...
《▪︎زمان الصمت ولى في غزة▪︎ 》
اواه !!!!من زمن الصمت مات... فيه الضمير والعدل..غاب او قد..... انتحر
حل وباء التخاذل على أرض.العروبة هدم.وقتل ودماء.تسقي.الثرى..كالنهر
ولبست الرجولة ثوب العار ...والعزة رحلت وحلت النذالة باللهو...والسمر
اين.النخوة.والعزة.؟!.أضاعوها وحل الخوف والخضوع ضيفا على... البشر
وجعلوا للأعداء.هيبة صارت. وطبعوا فازداد العذاب والخسة... وكثر القهر
أين مملكة الفضيلة وصرخات الجياع ودموع الاطفال.والثكالى... بها جهر
اواه!!! من دموع الرجال الرجال حين الاستغاثة تذوب روحها كثلج بالمطر
النواح والنداء.يعلو لكن.من... حولهم صم بكم عمي وكانهم في.... صحر
عقولهم.. كالطبل. بات الصوت.. فيها داء بلا دواء.....يا بشر إذا بقي... بشر
ياأمه..حملت رسالة الرحمة ....فاين انتم..؟ورسولنا ..... خير .من..... ذكر
الفجر ...يصيح الا من قادم يلبي نداء الصابرين..ويحلق في ضوء.... القمر
الا من معتصم منجد رضع ....الشهامة والعزة ....يخلع ثوب الذل.... والحذر
بكينا على امة يعرب اين انت.. ضللت ام ناخت عزائمكم..وغزة تقدح.شرر؟!
هل نسيتم يوم الحشر حين... يسألكم الله يذوب اديم وجوهم ..في صقر؟!!
دقي يا أجراس .كبري يا مآذن القدس قدسنا مهما طال الزمان.يوما او.دهر
ايا فارس غزة عيناك لن تمسهما النار فهي حارس في الله تتحدى.... القهر
اسأل الفرقدين أين بواسل غزة تقول هم فوق الشمس والنجوم ..و القمر؟!
هم البركان لا يخمده أفاك.... مغتصب سارق حتى ضحكة الأطفال في خطر
يا صناديد غزة حملتم وزر امة صمت التخاذل فاسقيتم شراب شرف للبشر
توجوا غزة فهي الشجاعة.... والندى وقل اهلا بالفوارس قد اسقوا الشجر
ايها العرب لا تحاولوا.كسر ظهر.. غزة فظهرها صلب قوة.الفولاد... والصخر
لن تخلع جذورك غزة فجذورك.. قوية سقيت.بماء المكرمات الى يوم الحشر
✍️ بقلم الشاعرة د.عطاف الخوالدة
... 《The time of silence is over in Gaza》 Oh!!!! Since the time of silence, conscience and justice have died...absent or have committed suicide. The epidemic of failure has spread to the land. Arabism has been demolished. It has been killed and blood has been watered. Wealth... is like a river, and manhood has put on the garment of shame... and pride has gone, and villainy has replaced amusement... and brown people, where is the chivalry and pride?! They lost it, and fear and submission have become guests of... humans, and they have given the enemies prestige. And they obeyed, and the torment and meanness increased... and oppression increased. Where is the kingdom of virtue, the cries of the hungry, and the tears of children and the bereaved... in which there is an outburst of grief!!! From the tears of men, when men call for help, their souls melt like snow in the rain. The wailing and the calling get louder, but... those around them are deaf, dumb, and blind, as if they are in... the desert of their minds... like a drum. The voice has become.. There is a disease without a cure..... O human beings, if it remains... Human beings, O mother.. You carried the message of mercy.... So where are you..? And our Messenger..... is better than..... The remembrance of dawn...he shouts, except for the one who comes who responds to the call of the patient...and soars in the light of...the moon, except for Mu'tasim, upholstering infants...chivalry and pride...he takes off the garment of humiliation...and caution. We wept over a nation that expresses where. Have you gone astray or betrayed your resolve? And Gaza is igniting sparks?! Have you forgotten the Day of Judgment when... God asks you to make the skin of their faces melt... into a falcon?!! Ring, oh bells. Be proud, oh minarets of Jerusalem. Sanctify us, no matter how long it takes. A day or an eternity. O Persian, Gaza. Your eyes will not be touched by fire. They are guarded by God. They challenge... oppression. Ask the two groups, where are the brave men of Gaza? You say they are above the sun and the stars... and the moon?! They are a volcano that will not be extinguished by your avatars.... A rapist steals. Even the laughter of children is in danger. You sandals of Gaza. You have borne the burden of a nation. The silence of failure. You have given people a drink of honor. Crown Gaza for it is courage.... and the dew. And say welcome to the knights. They have watered the trees. O Arabs. Do not try. Break my back. .. Gaza, its back is solid, strong. Steel... and the rock will not uproot your roots. Gaza, your roots.. are strong. They have been watered with the water of noble things until the Day of Judgment, written by the poet Dr. Etaf Al-Khawaldeh. ♕♕♕♕♕♕♕♕♕♕♕♕♕♕♕♕
بالأمس نظرت إلى البحرفلم أجد له نهايه فذاك حبي لك وطعمت ماءه فوجدته مالحا فذاك عمري بدونك واقتربت من أمواجه فوجدتها مضطربه فذاك قلبي الهائم لرؤيتك وأخيرا حاولت الغوص فيه فوجدته غدارا وهذا مالم أجده فيك( عامر احمد)
Yesterday I looked at the sea and could not find an end to it. That is my love for you. I tasted its water and found it salty. That is my life without you. I approached its waves and found them turbulent. That is my heart wandering to see you. Finally, I tried to dive into it and found it treacherous. This is what I did not find in you (Amer Ahmed) ♕♕♕♕♕♕♕♕♕♕♕♕♕♕♕♕
... 《The time of silence is over in Gaza》 Oh!!!! Since the time of silence, conscience and justice have died...absent or have committed suicide. The epidemic of failure has spread to the land. Arabism has been demolished. It has been killed and blood has been watered. Wealth... is like a river, and manhood has put on the garment of shame... and pride has gone, and villainy has replaced amusement... and brown people, where is the chivalry and pride?! They lost it, and fear and submission have become guests of... humans, and they have given the enemies prestige. And they obeyed, and the torment and meanness increased... and oppression increased. Where is the kingdom of virtue, the cries of the hungry, and the tears of children and the bereaved... in which there is an outburst of grief!!! From the tears of men, when men call for help, their souls melt like snow in the rain. The wailing and the calling get louder, but... those around them are deaf, dumb, and blind, as if they are in... the desert of their minds... like a drum. The voice has become.. There is a disease without a cure..... O human beings, if it remains... Human beings, O mother.. You carried the message of mercy.... So where are you..? And our Messenger..... is better than..... The remembrance of dawn...he shouts, except for the one who comes who responds to the call of the patient...and soars in the light of...the moon, except for Mu'tasim, upholstering infants...chivalry and pride...he takes off the garment of humiliation...and caution. We wept over a nation that expresses where. Have you gone astray or betrayed your resolve? And Gaza is igniting sparks?! Have you forgotten the Day of Judgment when... God asks you to make the skin of their faces melt... into a falcon?!! Ring, oh bells. Be proud, oh minarets of Jerusalem. Sanctify us, no matter how long it takes. A day or an eternity. O Persian, Gaza. Your eyes will not be touched by fire. They are guarded by God. They challenge... oppression. Ask the two groups, where are the brave men of Gaza? You say they are above the sun and the stars... and the moon?! They are a volcano that will not be extinguished by your avatars.... A rapist steals. Even the laughter of children is in danger. You sandals of Gaza. You have borne the burden of a nation. The silence of failure. You have given people a drink of honor. Crown Gaza for it is courage.... and the dew. And say welcome to the knights. They have watered the trees. O Arabs. Do not try. Break my back. .. Gaza, its back is solid, strong. Steel... and the rock will not uproot your roots. Gaza, your roots.. are strong. They have been watered with the water of noble things until the Day of Judgment, written by the poet Dr. Etaf Al-Khawaldeh.
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بالأمس نظرت إلى البحرفلم أجد له نهايه فذاك حبي لك وطعمت ماءه فوجدته مالحا فذاك عمري بدونك واقتربت من أمواجه فوجدتها مضطربه فذاك قلبي الهائم لرؤيتك وأخيرا حاولت الغوص فيه فوجدته غدارا وهذا مالم أجده فيك( عامر احمد)
Yesterday I looked at the sea and could not find an end to it. That is my love for you. I tasted its water and found it salty. That is my life without you. I approached its waves and found them turbulent. That is my heart wandering to see you. Finally, I tried to dive into it and found it treacherous. This is what I did not find in you (Amer Ahmed)
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أنت قهوتى وخمرى
بقلمى منصور أبو عبدالله
****************
أنتى كالقهوة خاص مذاقها
ومع كل رشفة يزيد عشقها
وليس كل الناس تعرف قدرها
فالقهوة عشق يصعب تركها
***********
أنا أعشق المظبوط وهى تعشقنى
وإن غبت عنها يوما أراها تطلبنى
انتى قهوتى التى أراها فتضبطنى
وعلى قدر عشقى لها فهى تعشقنى
***********
تغيبين عنى فيبحر العقل تيها
وينبشه موج الشوق بين اه وايها
غيابك يمزق أوردتى و يدميها
بكى تبدأ أسفارى وبعدك ينهيها
***********
أصبحت كخمر يسكرنى لقياها
وعقلى يذهب منى ان يوما رأها
عشقتها ولن أعشق يوما سواها
امرأة ملكت قلبى وقلبى يهواها
***********
أبحر فى الكلمات دوما لالقاها
لعل السطور يوما تخبرنى بهواها
ولعلها تخبرها كلماتى وتلمع عيناها
وعندما أرسو على شط أنول رضاها
************
على شفا فنجان قهوتى ترقص شفتاها
فأرتشف ببطئ لعلى أتذوق هواها
مهما غابت فلن يغيب عنى ذكراها
وهل لمثلى ان يهجر مثلها او يسلاها
*************
بقلمى منصور أبو عبدالله
أنت قهوتى وخمرى
You are my coffee and my wine Written by Mansour Abu Abdullah **************** You are like coffee, its taste is special, and with every sip its love increases, and not all people know its value, for coffee is a love that is difficult to abandon ********* ** I love the right thing, and she loves me, and if I am away from her one day, I see her asking for me. You are my coffee that I see, and she controls me, and as much as I love her, she loves me. *********** You are absent from me, and the mind wanders lost, and the waves of longing between it and her are swept up by it. Your absence tears up my veins. He makes her cry so that my travels begin, and after you he ends them *********** I have become like wine, the sight of her intoxicates me, and my mind goes away from me. One day I saw her, I fell in love with her, and I will never love anyone other than her, a woman who owned my heart, and my heart loves her *********** Sail in Words are always for me to deliver, perhaps the lines will one day tell me her love, and perhaps my words will tell her, and her eyes will shine, and when we land on the shore, I will receive her satisfaction ************ On the brink of my cup of coffee, her lips dance, so I sip slowly, so that I may taste her passion, no matter how absent she is, I will never forget her memory. Is there anyone like me? To abandon someone like her or entertain her ************* Written by Mansour Abu Abdullah You are my coffee and my wine ♕♕♕♕♕♕♕♕♕♕♕♕♕♕
You are my coffee and my wine Written by Mansour Abu Abdullah **************** You are like coffee, its taste is special, and with every sip its love increases, and not all people know its value, for coffee is a love that is difficult to abandon ********* ** I love the right thing, and she loves me, and if I am away from her one day, I see her asking for me. You are my coffee that I see, and she controls me, and as much as I love her, she loves me. *********** You are absent from me, and the mind wanders lost, and the waves of longing between it and her are swept up by it. Your absence tears up my veins. He makes her cry so that my travels begin, and after you he ends them *********** I have become like wine, the sight of her intoxicates me, and my mind goes away from me. One day I saw her, I fell in love with her, and I will never love anyone other than her, a woman who owned my heart, and my heart loves her *********** Sail in Words are always for me to deliver, perhaps the lines will one day tell me her love, and perhaps my words will tell her, and her eyes will shine, and when we land on the shore, I will receive her satisfaction ************ On the brink of my cup of coffee, her lips dance, so I sip slowly, so that I may taste her passion, no matter how absent she is, I will never forget her memory. Is there anyone like me? To abandon someone like her or entertain her ************* Written by Mansour Abu Abdullah You are my coffee and my wine
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ميلاد بائع
...........
