Dr. Zakaria Shahin
It's another night
Don't let the waterwheels wait
I had moved away from the old songs
And thrown into the deep well... My grandfather's heritage
And the echo of the stories that I still...
I remember her
And a cloak/ In which
I gathered all the laughter of the women of our neighborhood
I gathered in it..
Supplications to the old man of the neighborhood that dried up..
Its paths The sighs of our neighbor As soon as love came to her Until it disappeared in the journey..
This is her boy,,,
She invited him to the guesthouse's offices..
He didn't come!!
She kept sewing a dress for her wedding
And this wedding too.
He didn't come!!
I gathered all the sad/funny things
I crossed a journey
I am the one stunned in the language of God with passion..
And I folded a book of my ghostly love braids in the wall of the city
I believed/that time is the artery of our crossing
I secretly took pleasure in fulfilling the vow/
When I first glimpsed the connection.. In a time of estrangement
I gathered my questions!!
I am a child.. The nakedness received him and he did not die From the sap of this refuge
I came My grandfather was a sailor
And my uncle was a soldier
And my school/ A hymn above which is a flag And a sultan And a jailer And walls enclose us/
And the greenness of our pastures
And our stream chronicles The extension of the beginning
And from the first moment of this universe..
It does not tire
And a coffee pot in the corner
A narrator.. bid farewell to the seventies
And a neighbor,, reminiscing about yesterday,, reading us his stories
And our neighbor/
stares into the eyes of illusion
And travel/
And a memory inside her..
And it does not run out
I am a child In the past/ I had a house..
And papers
I hide My girl Waiting for her near the eastern entrance to the neighborhood
And my mother She mends the clothes/
She glances at me/
She hides me if I sin/
She begs my father's eyes,,
So he forgives me/ Then I sin/
Then the slander comes to him/ This child steals the eyes of a woman,,
And my grandfather says proudly.. He used to twirl his mustache A child, not all men
I am a child I remembered the battles/
And the trembling of the wind/
The smoke of the fires
I saw the barriers of the enemies
Preventing me to my mother..
And my school Its upper roof has fallen In pieces
And the playground is torn Our newspapers
are crumbling Our poems Dust in the wind
We gathered it.
we did not get tired My friend.
He no longer used to preach in the rubble of evenings Our teacher
The soldiers came to him/ one day/
he did not return
And my face.. is violated on the travel cards
I am a child
I come today from a time/
whose clubs pursue me
He consoles me Comrades whose provisions are a homeland/
and stones and a rifle The neighing of the sun unites us
In our nights, pain is remembered
And when the martyrs depart,
we will not cry
We fill the rock's panting with oil for the lamps that Their joints have dried up
We have shattered Sails in the deserts of nothingness
Our blood is filled in factory bottles
As if our graves were Planted on the land of diaspora/
Distributed Between the difficult distances and paths
The clouds have dried up/
Our dreams have been restless
The goods have fallen/
Discussed in the evening tea It is another night/
The crowds wondered For her love,
a spring's conjunctivitis Stretched out in reverence Noise/
Mob/ A time of scorpions..
Yemen relatives
A time of drums
and fragments Of ears of wheat torn by the wind..
A neighbor who makes blood permissible/
A gallows Awareness of the zero moment that will come A hand hoping for rain
A string on the flesh of the cross/His lips clotted..
A worm in the bark of the voice/
A murmur to the sound of the wheels that..
Sweetens the false confession on the nights of confession
It is another night And lean years My heart,
the promise came/
Leaning/ On the harshness of the story
So weave your cloak/
The cold of time This promise is a promise
And let the waterwheels rest