجلك عسفت صبري ..... له صهيل ٍ من نزيف .... له آآواه من نديف .... جسد منهك .... به بقايا من ضلوعي .... يشتكي لك فيك جوعي .... ما تنفستك ضباااااب .... ولاحضنتك يا سراااااب .... ما عرفت الا غيابك .... وغاب عطري من ثيابك ..... آآآآآآه يا قربك مساءي .... آآآآآآه يا ثقلك وفاءي .... كم سألت الليل ليه ..... يذهلني خوفي عليه .... يدهشني وارحل اليه .... ولا بدى لي منه ضو .... يبدو انه كان ناسي .... يشعل خفوقي واجيه .... في حواسي ....  فيني قوافل مآسي .... ما لفتني من عدم .... ماني متذكر ندم .... لولا انت ما احبك ..... كني ادور عليك ... غابت شمسي واحتريك .... كنت ناطر .... كنت ناطر شي فيني .... شي فيني .... يحتريني ..... اكشف اسرار انتظاري .... واقرا فيه ما تيسر من غموضه .... يرشدني  امشي اليه ... يتيهني  واسأل عليه ... اسأل عنه كل عابر ... كل صابر له حبيب ....عنه غايب فيه حاضر  .... شي فيني كنه  ينادي لطيف .... كريم يحتري  ضيف ..... واتذكرك ....كيف جابتنا الصدف .... وتحادثنا عن اقلامك .... عن اشعارك وعن كتابك الموعود .... ونسينا كل الصدف ... متى !!!!!   صدفه تلاقينا ... تلاقينا في نهارات الخواطر .... في سفح اوراق محكيه .... ثم خذانا الوقت بدري ... وفتحنا للتوق سيل ... واضوينا  نوافذ ليل .... كان الليل في عناق الروح صادق ....  في حكايات الخوافق .... وسهر معنا وضحك معنا ووفا معنا .... وبقا معيا .... ذكرني  رسوم منسيه ....رسوم تنادي على الفيا ... على الفيا ... على ظل  مشى معنا .... ركض معنا .... يركض حيا .... معه عانقنا  الاشجار .... وفي تغاريد  الاطيار .....تروي قصه لحكايتنا ... لبدايتنا ... لنهايتنا ...  واغانينا ..... كيف تعيدني لذكراك .... وترتل نوتتها بسمعي .... وصداها في السحب دمعي .... وقالت عني لك اشتاقك .... شفني وشكثر محتاجك ..... غريبه ؟؟؟ غريبه .... كيف تدريبي ولا مريت .... غريبه !!!! كيف ناديتك ولا رديت .... ادري يا قلبي البادي .... يسهر بك في تعاليله .... يجيبك لي بميعادي .... ويبكي لك وانا ابكي له .... نسيل يا كننا بوادي .... 

I am tired... my evening... my evening of distant meetings... my evening... my night windows... my stubborn memories... I am tired of my struggle... .. Oh my evening.... I collect my wounds from your desert... The certainty..... The certainty.... The color of my blood...... My morning is drawn from your sun..... Nothing has changed in you... .. And nothing has changed in me.... I still miss seeing him... Look at me... My nostalgia hurts me.... Nothing has changed in me.... My tears precede the eyelids when my eyelids fall.... When I hear a passing word You touch my heart.... I am tired, my evening.... Why do you exclude me to the furthest extent of my expectations..... And you know that they know about my dull days.... How much the path has disobeyed me.... How much I have screamed, how much I have scattered, my soul, arise... ..How many worries have caused me to feel the distance...And how many times have I struggled with my astonishment....And I grow back from my leaves.....And I triumphed and came....Where are you?...Where are you?...Give me back my life from your years. ... From the flow of the night, my ink.... From my longing, my chest overflows... I have written nothing but my nostalgia.... And when misfortunes besiege me... And when misfortunes sweep me away..... And do not give me relief from my troubles... nor Did you reach anything?? I know.... for your sake, I have abused my patience.... He has neighing from bleeding.... He has a groan of sores.... An exhausted body.... It has remnants of my ribs.... My hunger complains about you. ... I did not breathe you in fog.... nor did I hug you, oh mirage.... I only knew your absence.... and my perfume disappeared from your clothes..... Ahhh, your closeness, my evening.... Ahhh, your weight and my loyalty.... How many times I asked why the night... I am astonished by my fear for him.... He astonishes me and I leave for him.... and I do not want any light from him.... It seems that he was forgetting me.... He ignites my fear and he comes.... in my senses. ... There are caravans of tragedies in me.... Nothing caught me.... I don't remember regrets.... If it weren't for you, I wouldn't love you..... I was looking for you... My sun set and I was confused.... I was waiting. ... I was waiting for something within me.... Something within me.... Conceiting me.... Revealing the secrets of my waiting.... And reading into it whatever mysteries I can.... Guide me to walk to Him... Lose me and ask about Him. .. Ask every passerby about him... Every patient person has a lover... About him he is absent and present... Something in me is calling out to be kind... Generous and honorable as a guest... And I remember you... How coincidences brought us together ....and we talked about your pens....about your poetry and your promised book....and we forgot all the coincidences...when!!!!! It was a coincidence that we met... We met in the days of thoughts... At the foot of spoken leaves... Then early time took us... We opened a torrent of longing... And we lit up the windows of the night... The night was true in the embrace of the soul... In the stories of the Khawaf... He stayed up with us, laughed with us, and was loyal to us.... And he stayed with us.... He reminds me of forgotten drawings... Drawings that call out to the Al-Faya... to the Al-Faya... in a shadow that walked with us... He ran with us.... He ran alive.... With him we hugged the trees.... And in the songs of the birds... a story was told of our story... of our beginning... of our end... and our songs..... How do you bring me back? To remember you.... and her note recited in my hearing.... and its echo in the clouds was my tears.... and she said about me, I miss you.... see me and I need you so much.... a stranger??? Strange.... How did I train or pass.... Strange!!!! How did I call you or answer? I know that my emerging heart is watching over you with its prayers. It will bring you to me on time. It will cry for you and I will cry for it. We will flow, Oh, as if we were in the valley