قصة قصيرة بقلم صابر حجازى
إنها القاهرة........
وهذه هى المرة الأولى التى أزورها ، إنها كما قالوا عنها .. مزدحمة ، واسعة ، جميلة ، سيول السيارات من هنا وهناك ، كبارى ، زحام ، مبانٍ شاهقة ، متاجر ، فتيات (المكياج) الفاقع ، النشالون ، والمترو .
لا أدرى أي طريق أتخذه إلى سور (السيدة ) حيث سوق الكتب القديمة والحديثة ذات السعر الزهيد ، عددٌ من أصدقائى جاءوا إلى السور وأخبرونى بذلك ولكن كيف أصل إلى هناك
هذا الرجل .. سأسأله :-
-من فضلك من أين أستطيعُ الوصول إلى السيدة زينب ؟
- انظرْ هناك أسفل الكوبرى يوجد موقف (للأتوبيس ) مكتوب عليه المكان الذى يذهب له
- أين بالتحديد.. ؟ فأنا
قاطعنى ..
-هناك أسفل هذا الكوبرى
وفى سرعة البرق ورغم سيل السيارات كان فى الجانب الآخر من الميدان
******
فى المحطة .. جاء (أتوبيس) مكتوب عليه السيدة زينب ورغم الحشد الهائل من الأجساد استطعتُ أن أقذف بنفسى فيه.. و إذا بصوت من خلفى :
-حاسب يا ابن الـ...
أنت حمار..
يا أفندى عيب
... مفيش فكة ..
أخيراً وصلت إلى السيدة ..وفى المسجد شعرت براحة عميقة كان الوقت صلاة العصر
فصليت ودعوت كثيراً
و أمام المسجد كان البائعون فى صف واحد وأعدادٌ هائلة من الكتب ، وكأننى ورقة فى مهب العاصفة ، كان انتقالي من بائع إلى آخر ، غرقت تماماً بين أكوام الكتب ، اشتريت .. و اشتريت .. و اشتريت ، وكأننى إنسان كان يسير فى صحراء وإذا به يجد نبع ماء يروى عطشه
*****
وعند أحد البائعين...
-بكم هذا الكتاب ؟
نظر لى كأننى مخلوق من كوكب آخر ، ثم إلى الكم الهائل من الكتب والذى ضممته إلى صدرى غير ما حملته فى كيس ..
-خمسة جنيه يا أستاذ
-لماذا ..؟ إن أوراقه صفراء ، تكاد تتمزق من لمسها ، جنية واحد فقط
- كيف إنه كتاب نادر ؟ ، لن تجد مثله فى السوق ولكن من أجلك بــ 3 جنية
-قلت : جنيه
اتفقنا...والله لو لم يكن الوقت قد تأخر لما كنت أبيعه بهذا السعر-
وضعت يدى فى جيبى لأخرج النقود ، لم أجد شيئا سوى بعض من (الفكة ) ، فصرخت كأننى في حالة صاعقة كهربية
-يا نهار .. الفلوس خلصت !!
جذب البائع الكتاب منى .. وقال :
-غداً اشتريه يا أستاذ نريد أن نغلق
وانشغل عنى فى جمع الكتب التى أمامه، ولكن كيف لى أن أعود ، إننى غريب هنا ، ونقودى انتهت .. هكذا حدثت نفسى ، إذاً ليس هناك سوى أن أعيد بعض الكتب التى معى إلى البائعين ، ورجعت إلى بائع ..ثم آخر .. ثم ثالث ..كلهم قالوا
(جاى تبيع الماء فى حارة السقايين!!!)
يا إلهى ..........ماذا أفعل الآن وقد بدأت خيوط النهار فى الانسحاب كيف سأعود ، ماذا أفعل ، من أين لى بنقود ؟..
نعم ..لقد وجدت الحل .. يا لها من فكرة رائعة .. مازالت الساعة السادسة ولا بد أن الناس لن ينقطعوا عن الميدان .. سوف أنظم الكتب .. أمامى ،
وبصوت منغم يكون النداء
-كتب كتب للبيع
.....
The Birth of a Salesman ........... A short story by Saber Hegazy It is Cairo........ and this is the first time I have visited it. It is as they say about it... crowded, spacious, beautiful, streams of cars from... Here and there, bridges, crowds, tall buildings, shops, bright (makeup) girls, pickpockets, and the metro. I do not know which way to take to Sur (Al-Sayyida), where the market for old and modern books is at a low price. A number of my friends came to the Sur and told me about this, but how do I get there, this man.. I will ask him: - - Please, where can I get to Al-Sayyida Zainab? - Look, there is a stop at the bottom of the bridge (for the bus) with the place it goes to written on it - Where exactly..? So he interrupted me.. - There at the bottom of this bridge, at lightning speed, and despite the stream of cars, it was on the other side of the square ****** at the station.. A (bus) with Sayyida Zainab written on it came, and despite the huge crowd of bodies, I was able to throw myself into it. And then a voice came from behind me: “Calculate, son of Al... You are a donkey... You are a shameful Effendi... There is no change... Finally I reached the lady... and in the mosque I felt a deep sense of comfort. It was the time of the afternoon prayer, so I prayed and said many supplications in front of the mosque. The sellers were in one row with huge numbers of books, and it was as if I were a leaf in a storm. I was moving from one seller to another, completely drowning among the piles of books. I bought... and bought... and bought, as if I were a person who was walking in a desert and found a spring of water. He quenches his thirst ***** and at one of the sellers... -How much is this book? He looked at me as if I were a creature from another planet, then at the huge amount of books that I held to my chest other than what I carried in a bag.. - Five pounds, Professor - Why..? Its leaves are yellow, almost torn from being touched, only one fairy - how is it a rare book? You will not find anything like it in the market, but for you for 3 pounds - I said: 1 pound, agreed... By God, if it had not been too late, I would not have sold it at this price - I put my hand in my pocket to take out the money. I did not find anything except some change. So I screamed as if I was being electrocuted - Oh day, the money is gone!! The seller took the book from me and said: Tomorrow I will buy it, Professor. We want to close, and he was busy collecting the books in front of him. But how can I return? I am a stranger here, and my money has run out. This is what I told myself. So, there is no choice but to return some books. The one I had went to the sellers, and I returned to one seller..then another..then a third..they all said (She is coming to sell water in the Saqayyin Lane!!!) Oh my God.........what should I do now that the daylight has begun? In withdrawal, how will I return, what should I do, where do I get money?.. Yes.. I found the solution.. What a wonderful idea.. It is still six o’clock and people must not stop coming to the square.. I will organize the books.. in front of me, In a melodious voice, the call is - Books, books for sale... ♕♕♕♕♕♕♕♕♕♕♕♕♕
The Birth of a Salesman ........... A short story by Saber Hegazy It is Cairo........ and this is the first time I have visited it. It is as they say about it... crowded, spacious, beautiful, streams of cars from... Here and there, bridges, crowds, tall buildings, shops, bright (makeup) girls, pickpockets, and the metro. I do not know which way to take to Sur (Al-Sayyida), where the market for old and modern books is at a low price. A number of my friends came to the Sur and told me about this, but how do I get there, this man.. I will ask him: - - Please, where can I get to Al-Sayyida Zainab? - Look, there is a stop at the bottom of the bridge (for the bus) with the place it goes to written on it - Where exactly..? So he interrupted me.. - There at the bottom of this bridge, at lightning speed, and despite the stream of cars, it was on the other side of the square ****** at the station.. A (bus) with Sayyida Zainab written on it came, and despite the huge crowd of bodies, I was able to throw myself into it. And then a voice came from behind me: “Calculate, son of Al... You are a donkey... You are a shameful Effendi... There is no change... Finally I reached the lady... and in the mosque I felt a deep sense of comfort. It was the time of the afternoon prayer, so I prayed and said many supplications in front of the mosque. The sellers were in one row with huge numbers of books, and it was as if I were a leaf in a storm. I was moving from one seller to another, completely drowning among the piles of books. I bought... and bought... and bought, as if I were a person who was walking in a desert and found a spring of water. He quenches his thirst ***** and at one of the sellers... -How much is this book? He looked at me as if I were a creature from another planet, then at the huge amount of books that I held to my chest other than what I carried in a bag.. - Five pounds, Professor - Why..? Its leaves are yellow, almost torn from being touched, only one fairy - how is it a rare book? You will not find anything like it in the market, but for you for 3 pounds - I said: 1 pound, agreed... By God, if it had not been too late, I would not have sold it at this price - I put my hand in my pocket to take out the money. I did not find anything except some change. So I screamed as if I was being electrocuted - Oh day, the money is gone!! The seller took the book from me and said: Tomorrow I will buy it, Professor. We want to close, and he was busy collecting the books in front of him. But how can I return? I am a stranger here, and my money has run out. This is what I told myself. So, there is no choice but to return some books. The one I had went to the sellers, and I returned to one seller..then another..then a third..they all said (She is coming to sell water in the Saqayyin Lane!!!) Oh my God.........what should I do now that the daylight has begun? In withdrawal, how will I return, what should I do, where do I get money?.. Yes.. I found the solution.. What a wonderful idea.. It is still six o’clock and people must not stop coming to the square.. I will organize the books.. in front of me, In a melodious voice, the call is - Books, books for sale...
