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4
my smile hope,
my
ambition
pride,
and my humility shyness,
to my spirit father , I dedicate this work
5
Dedication
O' my love, I don't dedicate phantom ,
Yet, it is my soul and ardor of love,
It is posies of tears and smile,
some nectar from daisy of my soul,
I'm not used to disclosure to mankind,
Secrecy is always my overflowed joy,
misfortune rushed, I completely powerless,
my soul rattling and chocking with tears,
my heart amount ardent yearning,
revealing my solicitude and passion,
then my poetry sings,
all of my horizons of hopes,
became my own world,
its echo pervade my feelings,
you were granted poetry not,
to remain and stay ever silent.
6
The Evening Perfume
At the gate, he hugged me,
In that evening,
summer perfume,
bewildered, disconcerted me,
it took me by surprise .
I know not where,
it descended unexpectedly.
A gleam lit up brightly?
His impressive beauty,
Drew in my mind a face,
Like faces of nobility.
Making my soul bathed,
in ecstasy,
till fatigue.
********
A summer perfume confused me,
deeply embedded my inner feelings,
without permission invading my depths,
like a French autumn,
shaking off me,
falling out many thousands,
of my sorrows as leaves.
********
7
A summer perfume confused me,
Variegating me with candle's roses,
Refreshing me with rain's nectars,
Warming me in winter night,
Warming me with poetry's ardors.
At the gate he greeted me,
Pervading my inner soul,
Like a silvery song,
Followed by thirsty of seeing.
**********
Every evening confused me,
a face recurred memory,
indeed, I was deeply distressed,
when you travelled by night,
carrying with your luggage the perfume
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O, My Gentleman
In the East,
beauty of my lifeblood,
In the East.
all of my presence's wishes.
and my grandmother's memories .
*******
Look at! our magnificent palm trees,
and intently listen to speech,
of passionate in love beech,
about my grandmother's memories.
If the glad tidings of forenoon,
appear and draw nearer ,
and the sails again shimmer.
and its blissful port,
radiating as pearls there,
the beloved's ship getting near ,
leded by yearning and desire,
to the eyes of gazelle .
to the land,
to the safeguard.
*******
9
At Al-Areesh,
my grandma ,
chatting at night with henna,
on her kind palm.
wallowing perfumed nights.
in her virtuous garment.
******
When the evening draw near,
and our people's hearts hug light,
from the meeting's delight,
my grandma' eyes glisten,
as the moon at dark night,
*******
From her beauty,
You think she were a princess,
She is at her brilliant palace,
My grandma hasn't favored maid,
My grandma hasn't cozy bedspread,
Only possesses virtuous love,
Flushing cheeks with diffidence,
Only her noble name,
That became a cause célèbre,
That beautifies all ladies .
******
10
I've never seen like my grandma's garment,
That is a nice and nimble.
Flapping as clouds ,
That is lashing and pouring joy,
On the small tent,
and all the moons laughed,
in these illuminated nights.
*****
In the East,
My grandmother was powerful,
When a gale blows,
She is ever stoic ,
Even if the years come out with wounds,
Because O, my master- she is eastern,
And the east gives to the mankind light.
****
O, my master,
in the east a tent remains,
observing the stars rapturously ,
that is because of her sleeplessness,
kohl melt in her eyelids vigorously.
****
11
O, my master.
Tell me,
When eyes will kiss eyes?!
When eyes will kiss eyes?!
12
Do not Ask!
Do not ask , Oh, Aml,
Where are jewelries,
Where is the velvety scarf,
That is shinned in smart trinket ,
Where are the perfumes , emitting scent ,
at the foremost of the rooms,
that diffusing fragrance .
where is the mildness, happy mien,
and sensitivity ,oh ,Rahf.?
Do not ask , really, your grievous question,
Flaring up my grief,
Do not ask , oh my sister,
Hopes received the deathblow,
That buried oh, sister,
In my tender heart.
Because of my grief over him,
I replaced the carnation garment,
With the black garment .
And I sat weaving the flight of fancy,
And playing melody of agony,
Do not ask me, Aml,
Perhaps , it heals my sad soul,
Finding recreation from agony,
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I have brothers were eaten by,
Wicked war like dry stalks,
When it fared up,
They were stark naked,
Sleeping on ignominy,
On the hell.
The envious weapons of war,
Distorted them with smoke,
Agony chocked them to death,
They were thrown down,
To the depth of time,
How my soul could smile?
From where does my hope arise?
And the stars have stunted heart,
Neither illuminating nor setting.
Do not ask,
And your grievous question,
Was transfused by gale,
Into sea of my sorrows ,
Then blazing and burring.
Excerpt out of 44 pages
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Details
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- , 2012, RAHAF AL-MUBARAK's THE LIGHT TRACK AND BUNCHES OF LOVE, Hamburg, Bedey Media GmbH, https://www.anchor-publishing.com/document/295202
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