Zakaria Shahin
Was singing and caressing the strings like a mother tickles her newborn. He says he learned to sing from the trees when the wind caresses them. His immigrant neighbor writes:
And if the night is still
The strings do not calm down
Life goes on with us
Night drags day
It's as if the wind is caressing the trees..
Or that our world speaks to every path
Come on, give me a melody..
So that the breeze becomes an orphan in the house
Come on, give me a tune..
Recalls the notice
On the appointments I missed
Looking forward to the journey
You are the one who sang me and returned me home
It is a yard for jasmine. And for the ears
And the field blooms brightly
With your songs... The more the breeze blows and the strings caress ...
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