In their eyes the stories
we’ve long forgotten –
animals in the wild
~
حتى بعد أن تستحم
تجد رائحتهُ
على بشرتها
~
Mon cœur
à chaque moment du jour
s’envole vers toi
~
وحيداً في الليل
لم يُبقِ الشعر مني
الا قلباً يرتجف
~
If I could choose
one place to touch you
it would be your heart
~
لو كان ليَ أن أختار
أن ألمُسَكِ في مكانٍ واحد
لاخترتُ قلبكِ
~
I do not write for readers; I do not write for the pleasure of writing; I write so I would not forget; I write to remember.
We do not know each other
yet the poem
has always connected us;
in a world of change
this poetry ebbing and flowing
between our hearts
is the only constant,
carrying secret messages
between our souls.
You and me
we’ve always had this conversation,
wordless and mystical,
formless and flowing with pure essence;
without beginning or end
we’ve always been wrapped
around each other,
and this pain that wounds our souls
is the evidence of the place
where we enter each other.
Now, in silence,
I send you this word
to travel on the wind
and find your lips.
Faith is not a belief in a fixed state or ideal; it is an open ended question that transforms the believer through the grace of love. Faith attains no finalities nor does it attach itself to any absolute security; it is a state of becoming; its altar is the world; its medium is love.
Sensibilisé par la poésie l’être aime profondément, avec passion et en totalité.
~
I do not write
I only feel my heart quiver
as I touch your face
~
In my mother’s hands
there’s always a seed
growing roots and leaves;
my mother’s hands are always green.
~
I woke up today
to find myself aging,
and you still
a voice echoing
in the distance,
somewhere far away.
~
Poetry is the heir of the mystical essence of religion.
~
The road to the world has always seemed to me to lead through a deep wood.
~
The poem gives me eyes to look at the world beyond my own death.
~
ضاعت بنا السبل
فانتهينا عاشقين
كلٌّ في بلد
نكتبُ الشعرَ ليلاً
ونحنُ ننظرُ إلى النجوم
علّنا نجدُ فيها شيئاً
من بريقِ الأملِ
Rooted in Love 