♕♕♕♕♕♕♕♕♕♕♕♕♕
أحبك
بقلم جميلةرمضان
أٌحبك وحبك بالقلب باقي
أحبك ويخفق قلبي
دوماباشتياقي
أحبك مادام في القلب
نبض وتناوب الليل والنهار ساري
احبك مادمت حيا
وسفينتي ترسو
للقياك
احبك وروحي تهذي باسمك
فما اسماه من
حب راقي
فإن توقف نبض
قلبي يوما َ
هواك حاضر
دون فراقي
سكنت روحي
لاتغادر فعشق
الروح باقي
بقلم جميلة رمضان سوريا
في٧/٩/٢٠٢٤
I love you, written by Jamila Ramadan. I love you and your love remains with the heart. I love you and my heart always beats. I miss you. I love you as long as the heart beats and the alternation of day and night is valid. I love you as long as I am alive and my ship is anchored to meet you. I love you and my soul ravens about your name. What is it called of refined love? If one day my heart stops beating, your love is present without my separation. You reside in my soul. Do not leave. The love of the soul Baqi written by Jamila Ramadan Syria on 9/7/2024 ♕♕♕♕♕♕♕♕♕♕♕♕♕
I love you, written by Jamila Ramadan. I love you and your love remains with the heart. I love you and my heart always beats. I miss you. I love you as long as the heart beats and the alternation of day and night is valid. I love you as long as I am alive and my ship is anchored to meet you. I love you and my soul ravens about your name. What is it called of refined love? If one day my heart stops beating, your love is present without my separation. You reside in my soul. Do not leave. The love of the soul Baqi written by Jamila Ramadan Syria on 9/7/2024
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بعيد عن كثيركل لغط الكلام
والخلط بين مختلف الافهام
من يقولون هذابدعه وحرام
ومن يقول هو احتفال تمام
أمرالله لناعليه صلاه وسلام
على نبينا محمد خير الانام
فى كل يوم خمس بالتمام
دوما على مرالليالي والأيام
فى كل صلاه نصليهاباحكام
وبدون الصلاه عليه بالتزام
لاتقبل صلاتنا على الدوام
الابالصلاه عليه واتم السلام
لكن للبشر بالجدال اهتمام
فى هذا الموضوع كل عام
لكنه ليس بالحلوى سيقام
بل بأحياء سننه بالاحترام
نطبقها بكل مجال يا أنام
نحكى تاريخه لكل العوام
كفانا فرقه وكفانا انقسام
لنحفظ مجد دين الإسلام
ونعيش حياتنابالهناء التام
عودة لرشدكم نحيا بسلام
لنسودالامم ويعودلناالوئام
اختفائنا به أمرآلهى ياكرام
بنص الدين لله صلاه وسلام
عليه من الله والملائكه الكرام
تركنا النواهى والأمور العظام
تستشرى بلا قيود بين الأنام
ولم نجادل بحرمتهاكأننا نيام
زاد الفحش لم نقول هذاحرام
اللهم نسألك رداجميلاللاسلام
ولانختلف بين احلال اوحرام
اللهم صلى وسلم وزد السلام
على خير خلقك للانبياء ختام
.......سليم عواد الحويطى
.........شاعر.الباديه مصر
Away from all the confusion of speech and confusion between different understandings. Those who say this is heresy and forbidden, and those who say it is a celebration of the completion of God’s command for us. May the blessings and peace of God be upon our Prophet Muhammad, the best of humanity. Every day, five in full, always throughout the nights and days. In every prayer, we pray it with strictness and without praying for him with commitment. Our prayers are not always accepted without praying for him. And complete the peace, but people have an interest in the debate on this issue every year, but it will not be done with sweets, but rather with the revival of its Sunnahs with respect. We apply them in every field, O people. We tell its history to all the common people. Enough of division, enough of division. Let us preserve the glory of the religion of Islam and live our lives in complete contentment. Return to your senses. We will live in peace to prevail over the nations, and harmony will return to us. Our disappearance by it is a divine command, O Karam, by text. Religion belongs to God, may the blessings and peace of God be upon him from God and the honorable angels. We left prohibitions and great matters to spread without restrictions among people, and we did not argue about their prohibition, as if we were asleep, and obscenity increased. We did not say, “This is forbidden.” O God, we ask you to return the beautiful non-Islam, and we do not differ between permissible and forbidden. O God, may the blessings and peace of God be upon you and increase peace upon the best of your creation to the prophets. Conclusion...... Salim Awad Al-Huwaity .........poet. Badia, Egypt ♕♕♕♕♕♕♕♕♕♕♕♕♕♕
Away from all the confusion of speech and confusion between different understandings. Those who say this is heresy and forbidden, and those who say it is a celebration of the completion of God’s command for us. May the blessings and peace of God be upon our Prophet Muhammad, the best of humanity. Every day, five in full, always throughout the nights and days. In every prayer, we pray it with strictness and without praying for him with commitment. Our prayers are not always accepted without praying for him. And complete the peace, but people have an interest in the debate on this issue every year, but it will not be done with sweets, but rather with the revival of its Sunnahs with respect. We apply them in every field, O people. We tell its history to all the common people. Enough of division, enough of division. Let us preserve the glory of the religion of Islam and live our lives in complete contentment. Return to your senses. We will live in peace to prevail over the nations, and harmony will return to us. Our disappearance by it is a divine command, O Karam, by text. Religion belongs to God, may the blessings and peace of God be upon him from God and the honorable angels. We left prohibitions and great matters to spread without restrictions among people, and we did not argue about their prohibition, as if we were asleep, and obscenity increased. We did not say, “This is forbidden.” O God, we ask you to return the beautiful non-Islam, and we do not differ between permissible and forbidden. O God, may the blessings and peace of God be upon you and increase peace upon the best of your creation to the prophets. Conclusion...... Salim Awad Al-Huwaity .........poet. Badia, Egypt
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اقنعه السراب
يا وجه حبيبي، كم قناعًا ارتديتَ؟
كم أخفيتَ خلفه من أسرارٍ قديمة؟
تلونتَ بألوانٍ شتى، كفراشةٍ تُحلق بين زهوري الندية،
كنتَ زهرةً تتفتح في بستان قلبي،
تُشعل شوقي كأشعة الشمسِ تُداعب أوراق الحنين،
نسيمًا لطيفًا مرَّ من بين بتلات الربيع،
يُعطر الكون برائحة العشق الهادئة،
وقلبي يُغني لك في كل لحظةٍ، كأغنيةٍ لا تنتهي.
لكنك يا حبيبي، كنتَ سرابًا ساحرًا،
خلقتَ وهمًا حلوا، سُقيته قلبي حتى ارتوى،
فزاد عشقًا وتعلُّقًا بك،
كأنك نجمٌ في سماء روحي،
تضيء لياليّ المظلمة وتُخفي وراء ضوئك أسرارًا بعيدة،
كقوس قزحٍ يبتسم بعد المطر،
يعدني بألوان فرح، ثم يذوب في الأفق بلا رجوع.
كم كذبةً فاحت كالعطر حولي،
تراقصتَ أمامي كأفعى تلدغ القلب بنعومة،
تُغري بألوان خداعٍ تَسْلبُ الأبصار،
عيناكَ سرُّ سحرٍ خفي، جمالٌ لا يُقاوَم،
لكنَّ وراءهما مرارةً تُعذب روحي،
كغيمةٍ تخفي أشعة الشمس،
تُخفي دفء الحنان وتترك القلب يرتجف بردًا وحنينًا.
كم خيانةً انغرست في أعماق روحي التي أحبَّتك بلا تردد،
في زوايا قلبك المظلم،
البستني أكاذيبَ كحلَّةٍ من ذهبٍ براق،
أشعلتَ في قلبي نارَ حبٍ لا ينطفئ،
ثم أطفأتَها ببرودٍ قاتل،
كرياحٍ عاتيةٍ تُحطم زهور العشق،
نسجتَ شِباكَ خداعك، لتقيد قلبي الولهان.
وأنا، العاشق المغلوب على أمره،
احتويتُ كل أقنعتك، كل أوهامك وأكاذيبك،
لأنني أحببتك بعمقٍ، فاخترتُ أن أحيا تحت جراحك،
أغرق في بحر أحلامك المستحيلة،
ليكون قلبي موطنًا لعذاباتك،
وأنتَ السيد الذي يحكم قبضته على كل نبضة.
كنتَ تتراقص في مخيلتي كأغاني العشاق في ليالي القمر،
تشعل فيّ نارَ الشوق كحريقٍ في غابة من الذكريات،
لكن خلف هذه النيران، صوتٌ صامتٌ من العذاب،
يُذكرني أنك كنتَ ولا تزال سرابًا،
تتلاشى كالأحلام مع بزوغ فجرٍ جديد،
تُغرقني في بحرٍ من الذكريات الجميلة،
تحملني بعيدًا عن الواقع،
كأني أرقص مع الرياح،
أبحث عنك في كل نسمةٍ تمر،
أنتَ الحلمُ الذي لا نهاية له،
وأنا العاشقُ الذي ما زال يتوق إلى لمسةٍ من حبك.
بقلمي الشاعرة
د سحر حليم أنيس
Masked by a mirage, my beloved face, how many masks have you worn? How many old secrets have you hidden behind it? You were colored in many colors, like a butterfly flying among my dewy flowers. You were a flower blooming in the garden of my heart, igniting my longing like the rays of the sun caressing the leaves of nostalgia, a gentle breeze that passed between the petals of spring, perfumed the universe with the calm scent of love, and my heart sang for you every moment, like an endless song. But, my love, you were a charming mirage. You created a sweet illusion. I gave my heart a drink until it quenched its thirst, and it increased in love and attachment to you. It was as if you were a star in the sky of my soul, illuminating my dark nights and hiding distant secrets behind your light. Like a rainbow that smiles after the rain, promising me colors of joy, then melting into... The horizon is irreversible. How many lies spread around me like perfume. You danced in front of me like a snake that gently stings the heart, tempting with colors of deception that steal the sight. Your eyes are the secret of a hidden magic, an irresistible beauty, but behind them is a bitterness that torments my soul, like a cloud that hides the rays of the sun, hides the warmth of tenderness and leaves the heart trembling with coldness and longing. How much betrayal was implanted in the depths of my soul that loved you without hesitation, in the corners of your dark heart, you covered me with lies like a shimmering garment of gold, you kindled in my heart the fire of unquenchable love, then you extinguished it with deadly coldness, like strong winds that destroy the flowers of love, you wove the web of your deception, to bind my wandering heart. And I, the helpless lover, contained all your masks, all your illusions and lies, because I loved you deeply, so I chose to live under your wounds, drown in the sea of your impossible dreams, so that my heart would be a home for your torments, and you are the master who has a firm grip on every pulse. You were dancing in my imagination like the songs of lovers on moonlit nights, igniting in me the fire of longing like a fire in a forest of memories, but behind these flames, there was a silent sound of torment, reminding me that you were and still are a mirage, fading like dreams with the dawn of a new dawn, drowning me in a sea of beautiful memories. You carry me away from reality, as if I were dancing with the wind, searching for you in every passing breeze. You are the endless dream, and I am the lover who still longs for a touch of your love. Written by the poet Dr. Sahar Halim Anis ♕♕♕♕♕♕♕♕♕♕♕♕.. The mirage convinced him.. Written by the poet. D. Sahar Halim Anis..
Masked by a mirage, my beloved face, how many masks have you worn? How many old secrets have you hidden behind it? You were colored in many colors, like a butterfly flying among my dewy flowers. You were a flower blooming in the garden of my heart, igniting my longing like the rays of the sun caressing the leaves of nostalgia, a gentle breeze that passed between the petals of spring, perfumed the universe with the calm scent of love, and my heart sang for you every moment, like an endless song. But, my love, you were a charming mirage. You created a sweet illusion. I gave my heart a drink until it quenched its thirst, and it increased in love and attachment to you. It was as if you were a star in the sky of my soul, illuminating my dark nights and hiding distant secrets behind your light. Like a rainbow that smiles after the rain, promising me colors of joy, then melting into... The horizon is irreversible. How many lies spread around me like perfume. You danced in front of me like a snake that gently stings the heart, tempting with colors of deception that steal the sight. Your eyes are the secret of a hidden magic, an irresistible beauty, but behind them is a bitterness that torments my soul, like a cloud that hides the rays of the sun, hides the warmth of tenderness and leaves the heart trembling with coldness and longing. How much betrayal was implanted in the depths of my soul that loved you without hesitation, in the corners of your dark heart, you covered me with lies like a shimmering garment of gold, you kindled in my heart the fire of unquenchable love, then you extinguished it with deadly coldness, like strong winds that destroy the flowers of love, you wove the web of your deception, to bind my wandering heart. And I, the helpless lover, contained all your masks, all your illusions and lies, because I loved you deeply, so I chose to live under your wounds, drown in the sea of your impossible dreams, so that my heart would be a home for your torments, and you are the master who has a firm grip on every pulse. You were dancing in my imagination like the songs of lovers on moonlit nights, igniting in me the fire of longing like a fire in a forest of memories, but behind these flames, there was a silent sound of torment, reminding me that you were and still are a mirage, fading like dreams with the dawn of a new dawn, drowning me in a sea of beautiful memories. You carry me away from reality, as if I were dancing with the wind, searching for you in every passing breeze. You are the endless dream, and I am the lover who still longs for a touch of your love. Written by the poet Dr. Sahar Halim Anis
♕♕♕♕♕♕♕♕♕♕♕♕.. The mirage convinced him.. Written by the poet. D. Sahar Halim Anis..
