بحبك أنا أكترْ.
محكية همست بها العاشقة..
محكية همست بها العاشقة..
يومين مش أكثر
قلتْ..
شو باك؟..
صرلي عمر بنطرْ
على الشباكْ..
مرقت سنة وما جيتْ..
بتتذكرْ..
ولا يوم عني كنت تتأخرْ..
كان المسا بركة حبر..
وكان المدى دفترْ..
بكتب على سطور الهوى
بحبك أنا..
وتكتب يا قلبي.. شو حلو
بتكتب أنا أكترْ.
يومين مش أكترْ..
ضاق المدى..
وخط الصدى تكسّـرْ..
وقت المسا ما ببنامْ..
بتأثرْ..
كلما مرق ع خيال صوتك
كذبك وخبّـرْ...
كلما حكت للريح هالبوم القصص
تصير الغصصْ..
أشكال تتصورْ..
شو نسيتني ..
نسيت الهوى..
شو باكْ؟..
يمكن بعد ما نسيتني أنساكْ..
يمكن ما عاد الشوق إتذكرْ..
بخزّق أنا كل الصور..
كل الشعر..
وبخزّقْ الدفترْ.
يومين مش أكترْ..
ومَرقِ العمر..
وبنطر على الشباكْ..
يمكن حدا غيرك يجي..
يقول لو وهم وكذبْ
بحبك أنا أكترْ.
by: Mardouk Alshami..
“I love you more..!”
A Tale whispered by a Lady-Lover..
"Two days, not more.."
You said..
What’s happening to you..?
I was waiting for ages..
At my window..!
A year passed, while you didn’t show..
Don't you recall..?
Never once, you had been late..
Our night was a pool of ink..
Our time was my diary..
Written by lines of fancy..
“How I love you..!”
Darling; how sensational were your words..
But; I had written more..!
"Two days, not more.."
My time shortened..
My echo disarrayed..
At night; I sleep no more..
I got emotional..!
Whenever your image comes across..
Your lies, so your tales..
My days would tell the wind..
Stories that become chocked agonies..
Thoughts that turn realities..
Did you forget me..?
Did you forget our love..?
What’s happening to you..?
Maybe shall forget you too..?
Maybe the love vanishes..?
I shall burn all images..
All the poems..
I shall burn my diary too..!
"Two days, not more.."
The life already ages away..
Maybe someone else would pass-by..
Yet; I shall wait at my window..
He would tell me an imaginable lie..
He would tell me an imaginable lie..
“I love you more..!”
In this wonderful piece of poetry, a tale about the contemporary Arabic culture, which is widely affected by confusing socioeconomic realities and constraints.. Those who had to flee for a manageable future; while have to abandon their inno...cence and merits behind.. Those are still awaiting for broken promises and burnt dreams.. Those who seize the chances, touching the open wounds and bleeding hearts.. Those who can’t hear or feel the words any more..!
ReplyDeleteI guess it is more than an Arabic interpretation.. it is a global one..
Greetings to the brilliant poet.. Mardouk Alshami
For the “Feminists” who would read patriarchy and masculine within the context; I would urge for calm read about the foundations of Arabic Culture..
ReplyDeleteI believe that your both rivals are not recipes for back-warding and suppression, but elements of support and solidarity.. Always females were capable to paint the world with their own preferred beautiful colors..
Integration was the name of the game, rather than hysterical competitions over ridiculous details..
Some poorly-questioned preaches had turned the peaceful world of yesterday into the restless one of today..!!
Only Allah swt knows about the unpredicted tomorrow..!
Adil