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<ــــــــبكاءات فارهةـــــــــــــــ>

والله تعبنا I swear we are tired

رسائل ادبية Literary letters

ارتديت معطفي يا صديقتي وذهبت الى اطراف المدينة , تجنبت الزحام وابواق السيارات وصياح الباعة المحتلين الارصفة , لتجديد اوراقي مطلوب الف الف شاهد وصورتين حاسر الرأس وتحليل دمي , اسير بخطواة متمهلة , اجر تعبي ويدفعني للسير تعب آخر , ركنت سيارتي الغير مرخصه في ابعد مكان عن لا يلتفت اليها ضابط المرور , لديا رخصة قياده غير معترف بها ولا يحق لي الحصول على رخصة سوق لاي مركبه لانني مهجر و لاجيء , مضيت الى حيث كنت ذاهب وانهيت ماذهبت اليه بتعاطف من السادة و السيدات  المسؤلين عن شؤوني , عدت الى حيث ركنت سيارتي , جلست  خلف المقود وكالعاده اشعلت سيجارتي ودائما برفقتي قهوتي الساده ,جلست افكر الى اين سأذهب لقد ضجرت من ركني الهادي , الجو متقلب مابين دافىء وبارد لا يشجعني للدهاب للبراري ولا الى مكاني المعهود , اصدقاء  طفولتي لا ادري اين هم لقد اصبح كل واحد منهم تحت نجم , يمر بجانبي اناس كثيرون كلهم مشغولون باشياء لم تعد تشغلني , وها انت ِ تفلين ظفائر صغيراتك وتجدلين باناملك قصائد لؤلؤية , ها انا اعود الى ركني لازداد وحدة اتلمس تجاعيد وجهي والشيب يطفر ويحتل بخشونته سوادي الناعم يبدو اننا كلما كبرنا نزداد رقه لكننا نفكر بالرحيل لا ايدي تلوح لنا ولا ايدينا تصل الى اوجاعنا , لكن دعك ِ من هذا , اخبريني عنك عن الاشياء التي كانت تشغلك عن الاصدقاء اللذين كتبوا لنا وكتبنا عنهم ماهي احوالهم او مالذي فعلته بهم السنون , اعلم انك مشغوله وهذا يسرني 

I put on my coat, my friend, and went to the outskirts of the city. I avoided the crowds, the horns of cars, and the shouting of the vendors occupying the sidewalks. To renew my papers, I needed a thousand, thousand witnesses and two pictures, bareheaded, and to have my blood tested. I walked at a slow pace. My fatigue pushed me to walk with another fatigue. I parked my unlicensed car in the furthest place from... The traffic officer turns to her. I have a driver’s license that is not recognized and I am not entitled to obtain a driver’s license for any vehicle because I am an immigrant and a refugee. I went where I was going and finished what I had gone to with sympathy from the gentlemen and ladies responsible for my affairs. I returned to where I parked my car. I sat behind the car. I took the wheel, and as usual, I lit my cigarette, always with my black coffee. I sat thinking about where I was going. I was bored of my quiet corner. The weather fluctuated between warm and cold, not encouraging me to go to the wilderness or to my usual place. My childhood friends. I don’t know where they are. Each one of them has become under a star passing by me Many people are all busy with things that no longer occupy me and here you are  twisting the braids of your little ones and braiding with your fingertips pearly poems. Here I am returning to my corner to become more and more lonely. I feel the wrinkles of my face and the gray hair is spreading and occupying with its roughness my soft blackness. It seems that as we grow older we become more delicate, but we think of leaving. There are no hands to wave to us or Our hands reach into our pains, but let go of that. Tell me about yourself, about the things that kept you busy, about the friends who wrote to us and we wrote about them, what their conditions are or what the years have done to them. I know that you are busy, and this pleases me.

انا مكاني مكاني My place is my place