الوطن غالي
وجبينه عالى
يلامس خيوط الشمس
ويعانق نجوم السماء
زهوره فواحة تنشر عطرها
وسماؤه عالية يتوجها النقاء
وأهله يتحلوا بالأصالة والعزة والإباء
راية وطنا مرفوعة شامخة للسماء
وأبطاله مرفوع رأسهم شامخ بكل كبرياء
وجباله صامدة لايزعزهم العناء
وأرضنا وطنا تعطينا خيراتها وتعزز من كرامتنا. لنبقى صامدين بوجه الأعداء
وطني بسماؤة وسهوله وجلاله
بأطفالها ونسائهم ورجاله
يصرخوا بأعلى صوتهم الموت للجناء
وتحيا ياوطنا ياوطن العزة والكرامة والإبقاء
بقلمي دلال شعبان العلي سورية
The homeland is expensive, its forehead is high, it touches the rays of the sun and embraces the stars of the sky, its flowers are an oasis that spreads its fragrance, its sky is high, crowned with purity, and its people exude authenticity, pride, and pride. The banner of the homeland is raised high to the sky, its heroes have their heads held high with all pride, its mountains are steadfast and are not disturbed by trouble, and our land is a homeland that gives us its bounties and enhances our dignity. Let us remain steadfast in the face of enemies. My homeland, with its sky, its plains, and its majesty, with its children, its women, and its men screaming at the top of their voices. Death to crime. Long live our homeland. O homeland of pride, dignity, and survival. With my pen, Dalal Shaaban Al-Ali, Syria. ♕♕♕♕♕♕♕♕♕♕♕♕♕
The homeland is expensive, its forehead is high, it touches the rays of the sun and embraces the stars of the sky, its flowers are an oasis that spreads its fragrance, its sky is high, crowned with purity, and its people exude authenticity, pride, and pride. The banner of the homeland is raised high to the sky, its heroes have their heads held high with all pride, its mountains are steadfast and are not disturbed by trouble, and our land is a homeland that gives us its bounties and enhances our dignity. Let us remain steadfast in the face of enemies. My homeland, with its sky, its plains, and its majesty, with its children, its women, and its men screaming at the top of their voices. Death to crime. Long live our homeland. O homeland of pride, dignity, and survival. With my pen, Dalal Shaaban Al-Ali, Syria.
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((((((لاتساوي الحياة دونك))))))
يامن هواك القلب وحدك واختار
وما عشق غيرك ولف حولك ودار
وانجذب حولك.... وماغير المسار
ونبض لك بقوة..... مثلما الاعصار
وناره مشتعلة قويه مولعه شرار
ماتطفيها. كل الشواطئ والبحار
غيرك انت يامن حبه القلب واختار
لان حبك. عميق وعشقك ماله قرار
وداخله أشياء كثيرة و فيه اسرار
تعبت من فرقتك..... والله ومحتار
واشغلت قلبي.. واشعلت فيه النار
وسارح في الخيال من كثر الأفكار
واسأل البدر عني واسأل الاقمار
والليالي تشهد عن ماجرى وصار
وتخبرك بالحقيقه وتكلمك بأختصار
ان الحياة لاتساوي... بدونك واصفار
قلي متى بأترجع من كل الأسفار
وتجيني حبيبي على متن القطار
كم يزداد شوقي لك..... وفي الانتظار
واستقبلك بالشوق واقطف لك الازهار
واكتب لك اجمل الخواطر والأشعار
ونحلق... مع العصافير ونزف الاخبار
ونحيي كل الليالي..... ونرقص مع السمار
ونجدد الايام السعيدة.. ونواصل المشوار
/بقلم/الشاعر والأديب /د/سليم علي الطشي
((((((Life is not equal without you)))))) O you who love the heart alone and choose and do not love anyone else but you and wrap around you and turn around and attract around you.... and do not change course and beat for you strongly..... like a hurricane and a strong burning fire that sparks do not extinguish it. . All the beaches and seas are other than you, you who are loved by the heart and chosen because of your love. It is deep, and your love has no stability, and within it there are many things and secrets. I am tired of being separated from you... I swear to God, I am confused, and you set my heart on fire.. and you set fire to it, and I wander in imagination from the multitude of thoughts, and I ask the full moon about me, and I ask the moons, and the nights bear witness to what happened and happened, and tell you the truth, and tell you in brief, that life is not equal. ...Without you and zeros, tell me when I will return from all the travels and come to me, my beloved, on the train. How much my longing for you increases... And in waiting and receiving you with longing, and picking flowers for you, and writing you the most beautiful thoughts and poems, and we flying... with the birds, and conveying the news, and greeting all the nights.. ...and we dance with the drunkards and renew the happy days..and we continue the journey / Written by / the poet and writer / Dr. Salim Ali Al-Tashi ♕♕♕♕♕♕♕♕♕♕♕♕♕♕
((((((Life is not equal without you)))))) O you who love the heart alone and choose and do not love anyone else but you and wrap around you and turn around and attract around you.... and do not change course and beat for you strongly..... like a hurricane and a strong burning fire that sparks do not extinguish it. . All the beaches and seas are other than you, you who are loved by the heart and chosen because of your love. It is deep, and your love has no stability, and within it there are many things and secrets. I am tired of being separated from you... I swear to God, I am confused, and you set my heart on fire.. and you set fire to it, and I wander in imagination from the multitude of thoughts, and I ask the full moon about me, and I ask the moons, and the nights bear witness to what happened and happened, and tell you the truth, and tell you in brief, that life is not equal. ...Without you and zeros, tell me when I will return from all the travels and come to me, my beloved, on the train. How much my longing for you increases... And in waiting and receiving you with longing, and picking flowers for you, and writing you the most beautiful thoughts and poems, and we flying... with the birds, and conveying the news, and greeting all the nights.. ...and we dance with the drunkards and renew the happy days..and we continue the journey / Written by / the poet and writer / Dr. Salim Ali Al-Tashi
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أنا دنچوان أوي وأعجبك،
وعندي قلب جميل يسعدك،،
عندي جوز جلابيب وطاقيه،،
وأحلفلك مش راح أتعبك،،
ع فكره دي مش
نظارتي
دي نضاره إيجار،،
واخدها م الواد عُكشه
أبن
مخيمر جاري ف الدار
شويه هزار،،
خد مني سيجاره،،
وقاعد يحكيلي
و يتمايل وكأنه ف حلقه زار ،،
قالي الفيس فيه
وظاويظ وبنات قمرات،،
فيه ناس هايله
تتعاكس بالنظرات،،
وصّاني الواد سعداوي،،
أتعايق وزود ف البهرات،،
وادي صورتي
أمامكم اهي
زي الفل،،
لابس متأيف
كاني قمر بيطل،،
قولت ياواد خليك قيمه،،
الفت نظر الكل،،
الواد سعداوي قالي
المنشور يعني البوست،،
لو حد قراه
تبقي تمام وكأنك فوزت،،
وإديني منزل من تلات
أيام ياخويا المنشور،،
لا حد قري ولاحد يزور،،
وأتاريني وقعت
في خيبه ونيبه،،
وادي جزات
اللي ياخد سعداوي مشور،،
هرجع تاني
ياعمي لداري
وغيطي،،
زرعتي هي
حلوه زيطي،،
ازرع واقلع
واشوف
مصالح بيتي،،
،،،،،،،،،،،،،،،،،،،،،،،،،،،،،محمد عبلي
I am very young and you like it, and I have a beautiful heart that makes you happy. I have a pair of robes and a hat. I swear to you that I will not tire you out. By the way, these are not my glasses. They are rented. I took them from the family. Ibn Mukhaymar, my neighbor at home, took a cigarette from me. And he sat talking to me and swaying as if he had visited me in a circle. He said, “Facebook has boys and girls with moonshine.” There are some great people who exchange glances at each other. I said, boy, be valuable. I caught everyone’s attention. Saadawi told me the post means the post. If anyone reads it, it will be as if you won. Give me a house. Three days ago, my brother. The post. No one has read and no one visits. Atharini, I was disappointed. And Neba,, Wadi Jazat, whoever takes Saadawi’s advice,, I will return again, uncle, to my house and cover,, My crops are beautiful, my oil,, I plant and uproot and see to the interests of my home,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, ,,,,,,,,,,Mohamed Abli ♕♕♕♕♕♕♕♕♕♕♕♕♕
I am very young and you like it, and I have a beautiful heart that makes you happy. I have a pair of robes and a hat. I swear to you that I will not tire you out. By the way, these are not my glasses. They are rented. I took them from the family. Ibn Mukhaymar, my neighbor at home, took a cigarette from me. And he sat talking to me and swaying as if he had visited me in a circle. He said, “Facebook has boys and girls with moonshine.” There are some great people who exchange glances at each other. I said, boy, be valuable. I caught everyone’s attention. Saadawi told me the post means the post. If anyone reads it, it will be as if you won. Give me a house. Three days ago, my brother. The post. No one has read and no one visits. Atharini, I was disappointed. And Neba,, Wadi Jazat, whoever takes Saadawi’s advice,, I will return again, uncle, to my house and cover,, My crops are beautiful, my oil,, I plant and uproot and see to the interests of my home,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, ,,,,,,,,,,Mohamed Abli
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الفراق
الفراق اصعب وقع على النفس العفيفية
تظل قائمة على امل اللقاء القريب البعيد
في بعض الاحيان يكن برغبة الاختيار
لاسباب كثيرة منها الاختلاف في الوجهات
لكن تتصارع الغصات تصحبها التلعثمات
غير منكرة الالفة والمودة لاناس اخيار
وما اقسي فراق الحبيب المحب لمن احب
تهاجر اليه اسراب الوجد تحمل وهج القلب
وخواطر العيون واهات التنهيدات المبكيات
قلم
فتحي بهجت
Separation is the hardest thing to happen to a chaste soul, which remains in the hope of a near and distant meeting. Sometimes it is due to the desire to choose for many reasons, including the difference in destinations, but the conflicts are accompanied by stutters that do not deny familiarity and affection for good people. And how cruel is the separation of a lover who loves the one he loves, flocks of affection migrate to him carrying a glow. The heart, the thoughts of the eyes, and the wailing sighs written by Fathi Bahjat ♕♕♕♕♕♕♕♕♕♕♕♕♕♕
بقلمي
