Damascus: A Tale of Tears and Hope
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This poem is written by a longtime resident of the city of Damascus. The poem describes the horrors seen by this ancient city of Islam and concludes with the hope that the city will be resurrected again.
من لا يعرف ماهو البكاء | The one who does not know what is crying |
وليس في عينيه دموع | Whose eyes are void of tears |
يسيل في قلبه الصدأً وليس الدماء | Whose heart has rust and no blood |
من لايريد أن يبكي | And he doesn’t want to cry |
لأن دموعه لؤلؤٌ ثمين | because he deems his tears precious pearls |
فليعرّج على مدينتي | Then he should visit my city |
اسمها دمشق منذ الأزل | known as Damascus since time immemorial |
سيتذوق فيها الآن طعم الدموع | Soon he will taste the flavor of tears |
سيسيل ملحٌ مرُّ المذاق في العروق | The salty torrent will flow through his veins |
وسيذوب الصدأ | dissolving the rust |
وسيخفق القلب من جديد | causing the heart to beat anew |
بشفقةٍ لها طعمُ رعبٍ مخيف. | Full of pity mixed with horror |
سيخفق القلب من جديد لكن لبرهةٍ من الزمان | The heart will beat anew |
لبرهةٍ، ويستنفذ الرعبُ الدموع | But only for a moment |
لبرهةٍ، ويهوي القلب من جديد | In a moment tears will be exhausted |
يسكت القلب من جديد | The heart will fall silent again |
يتجمد الدم في العروق | The blood will freeze in the veins |
لأنّ الرعبَ شديد | Indeed the horror is severe |
الرعبُ شديد | The horror severe |
ياشام الياسمين وورد الشام | O’ Damascus of the jasmine and Damask roses |
هل ذبلت الورود؟ لا، بل ماتت. | Have your roses withered? |
ماتت كما مات الأطفال | No, they are dead |
وبقيت معلقةً بأصابع كالشموع | They are dead just as the children are dead |
منثورةٍ في شوارع البلد العتيق | The roses suspended between their fingers like candles |
شوارع الرعب | Scattered on the streets of this ancient city |
الرعب الشديد | Streets of horror |
ياقنابل ورصاص يطير | Severe horror |
إثر الندى | O’ bombs and bullets |
ونسمات كانت تعانق الورد والياسمين | You fly in the footsteps of dew |
ياقنابل ورصاص يجول | And the breezes which once hugged jasmine and roses in bloom |
عبر طرقات ألف ليلة وليلة | O’ bombs and bullets |
تنشرين البارود | You wander through the streets of a Thousand and One Nights |
ورحيق الرعب الشديد | Spreading gunpowder and the smell of horror |
هل هذه الليلة آخر الليالي؟ | Is this my last night? |
كم تود شهرزاد أن تغرق في البكاء | How Shehrazad aches to drown in tears |
لكن جفَّت في مآقيها الدموع | But her tears have dried |
أعمى الضبابُ العيون | And fog blinds her eyes |
وجمَّد الدماءَ في العروق. | Blood frozen in her veins |
شهرزاد ثمثالُ رعبٍ ورصاص | Shehrazad: a statue of lead and horror |
وألف ليلةٍ وليلةٍ من الرعب الشديد | A Thousand and One Nights of Horror |
بعيون لاترى وليس فيها دموع | With eyes that have no sight and no tears |
بقلوب لاتنبض والدمُ شحيح | With hearts that don’t beat and blood that is scarce |
مات ورد الشام ومات الياسمين | Dead are the jasmine and the Damask roses |
في حارات البلد العتيق | In the streets of old Damascus |
في عيون عنقاء | In the eyes of the phoenix |
ستنبعث من جديد. | It will be resurrected again. |
Nabil Mahaini is a graduate of the Academy of Fine Arts in Florence, and University of Social Studies in Rome. He is a novelist, translator, and film director. He has translated and published about 40 books from Italian to Arabic. He has directed several films and documentaries on the environment, some of which won awards in international and Arab festivals. Since 1983 he has been working as an expert at the International Fund for Agricultural Development - IFAD. He is now the IFAD Field Representative in Syria.
Topics: Conflicts And War, Damascus, Syria Values: Hope Channel: Poetry
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