الحلمرأيتها والسعادة تغمرهاجلست هنا حبيبتيإنها الحياة بكل أبعادها سيدتي الرائعةتمرد هنا الى أبعد الحدود وهناك من يمزق الأحلام من أجل البعد في حلمهوآخر يسبح في كل مجالات الفضاء حروهذا يحمل مزمارا في ليلة موحشة يبحث عن الدفىء ومنا من يشعل في أحقاده نارا حتى يرتاحوهل بإستطاعتنا أن نبصر الغد أم إنها رمال في مخيلتناوأناس تنام فيه لهجة الإنتقام فيشعر بالغصةوهي كانت تحب اللون الأسود لأسباب غامضةوفتاة تنتظر السفينة وفي الحقيقة لا تعرف لماذاوأنا هنا نسيت عيد ميلادي حزنا وفرحاوجاءت ليلة الشتاء حزينة تطرق باب القلبوأرض الأوطان حفروا فيها ألف قبر هنا في هذا الدياروهناك من أكمل تهجير الحب الى البلاد البعيدوهذه الخيول الرائعة هل جاءت أو تريد عالما آخرجلست هنا وفي عالمي بحار تنشد السلامتحياتيمحمود إدلبي – لبنانWith my dream pen, I saw her and happiness overwhelmed her. She sat here, my love. It is life in all its dimensions. My wonderful lady. Rebellion here to the furthest extent. There are those who tear apart dreams for the sake of the distance in their dreams, and another who swims in all areas of space, free. This one carries a flute on a lonely night searching for warmth. And among us are those who ignite a fire in his grudges. Until he rests, are we able to see tomorrow, or is it sand in our imaginations and people sleeping in it, the tone of revenge, so he feels the pain, and she loved the color black for mysterious reasons, and a girl is waiting for the ship, and in reality she does not know why, and here I forgot my birthday in sadness and joy, and a sad winter night came knocking on the door of the heart and the land of the homelands. They dug a thousand graves in it, here in this land, and there are those who completed the migration of love to distant countries. And these wonderful horses. Did they come or want another world? They sat here and in my world there are seas seeking peace. Greetings, Mahmoud Idlibi - Lebanon ♕♕♕♕♕♕♕♕♕♕♕♕♕♕♕♕
Separation is the hardest thing to happen to a chaste soul, which remains in the hope of a near and distant meeting. Sometimes it is due to the desire to choose for many reasons, including the difference in destinations, but the conflicts are accompanied by stutters that do not deny familiarity and affection for good people. And how cruel is the separation of a lover who loves the one he loves, flocks of affection migrate to him carrying a glow. The heart, the thoughts of the eyes, and the wailing sighs written by Fathi Bahjat
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بقلمي
الحلم
رأيتها والسعادة تغمرها
جلست هنا حبيبتي
إنها الحياة بكل أبعادها سيدتي الرائعة
تمرد هنا الى أبعد الحدود
وهناك من يمزق الأحلام
من أجل البعد في حلمه
وآخر يسبح في كل مجالات الفضاء
حر
وهذا يحمل مزمارا
في ليلة موحشة يبحث عن الدفىء
ومنا من يشعل في أحقاده نارا حتى يرتاح
وهل بإستطاعتنا أن نبصر الغد
أم إنها رمال في مخيلتنا
وأناس تنام فيه لهجة الإنتقام
فيشعر بالغصة
وهي كانت تحب اللون الأسود
لأسباب غامضة
وفتاة تنتظر السفينة
وفي الحقيقة لا تعرف لماذا
وأنا هنا نسيت عيد ميلادي حزنا وفرحا
وجاءت ليلة الشتاء
حزينة تطرق باب القلب
وأرض الأوطان حفروا فيها
ألف قبر هنا في هذا الديار
وهناك من أكمل تهجير الحب
الى البلاد البعيد
وهذه الخيول الرائعة هل جاءت أو تريد عالما آخر
جلست هنا وفي عالمي بحار تنشد السلام
تحياتي
محمود إدلبي – لبنان
With my dream pen, I saw her and happiness overwhelmed her. She sat here, my love. It is life in all its dimensions. My wonderful lady. Rebellion here to the furthest extent. There are those who tear apart dreams for the sake of the distance in their dreams, and another who swims in all areas of space, free. This one carries a flute on a lonely night searching for warmth. And among us are those who ignite a fire in his grudges. Until he rests, are we able to see tomorrow, or is it sand in our imaginations and people sleeping in it, the tone of revenge, so he feels the pain, and she loved the color black for mysterious reasons, and a girl is waiting for the ship, and in reality she does not know why, and here I forgot my birthday in sadness and joy, and a sad winter night came knocking on the door of the heart and the land of the homelands. They dug a thousand graves in it, here in this land, and there are those who completed the migration of love to distant countries. And these wonderful horses. Did they come or want another world? They sat here and in my world there are seas seeking peace. Greetings, Mahmoud Idlibi - Lebanon
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يوم ميلاد النبي
جاء نور للهدي
جاب الهدي للجميع
ذكري عطرت الأفئدة
عطر جاي في الربيع
طبت حيا ذكري حلوة للجميع
سنتك فينا بتندينا
بتصحي فينا أسلام نبينا
بنصلي عليك يا هدينا
كل يوم بنفتح عنيننا
فاالصلاة عليك أنفع لينا
نشفع بيها عند الأله
حبك يا هادينا
يعدينا وينجينا
نور الايمان نور ليالينا
بعد عتمت الضلال والشرك
بعثت فينا يا خير مبعوث
ولدت منا عربيا وليس بعجمي
فشرفت العرب بقدومك
يا خير ولد أدم
وأكرم من خلق
يامن كرمك ربك
حين جعل أسمك
جمب أسم الله
صلي عليك الله
يا خير خلق الله
فصلاة عليك جميع مخلوقات الله
عليك صلاة الله وسلامة
يا نبي الله وحامل اخر رسالتة
بقلمي فاتن فوزي
The day the Prophet was born, a light came for guidance. He brought guidance to all. A memory that fragrant hearts. A fragrance coming in the spring. I was alive. A sweet memory for all. Your year among us calls upon us. You wake up among us. Islam is our Prophet. We pray upon you, O our guide. Every day we open our eyes. Praying upon you is more beneficial for us. We intercede with God. Your love, O our guide, passes us by and delivers us light. Faith is the light of our nights after the darkness of misguidance and polytheism. You were sent among us, O best messenger. You were born among us an Arab and not a non-Arab, so you honored the Arabs with your arrival. O the best child of Adam and the most generous of all creation. O you who honored your Lord when He made your name next to the name of God. May God’s blessings be upon you. O best of God’s creation. May all God’s creatures bless you. May God’s prayers be upon you. All of God’s creatures may pray upon you. God and safety, O Prophet of God, and the bearer of his last message, written by Faten Fawzi ♕♕♕♕♕♕♕♕♕♕♕♕♕
The day the Prophet was born, a light came for guidance. He brought guidance to all. A memory that fragrant hearts. A fragrance coming in the spring. I was alive. A sweet memory for all. Your year among us calls upon us. You wake up among us. Islam is our Prophet. We pray upon you, O our guide. Every day we open our eyes. Praying upon you is more beneficial for us. We intercede with God. Your love, O our guide, passes us by and delivers us light. Faith is the light of our nights after the darkness of misguidance and polytheism. You were sent among us, O best messenger. You were born among us an Arab and not a non-Arab, so you honored the Arabs with your arrival. O the best child of Adam and the most generous of all creation. O you who honored your Lord when He made your name next to the name of God. May God’s blessings be upon you. O best of God’s creation. May all God’s creatures bless you. May God’s prayers be upon you. All of God’s creatures may pray upon you. God and safety, O Prophet of God, and the bearer of his last message, written by Faten Fawzi
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مش مستاهله
مش مستاهله
الدنيادي بكل مافيهاعاليها واطيها مش مستاهله
مش مستاهله
الدنيا بكل متعاها وزينتها غرورة وغدارة وزايلة
مش مستاهله
تكون فاكر انك هتعمر فيها دي دنياوبعدها آخرة
مش مستاهله
تغضب ربنا وتعصاه بعدها ماينوبك غير الحسرة
مش مستاهله
إنك تتعارك وتظلم وتجني عداوة ملهاش لازمة
مش مستاهله
أنك تأكل ميراث أخواتك وشريعة ربنا واضحة
مش مستاهلة
تخسر اخوك واختك وتزعل جارك وتعمل أزمة
مش مستاهله
كلها أيام معدودة تعيشها و تودع الدنيا الفانية
مش مستاهله
ولا هتخلد فيها لك عمر مش راح ينقص ثانية
مش مستاهله
بكره تموت وتودع الدنياوتبقى لاحول ولا قوة
مش مستاهله
أياك تتعشم فيها وتغرك وتتعلق بحبالها التايكة
شاعر العامية / عبد المنعم حمدي رضوان
I don't deserve it. I don't deserve this world with all its highs and lows. I don't deserve it. I don't deserve the world with all its pleasures and adornments. Arrogance, treachery, and transience. I don't deserve to think that you will live in this world and then an afterlife. I don't deserve to be angry with God and disobey Him afterward. Nothing will come to you except heartbreak. I don't deserve to fight, oppress, and reap unnecessary hostility. I don't deserve to be angry with God and disobey Him after that. You eat the inheritance of your sisters, and the law of God is clear. You are not worthy. You lose your brother and sister, you upset your neighbor, and you create a crisis. You are not worthy of it. It is all a few days that you live and bid farewell to the mortal world. You are not worthy, and you will not live in it forever. You have a life that will not be shortened again. You are not worthy of tomorrow. You die and bid farewell to the world, and you remain powerless. You are not worthy of it. Don’t live in it. It tempts you and clings to its tight ropes, the colloquial poet / Abdel Moneim Hamdi Radwan ♕♕♕♕♕♕♕♕♕♕♕♕♕♕
I don't deserve it. I don't deserve this world with all its highs and lows. I don't deserve it. I don't deserve the world with all its pleasures and adornments. Arrogance, treachery, and transience. I don't deserve to think that you will live in this world and then an afterlife. I don't deserve to be angry with God and disobey Him afterward. Nothing will come to you except heartbreak. I don't deserve to fight, oppress, and reap unnecessary hostility. I don't deserve to be angry with God and disobey Him after that. You eat the inheritance of your sisters, and the law of God is clear. You are not worthy. You lose your brother and sister, you upset your neighbor, and you create a crisis. You are not worthy of it. It is all a few days that you live and bid farewell to the mortal world. You are not worthy, and you will not live in it forever. You have a life that will not be shortened again. You are not worthy of tomorrow. You die and bid farewell to the world, and you remain powerless. You are not worthy of it. Don’t live in it. It tempts you and clings to its tight ropes, the colloquial poet / Abdel Moneim Hamdi Radwan
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نَظَرَتْ إلَيَّ
===========
لا أعلم كيف نَظَرَتْ إلَيَّ.
في مقلتيك سحر يراودني ويغويني
أسكنتك القلب تسامر وحدتي
صرت احلم بك ليلى ونهاري
ظننته طبيبا لأحزاني و همومي
لكن كان سبب جروحي وألآمي
أحضان عشقه تداوى جروحي
أنت أجمل ملهمة لأشعاري
واني جعلتك خارطة زماني
فأشعلت أحاسيسي ووجداني
دمى مداد حروفي شاهدا على شجوني
وضاجعت الأحلام مخيلتي فعذبتني
حلقت طيفك وما يأتي بمنامي
فراش ليلنا لم يزل دفئ
أتجرع الوجع ومر كاساتي
أنا الغريب والحزن زادي وشرابي
لن أكتب و أبوح بأحزاني
كل من حولي نساني
وإنما تذهب تسمع صوت بكائي
نفسي أغيب وأنسى سنين المى
طال انتظارك فأصبحت أخاف الأماني
ويخنق الحب بقلبي العليل باكي
تمزقت شراييني وتقطعت أوتار قلبي
تغدو صرخات القلب بلا دوى
و تصبح البسِمُة حلما وأماني !
فهل نلتقي مجددا ربما لا نلتقي!
لتأتى لدفن ما تبقى من جثماني
==============
الشاعر الحزين/ حسن عبد المنعم رفاعي
She looked at me =========== I don't know how she looked at me. In your eyeballs there is magic that haunts me and seduces me. You made my heart dwell in peace. My loneliness began to dream of you day and night. I thought he was a doctor for my sorrows and worries, but he was the cause of my wounds and pain. The embrace of his love healed my wounds. You are the most beautiful muse for my poems. And I made you the map of my time. You ignited my feelings and my conscience. The ink of my letters was puppets, a witness to my sorrows. And dreams fucked my imagination, so it tormented me. I flew. Your ghost and what brings to my sleep Our night's bed is still warm I drink pain and the bitterness of my cups I am the stranger and sadness is my food and drink I will not write and reveal my sorrows Everyone around me has forgotten me But you go away and hear the sound of my crying My soul disappears and forgets the years of pain I have long waited for you, so I have become afraid of hopes and love is suffocating in my sick, crying heart My arteries are torn and cut off The strings of my heart become the cries of the heart without a sound, and the smile becomes a dream and wishes! Will we meet again? Maybe we won't! To come to bury what remains of my body ============== The sad poet/ Hassan Abdel Moneim Rifai ♕♕♕♕♕♕♕♕♕♕♕♕♕
She looked at me =========== I don't know how she looked at me. In your eyeballs there is magic that haunts me and seduces me. You made my heart dwell in peace. My loneliness began to dream of you day and night. I thought he was a doctor for my sorrows and worries, but he was the cause of my wounds and pain. The embrace of his love healed my wounds. You are the most beautiful muse for my poems. And I made you the map of my time. You ignited my feelings and my conscience. The ink of my letters was puppets, a witness to my sorrows. And dreams fucked my imagination, so it tormented me. I flew. Your ghost and what brings to my sleep Our night's bed is still warm I drink pain and the bitterness of my cups I am the stranger and sadness is my food and drink I will not write and reveal my sorrows Everyone around me has forgotten me But you go away and hear the sound of my crying My soul disappears and forgets the years of pain I have long waited for you, so I have become afraid of hopes and love is suffocating in my sick, crying heart My arteries are torn and cut off The strings of my heart become the cries of the heart without a sound, and the smile becomes a dream and wishes! Will we meet again? Maybe we won't! To come to bury what remains of my body ============== The sad poet/ Hassan Abdel Moneim Rifai
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🌠 ميلاد الهدى
د . نوال حمود
نور من نور أشرق وأضاء
ونشر على المدى
المنى
فاض بتعاليم الرحمن وبلغ
نشر الخير وأنقذ
الورى
خاتم الأنبياء والمرسلين أكمل
الله فيك تعاليم الدين
و سمى
بين يديك كل علم وحلق؛
جمعت خير ما كان
في العلا
نبض القلب عرش وأثمر، وهب
حبك للأنام أشبع وأورف
الهوى
الرحمة ملكتها وكنت الشفيع
لأمة رفعتها من الجهل
للهدى.
عشتااار سوريااا
بقلمي د/ نوال علي حمود
Milad Al-Huda Dr. Nawal Hammoud is a light from a light that shone, illuminated, and spread manifold over the horizon, overflowing with the teachings of the Most Gracious, reaching the spread of goodness, and saving the lost, the Seal of the Prophets and Messengers. May God perfect in you the teachings of religion and exalt in your hands all knowledge and wisdom. You collected the best of what was in the highest, the beating of the heart, a throne, and it yielded fruit. Your love gave to the sleep, satisfied and fulfilled the passion. Mercy possessed it, and you were the intercessor for a nation that you raised from ignorance to guidance. Ishtar Syria, written by Dr. Nawal Ali Hammoud
Milad Al-Huda Dr. Nawal Hammoud is a light from a light that shone, illuminated, and spread manifold over the horizon, overflowing with the teachings of the Most Gracious, reaching the spread of goodness, and saving the lost, the Seal of the Prophets and Messengers. May God perfect in you the teachings of religion and exalt in your hands all knowledge and wisdom. You collected the best of what was in the highest, the beating of the heart, a throne, and it yielded fruit. Your love gave to the sleep, satisfied and fulfilled the passion. Mercy possessed it, and you were the intercessor for a nation that you raised from ignorance to guidance. Ishtar Syria, written by Dr. Nawal Ali Hammoud
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فاليوم ولد محمد الهادي فضياء
النجوم تلألأت بصحراء و بيداء
و السماء اعلنت فقد ولد الثناء
ل امنة بنت خويلد ولد بلا عناء
تعالى البدر ضياء فئانار الارجاء
اقرأ يا محمد فقال ما انا بقارئ
قال دثريني ما بك ياابى الزهراء
وتسأله خديجة الحبيبة النجلاء
ويرتعش خوفا من اثقال ما جاء
يا محمد انه الله يأمرك فلا تناء
ورقة ابن نوفل مبشرا لها انبياء
رسل الله بالكتب للخلق جاءوا
رسالة الحق بها جاءوا و بالأنباء
يا خديجة جاءه ناموس الانبياء
قولي له اثبت نزل الوحي ما جاء
فجبريل روح القدس من الامناء
فافاق عليه الصلاة والسلام وباء
باءوا بفضل العرب و زهت الفلاء
بوركت با خديجة لها فضل وعناء
صدقت اولا ءامنت بكلام السماء
فقال جبريل اقرأ قال ما انا بقارئ
اقرأ باسم ربك الذي خلق الاكوان
يامحمد خذ الكتاب وبلغ الخلائق
والايات تتنزل تترتل بكل أمرونهي
فلاتحرك به لسانك لتعجل به نقول
ان علينا جمعه قرأنه ثم علينابيانه
وحي اتي محمدا فيبلغنا ما به امر
وهناك من ءامن وهناك منا من كفر
فاشتد بالنبي و من معه بمكة الأذى
يؤمر بالهجرة ليثرب هاجروابو بكر
تبعه سراقة وعده بإسواري كسرى
فيصدق سراقة محمدا وهذا الخبر
يا سراقة قال نعم خذ هذه اسورين
كسرى صدق ومحمدا يصدقه الخبر
فطلع البدر علينا من ثنيات الوداع
و جب الشكرعلينا ما دعى لله داع
يثرب اليوم مأخاة مهاجرين وانصار
تقاسموا كل شيء انهم بالله اخوان
فقام للاسلام هنا لمحمد النبي مقام
قال اليوم اكملت لكم دينكم رضيت
رضيت لكم الاسلام دينا كان مودعا
و تفتح له مكة فيقول لهم ما بالكم
قالوا اخ كريم وابن اخ كريم فطلقاء
فاللهم صل و سلم و بارك على محمد
عدد ما دعى من خلق ملك انس جان
وعدد ما خلق من امم ومعهم الثقلان
عدد ما مر ويمر من ثوان ببحر لزمان
فاللهم صلاتك على محمد بن عبدالله
ما ذكره الذاكرون وغفل عنه الغافلون
للشاعر غسان محمد ذيب علي الحسين الأخرس الرقم الاتحادي. ٠٠٧١
Today, Muhammad Al-Hadi was born. The brilliance of the stars sparkled in a desert and a desert, and the sky announced. Praise was born to Amna bint Khuwaylid. He was born without trouble. Almighty. The full moon is the light of the lamps of all. Read, Muhammad. He said, “I am not a reader.” He said, “Cover me, what is the matter with you, my father Al-Zahra.” And Khadija, the beloved Al-Najlaa, asks him, and he trembles in fear of the burdens of what he read. He came, O Muhammad, it is God commanding you, so do not forget the paper of Ibn Nawfal, bringing good tidings to her. Prophets were messengers of God with the Books for the creation. They came with the message of truth with it. They came and with the news. O Khadija, the law of the prophets came to him. Tell him to prove what the revelation came down. Gabriel, the Holy Spirit, was one of the faithful. He, peace and blessings of God be upon him, woke up and became plagued thanks to the Arabs. And she was blessed with abundance, and she was blessed with Khadija. She had virtue and hardship. She was the first to believe in the words of heaven. Gabriel said, “Read.” He said, “I am not a reader. Read in the name of your Lord who created the universes. O Muhammad, take the Book and communicate to the creatures. The verses come down and are recited with every command and prohibition. Do not move your tongue with it to hasten it. We say that it is upon us to collect it as a recitation, and then upon us is its revelation by revelation.” Muhammad comes and informs us of what is happening to him, and there are those of us who believe and there are those of us who disbelieve, so they seek refuge with the Prophet, and those who are with him in Mecca are harmed. He is ordered to emigrate so that they may migrate. Abu Bakr followed by Suraqa and promised him Khosrau’s bracelets, so he believed Muhammad’s stealing, and this is the news, O Suraqa. He said, “Yes, take these two of Khosrau’s bracelets.” Chosroes spoke the truth, and Muhammad believed the news, so the full moon rose upon us. From the folds of farewell and due thanks for us, what prayed to God is Yathrib today, the brotherhood of the immigrants and supporters. They shared everything. Indeed, in God, they are brothers. So he stood up for Islam here for Muhammad the Prophet, a position. He said, “Today I have perfected for you your religion. I am satisfied. I have approved for you Islam as a religion that was deposited, and Mecca is opened for him. He says to them, ‘What is the matter with you?’ They said, ‘Honorable brother.’” And Karim’s nephew is at large. May God bless and bless Muhammad as many times as he claimed from the creation of human kings and as many nations as he created, and with them the heavyweights, as many seconds that passed and are passing by in a sea of time. May God bless Muhammad bin Abdullah, what those who remember have mentioned and those who are heedless have overlooked. By the poet Ghassan Muhammad. Theeb Ali Al-Hussein Al-Akhras, federal number. 0071
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....... ماذا قدم لها..........
كنت في جلسة ثقافية نسوية منذ أيام وبعد الانتهاء وخروجي بصحبة احداهن حيث صادف قدرا بيتي على نفس طريقها واثناء العودة تجاذبنا اطراف الحديث وسالتها عن وضعها الاجتماعي واذ بها تبدأ بالحديث عن زوجها المتوفى منذ سنوات وهي في مقتبل العمر ولها طفلتين،شدّني حديثها عن زوجها وحبه لها وتفاصيل غاية الاهمية معه ومدى تأثيرها على روحها وقلبها تتذكرها وترويها لي ولو سمعتها كل إمراة لتمنت ان يكون زوجها على نفس النهج والتعامل معها ، كنت استمع واستمتع وعبارة واحدة يرددها عقلي،،، ماذا قدم لها،،، وكل ماامضته من حياتها معه لم تتجاوز ثمان سنوات، ماذا قدم لها خلال تلك السنوات القليلة من احتواء ومشاعر صادقة وحنان ووفاء وحب لتذكره بهذه المشاعر والرقي والمودة، كان يستقطع جزء من المحاضرة التي يقدمها لطلابه حتى يتكلم عن زوجته، كان يطلب منها ان تحضر للقاعة وتجلس اخر المقاعد كي تسمع محاضراته ويسعد بوجودها وهي ليست طالبة عنده، كان يقول لها بعد وفاة والدها وتاثرها وحزنها العميق قولي لي بابا كي لاتشعري بالفقد، كان وكان وكان،
نعم تلك التفاصيل اليومية النابعة من اعماق القلب والمشاعر النبيلة الصادقة هي البذور التي زرعها ذلك الزوج وكبرت وتجذرت في قلبها ولا تستطيع رياح التحديات والمشكلات ان تقتلعها حتى بعد رحيله،
اهتمو بتفاصيل يومكم مع الشريك، ليس المودة والحب بين الزوجين، بالسيارة الحديثة ولا كثرة الرحلات ولا بعدد الاطعمة الفاخرة الجاهزة التي يطلبها لك، كنت اردد ماذا قدم لها وانا استمع لحديثها عنه وافكر في كل زوج وسعادته في ان تتذكره زوجته وتذكره في حياته وبعد رحيله بهذا الجمال والمشاعر الراقية، وتستمر في حديثها لتقول، رفضتُ ماتقدم لي من عروض للزواج رغم مرور سنوات على رحيله ورغم كثرتهم بل واكثر مما كنت عزباء قبل زواجي،
رفضت رغم احتياجها الى زوج وشريك وسند يعينها على تحديات الحياة وتربية طفلتيها لكنها رفضت
وتقول لو قارنتُ كل رجل معه لم ترجح الكفة لذا كنت ارفض،
احرصو على زرع بذور الحب والاهتمام والاحتواء يوميا واكرر يوميا لتكون لها جذور عميقة لاتستطيع اي من مواقف الحياة الصعبة ان تزيلها، لتكون هي الاساس المتين الذي يجعل لكم ذكرى جميلة في الحياة وبعد الرحيل.
بقلم الحقوقية المستشار نوال الجراح
....... What did he give her? ....... I was in a feminist cultural session a few days ago, and after it ended and I went out with one of them, a fate came across my house on the same path. On the way back, we chatted and I asked her about her social situation. She starts talking about her husband who died years ago when she was young and had two daughters. Her talk about her husband and his love for her and the very important details about him and the extent of their impact on her soul and heart attracted me. She remembers them and narrated them to me, and if every woman heard them, she would wish that her husband would be on the same path and deal with her. I would listen and enjoy the phrase. One that my mind keeps repeating: What did he give her? And all the time she spent her life with him did not exceed eight years. What did he give her during those few years of containment, sincere feelings, tenderness, loyalty, and love? To remind him of these feelings, sophistication, and affection. He used to take part of the lecture he gave his students. In order to talk about his wife, he used to ask her to come to the hall and sit in the last seats so that she could hear his lectures, and he was happy with her presence even though she was not his student. He used to say to her after her father’s death and her shock and deep sadness, “Tell me daddy so that you don’t feel lost.” He was, and he was, and he was. Yes, those daily details that stem from The depths of the heart and the noble, sincere feelings are the seeds that that husband planted, and they grew and took root in her heart, and the winds of challenges and problems cannot uproot them even after his departure. Pay attention to the details of your day with your partner, not the affection and love between the spouses, the modern car, the frequent trips, or the number of ready-made luxury foods he orders. To you, I was repeating what he gave her while I was listening to her talk about him and thinking about every husband and his happiness in having his wife remember him and remember him in his life and after his departure with this beauty and high feelings, and she continues her speech to say, I rejected the offers of marriage that were made to me despite the years that have passed since his departure and despite their abundance and even more. Since I was single before my marriage, she refused, despite her need for a husband, a partner, and support to help her face the challenges of life and raise her two children, but she refused and said that if I compared every man with him, the balance would not be out of the question, so I refused. Make sure to plant the seeds of love, care, and containment daily, and repeat daily, so that they have deep roots that no one can touch. One of the difficult situations in life is to remove it, so that it becomes the solid foundation that makes you a beautiful memory in life and after you leave. Written by legal advisor Nawal Al-Jarrah
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سيد البشر
يوم ميلاد سيدِ البشرْ
مولاي صلى عليك وسلمَ
يا خير ميلادٍ قد أتى
وخير مولود اجلَ وأعظمَ
بصلاتنا لك يا حبيبُ نجاتنا
يوم الصراط فما أعز وأنعمَ
من حوض كوثركم نأملُ رشفةً
ومحجلين مفازةً وتَنعُما
رضوان ربي عليك شفيعنا
يا خير من لذنا هناك وأكرمَ
أبا القاسمْ.. أيا خير الورى
روحي لكم تشتاق حتى تنعمَ
سندي شفيعي في كبوتي
يا سيد الثقلين قلبي تكلمَ
لك يا الهي الحمد اني مسلمٌ
صلى عليك الكون حقاً وسلمَ
...........
منى محمد
The Lord of Mankind, the day of the birth of the Master of Mankind, my Lord, may peace and blessings be upon you. Oh, the best birth has come, and the best birth is greater and more exalted. With our prayers for you, O Beloved, save us on the Day of the Path. What is dearer and more blessed than the basin of Kawthar of yours. We hope for a sip and two cups of reward and bliss. The pleasure of our Lord is upon you, our intercessor, O the best of our pleasures there and the most generous of Abu al-Qasim. O good one, my soul longs for you to enjoy my support, my intercessor in my distress, O Lord of the heavy ones, my heart has spoken to you, O my God, praise be to you that I am a Muslim, may the universe truly bless you and grant you peace........... Mona Muhammad.
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المولد النبوي الشريف
في كل عام تأتي ذكرى مولدك يا سيد الخلق، فتنبعث في القلوب إشراقة من نور السماء، تذكرنا بميلاد النور الذي أضاء الدنيا بعد ظلام طويل. في هذا اليوم الكريم، نهيم في فضاء الرحمة، نسترجع سيرتك العطرة ونستلهم من أخلاقك الرفيعة ما يغسل أرواحنا ويجدد إيماننا.
أيها النبي الكريم، يا من جئت رحمة للعالمين، حملت لواء المحبة، ودعوتنا إلى طريق الهداية والسلام. يوم ولادتك هو يوم تفتح السماء أبوابها، وتغمر الأرض بركة، ويتلألأ النور في سماء الإنسان، يدعونا لنتأمل في عظمة الرسالة التي حملتها بكل صدق وإخلاص.
في ذكراك، نتجدد. نتعلم من صبرك، نقتدي بحكمتك، ونستلهم من حياتك المثال الأسمى في العدل، التسامح، والإيمان.
سلام عليك في يومك، وفي كل يوم يمر علينا، نبتهل إلى الله أن يغمرنا من نورك، ويزرع في قلوبنا قبسًا من أخلاقك الطيبة، فنكون أهلاً لأن نكون أتباعك، ونحمل رسالتك بكل حب وسلام.
بقلمي: الكاتب شتوح عثمان
The Noble Prophet’s Birthday Every year, the anniversary of your birth, O Master of Creation, comes, and a radiance of heaven’s light emanates in the hearts, reminding us of the birth of the light that illuminated the world after a long darkness. On this noble day, we wander in the space of mercy, recalling your fragrant life and drawing inspiration from your high morals, which cleanses our souls and renews our faith. O noble Prophet, you who came as a mercy to the worlds, you carried the banner of love, and you called us to the path of guidance and peace. The day you were born is the day the sky opens its doors, the earth is filled with blessings, and the light sparkles in the human sky, calling us to contemplate the greatness of the message that you carried with all honesty and sincerity. In your memory, we are renewed. We learn from your patience, imitate your wisdom, and draw inspiration from your life as the ultimate example of justice, tolerance, and faith. May peace be upon you on your day, and every day that passes by us, we pray to God to flood us with your light and plant in our hearts a spark of your good morals, so that we will be worthy of being your followers and carrying your message with all love and peace. Written by: Writer Shatouh Othman
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قصرى فى الجنة
قد أكون متفائلا
ولكن أشعر وأظن بالله حسن الظن
أن سيدنا رضوان لن يتركنى أنتظر طويلا فى طابور الواقفين أمام الجنة
ولم يطالبنى بتقديم أوراق تحقيق الشخصية وشهادة حسن السير والسلوك ولن يحولنى الى قسم المراجعة وقسم الحسبات ورغم ذلك فانى متفائل ويوهمنى تفاؤلى بأننى سأدخل الجنة لأنى معى أنشاءالله تذكرة الدخول التى سأقدمها الى سيدنا رضوان فأننى أتصور أن أبواب الجنة ستفتح أمام الذين يسعدون ويرضون الأمهات وهذه فكرتى لمن يحاول دخول الجنة وأذا كانت هذه الفكرة تستحق قصرا فى الجنة فأنا لاأستحق الا حجرة صغيرة جدا فى هذا القصر
فأنى أدعوا للفكرة للدخول الجنة لأنها تحت أقدام أمهاتنا وهى فرصة لاتعوض بعد رحيلها فالى اللقاء بعد عمر طويل فى القصر الذى أقمناه معا
وهذا دعائى لأمى
بقلم محمود عبد الحميد عيسى
شاعر وكاتب صحفى
15/9/2024
My palace in Paradise. I may be optimistic, but I feel, and I believe in God, that our Master Radwan will not leave me waiting for a long time in the queue standing in front of Paradise. He has not asked me to submit identity papers and a certificate of good conduct, and he will not transfer me to the Auditing Department and the Accounts Department. Despite this, I am optimistic and my optimism deceives me that I will enter Paradise. Because I have, God willing, the entry ticket that I will present to our master Radwan, I imagine that the doors of Paradise will open to those who make mothers happy and satisfied, and this is my idea for those who try to enter Paradise, and if this idea deserves a palace in Paradise, then I only deserve a very small room in this palace, so I invite the idea to enter Paradise because Under the feet of our mothers, and it is an irreplaceable opportunity after her passing. See you after a long life in the palace that we built together. This is my prayer for my mother. Written by Mahmoud Abdel Hamid Issa, poet and journalist, 9/15/2024
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رسالة وجع
ياليتني لم أولد ولم إلى ماأنا فيه الحال قد وصل
وإذا هناك من يسأل عن سبب ماأقول ...فوضع الحال بالإجابة كافيا.....
مشرد ..فقير....منبوذ بجنسيته وفوق هذا لا سكنآ ولا مسكنا....
أداري وجهي عن كل عارف ومن حالي وبحالي يبكي على حالي الخجل...
حالي ك.حال كل عربي
أجار البيت يدمي مدمعي والجوع يسكن بيت كل من بشرفه متمسكآ...
هذي حالي وحال كل مواطن ولد في بقعة يحكمها من لا أصل له مجهول النسب...
ينسى المواطن ماكان عليه ويسعى لأي عمل وبمقامه وإنسانيته ليس مكترثآ
الجوع يسكن بيت كل مواطن مشردآ أو نازح في وطنه أو خارج الوطن.
والبؤس يحيط من كل جانب.
إن لمتني على ماأقول أو عما أنا فيه سأجيبك بكل صراحة....
أنا المشرد ومثلي من المشردين كثر...
إن عدت من تشردي فأين هو مسكني وأنت تعلم أنه تدمر وأثاث بيتي قد نهب.. وكيف أعود...؟؟
وينتظرني في بلادي الذل والسجن وبأحسن الأحوال القتل.... والجوع في أمعاء أولادي قد سكن ....وإن بقيت في الغربة كيف للمؤجر حقه أدفع. ...إن جاءني مطالبآ وبعالي الصوت يصرخ عاليآ ويعيرني باللجوء ويهددني لبلادي بأن إلى حكامي سيعيدني....
هذا أنا
وأنا من بلاد الخير فيها عامر والمواطن يعيش الفقر واللص بالخيرات يتنعم.
وماذا أقول لزوجتي
إن قالت الاولاد من الجوع. يتضوروا....
وك.غيرهم للمدارس لايذهبوا
فكيف أجيب وأنا كما ترى وتعلم عاجزآ
أو كيف أفكر بما لي أو بما علي وأنا في ذل الغربة وبالفقر غارقا....في وطني غريب وفي غربتي غريب ...
واللص في بلادي حاكمآ والكلب ياصديقي أصبح قاضيآ...والشيخ يفتي بجواز الصبر وأن اللص ولي الله ويدعي بأنه بشرع الله حاكمآ.
أنا المواطن المشرد من بلاده أو كنت في موطني فأنا مشرد....
أفنيت عمري أتغنى بوطن وإذ بوطني اليوم إلي متنكرآ...وما كنت عن خدمته يومآ متخلفآ ولا عن واجباتي تجاهه يومآ متخاذلآ...
( اللص هو الوطن والمواطن مسروق)
هذا هو في بلادنا التعريف بلا تحريف ولا تزييف
هذه الحال إذا كان لك عن أحوالي تسأل...؟
وهذا هو الجواب بلا مواربه ولا نفاق...
إن... زارَنييومآ ضيفآ أو صديق أو كان سائلآ ..
بكيت من قهري ولدمعي خافيآ
ياصديقي
سرق اللصوص أموالنا وسلبوا كرامتنا
دعني أحدثك عن حالي
أصبحت والكلاب في الشوارع سواسية فلا لها مأوى ولا لي منزلا..
( اللصوص سلبوا حقوقنا...)
اليوم بنتي تموت من المرض وابني يمشي حافيآ....هل هذا لسؤالك كافيآ...
إنتظرني سأكمل لك قصتي...
لقد بعت كبدي لأجل أبنائي مرغمآ...والمشتري على بيع أعضائي مساومآ...
يا صاحبي
أرسل لي إن كان لديك لما تبقى من جسدي شاريا....
فلا العلم ينفعني وبالجهل أصبحت غارقآ...
يا صاحبي
الفقر فعلا كافرآ والذل إلي قادما....
لا تسأل عن حالي وبربك بحالي كن منصفآ ألست بكلاب الشوارع متساويآ.
لا تلوم من كان في بلاده إبن عز واليوم صار متسولا...
ومن يلوم من كان لشرفه حافظآ إن باع كبده أو عينه كي لا يهان ولا شرفه منتهكآ....
هذي بلاد العرب وهذا المواطن وكل ذنبه أنه في بقعة إسمها عربية قد خلق....
لا تسأل ...
إن رأيت من كان عالمآ ورأيته اليوم عاملآ في ورشة أو يعمل عتالآ بعربة أو على ظهره بضاعة حاملا....أو رأيت طبيآ في مطعم للصحون جاليآ ...فلا تحزن كثيرآ إن وجدت من في الجيش كان مخلصآ واليوم على باب مسجِدٍ واقفآ.
هذي هي أحوال من تعلم في مدارسهم بأنهم خير أمة أخرجت للناس وأن كل بلاد العرب للمواطن أوطان....
هذه هي الأحوال فبحق من خلق السماء بلا عمد وللأرض قد بسط لا تسأل العربي عن حاله ولا تسأله لما لايبتسم ولما يعيش حياته نكد...بنكد.
A message of pain, I wish I had not been born, and the situation I am in has not reached me, and if there is someone asking about the reason for what I am saying... then setting the situation with the answer is sufficient... homeless... poor... outcast by his nationality, and on top of that, there is no residence or housing... I turn my face away from everyone who knows me and my condition and my condition. He cries over my condition. I am ashamed... My condition is like the condition of every Arab who rents the house. My tears flow, and hunger inhabits the home of everyone who clings to his honor... This is my condition and the condition of every citizen born in a region ruled by someone whose origin is unknown. Lineage... The citizen forgets what he was and strives for any job and his status and humanity, not caring about hunger. Hunger lives in the home of every homeless or displaced citizen in his homeland or outside the country. Misery surrounds all sides. If you blame me for what I say or what I am in, I will answer you frankly.... I am homeless, and there are many homeless people like me... If I return from my homelessness, where is my home, when you know that it was destroyed and the furniture of my house was looted.. And how do I return...?? In my country, humiliation, imprisonment, and, at best, murder await me... and the hunger in my children’s stomachs has subsided... and if I remain abroad, how will the landlord have the right to pay? ...If he comes to me demanding, in a loud voice, shouting loudly, blaming me for asylum, and threatening my country that he will return me to my rulers.... This is me, and I am from a country of goodness in which there is prosperity, and the citizen lives in poverty, and the thief of good things enjoys. What should I say to my wife if she says the children are hungry? They are starving... and others are not going to school. So how can I respond when, as you see and know, I am helpless? Or how can I think about what I have or what I have to do while I am in the humiliation of exile and poverty, drowning... In my homeland, I am a stranger and in my exile, I am a stranger... And the thief in my country is a ruler, and the dog, my friend. He became a judge...and the sheikh issues fatwas regarding the permissibility of patience and that the thief is a guardian of God and claims that he is a ruler according to God’s law. I am a citizen displaced from his country, or if I am in my homeland, then I am displaced.... I have spent my life singing about my homeland, and today my homeland is in disguise... and I have never neglected its service nor neglected my duties towards it... (The thief is the homeland and the citizen is robbed) This In our country, this situation is defined without distortion or falsification. If you have a question about my situation...? And this is the answer without ambiguity or hypocrisy... If... a guest, a friend, or a questioner visited me one day... I cried out of distress and shed tears, my friend. The thieves stole our money and took away our dignity. Let me tell you about my situation. The dogs in the streets have become the same. They have no shelter and I have no home. . .. Oh my friend, send me if you have a share for the rest of my body.... Knowledge is of no use to me, and with ignorance I have become mired... Oh my friend, poverty is truly infidel and humiliation is coming.... Do not ask about my condition, and for God’s sake, be fair, are you not the dogs of the streets? Equally. Do not blame the one who was in his country as a son of Ezz and today he has become a beggar... And who can blame the one who protected his honor if he sold his liver or his eye so that he would not be insulted or his honor violated... These are Arab countries and this citizen, and all his fault is that he was created in a place called Arabia. ...Do not ask... If you see someone who was a scholar and you see him today working in a workshop or working as a porter with a cart or carrying goods on his back...or you see a doctor in a restaurant serving food...do not be very sad if you find someone in the army who was Sincerely, today I am standing at the door of a mosque. These are the conditions of those who are taught in their schools that they are the best nation ever created for mankind and that all Arab countries have homelands for the citizen.... These are the conditions. By the right of the One who created the sky without pillars and the earth was spread out. Do not ask the Arab about his condition and do not ask him why he does not smile and when he lives his life he is sad... testily.
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قلبي الصغير مازال أخضر نديّ
رغم العطش . .
ورغم الحنين . .
لم يصبه التصحر بعد
فما زاره الخريف إلا ضيفاً عابراً
ليتركه غافياً متدثراً في حضن
الشتاء . .
ينتظر قدوم الربيع
وموسم الفرح
✍بقلمي #إيمان_البدري
My little heart is still green and fresh despite the thirst. . Despite the nostalgia. . Desertification has not yet affected it, and autumn visited it only as a passing guest, leaving it asleep, wrapped in the embrace of winter. . Waiting for the arrival of spring and the season of joy with my pen #Eman_Al-Badri
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بقلمي من مذكرات سوسو
الحقوق محفوظةS. B.
يا بيتها
يا بيتها العا اطراف برّيي
الغيرك ما فيه اقبال عينيي
اوبعد افترقنا وما التقى دبار
اوجبران مَرّا اويلتقي مَيي
ولا الكيفك ولك عاد لك يا جار
ولا المَر عمر اوسلّم اعليي
اومتل لِ صرنا ولك غريب اديار
اومينك يا إنتِ اوجوه منسيي
وسنين غربي وما انترك تذكار
وغير وب ذِكرك تدمع اعنيي
اوكترة محبي وب قلب قنطار
وما في لِ قلي اشباك يا خيي
اوأشواق نار اوللقلب زنار
اوزنار نار ابيحترق فيي
اوكومة مشاعر ولٰ حنين امزار
اوغيرك ما فيه ولَ البقي ليي
اودعوي لَ الله اوشوفك اوينهار
ولو كان صدفي ابإم عينيي
اوت قول إنتِ اوبعد عمر اوصار
اوبعدك يا إنتِ ويا الإنت هيّي
اومتل وما إنتِ وبالفرق احتار
اويوم اوصبيي اوتكمش ابديي
اونمشي سوا اوضيعه لَ ضيعه امتار
اوموعد غرامي ابعز شتويي
اورقه اوحنان اوعاطفي وسٰهار
اوبوّسي عا مهل اشفاف مدريي
اوضمي لٰ صدر ويا قلب مزمار
ويا اطلوع ضو اوعيد غنّيي
اوبَين وما كنا ابيوم طير اوطار
اوعش اوبلابل زهر مركيي
وغير لغصون الورد لك ما زار
وغير وعا زند اونام ليليي
اوبعد اوكِبرنا ويا زمن غدار
ووحوش صرنا اوما صفي اخطيي
اوفرقة أحبا بلا زعل وختار
اوقلب اوقسي وما عاد حنيي
اوبحر اوفصل ما بين جار اوجار
ولا شط يجمع لا سفن مَيي
اوهيدا لِ شايف ولٰ فرق شحار
وما في الجمع بقٰلوب فاضيي
وغير ولِ عدنا ابذاكره مشوار
وغير الوجع لسنين باقيي
اودمع وبِ عين اوداير اومندار
اوذكّر بِ فيها اوذكّر ابفيي
الشاعر عبد الكريم سلامه
الملقب بكريم أبو نصري
With my writing from Soso’s memoirs. All rights reserved. S. B. Oh her house, oh her house, the outskirts of my land, others, there is no turn in my eyes, or after we parted, and the house of Ogbran did not meet, nor did he meet my water, nor how are you, and to you it has returned, oh neighbor, nor the bitter Omar, I say hello to me, O like us, and to you, a stranger to the lands of your home, oh you are the faces of my forgotten and the years of my west, and I will not leave A reminder and without mentioning you tears, I mean, I am like a lot of lovers and a pound of heart, and there are no tangles for me, my brother, or longings of fire. The heart has a belt or a belt of fire that burns in me. Or a heap of feelings. And there is no longing for something else or anything else in it. And what remains is for me. I pray to God and I will see you or fall apart. Even if it is a coincidence before my eyes, I can say you. After Omar Ausar, after you, oh you and oh you, it's like you and it's not you, and with the difference, I'm confused today or my boy, or you won't stay forever, I walk together, I'm lost, I'm a waste of meters, I'm on a romantic date, I'm dearest in winter, its leaves are tenderness, my emotions, I'm awake, I'll stay awake, I won't know, embrace my chest, oh my heart is a flute, and oh, the light will come out, or I'll sing a song Yin and what We were a day, a bird, a nest, or a nightingale, a pink blossom, and other branches of roses. You have never visited or been aware of the sleep of the night, or after we have grown up, oh time of treachery and monsters, we have become either clear, make mistakes, or separate, love without anger and choose, or turn hard, and no longer bend or sail, or separate between neighbors and neighbors, and no shore gathers, no ships. I don't see it, I don't see it, I don't see it, I don't see it, and there's nothing in the crowd, with hearts that are empty or not, we return to my memory of a journey and not the pain for the rest of my years, I shed tears in the eyes of Odayr Omandar, I remember the poet Abd al-Karim Salamah, nicknamed Karim Abu Nasri, in it.
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وما زلت أهواك
فارقتني بسوء الظن وانا المكبل في هواك فبات الشك ذنبك
وصبر الوتين على هجرك سنين ولم يلقى بعد الشك أسفك
وتركتني لوحدتي والعناء بقضاء زيف من كبرياء صمتك
ونسيتني وانا الأسير ورضاك بات المصير رهين خفقات ندمك
أخبرني. حلمٱ كنت أو طيفٱ بربك
كيف بالله أفك أسري من بين نبضات قلبك
نويت الرحيل.
بدمع الحنايا لقلب عليل وصمتٱ فوق الجوارح صار للقلب خليل وأمل لنبض ما لة إلا درب التمني سبيل وصبرٱ بجمرٱ دام على أهات الحياة بخيل
ما زلت رغم الضنى اهواك. ويسكن في الحشى نجواك
بشوق التمني ونبض الخطى بطيب الحنين إلى الملتقى برفض لواقع حمل الشقى بنور أشتياق مع نار الفراق إلتقى
بوعد وعهد قدر لة الرحمن يكتب فوق الجبين فيحيي فؤاد
بالرضا يعلوه حبك باليقين. بروحٱ بخلت بماء العطايا للحنايا حتى أرداها ظمأ الأنين
بقلب يسبح في بحر حرمان دون نسيان لحب حزين تردية أمواج لاطمت بالهجر كل نبضات الوتين وحنايا تنادي بالرجاء
من أعلى مأزنه الحنين وروح تأبى بعد الفراق أن تستكين
وما زلت اهواك. وبكل شيئ أراك
فرحٱ وحزنٱ يأسٱ وأملٱ شوقٱ وصبرٱ عمرٱ وقدرٱ. أراك
سكنٱ لنفسٱ قمرٱ وشمسٱ ضعفٱ وبأسٱ صوتٱ وهمسٱ. أهواك
وأحيا راضيٱ ذكراك. وأدعو وأنتظر
قضاء الكريم حتى يحين لخافقي لقياك
عبدالفتاح غريب
And I still love you, and you left me with bad thoughts, and I was chained to your desires, so doubt became your fault, and the two lovers were patient in abandoning you for years, and after doubt did not meet your regret, and you left me alone and the trouble of making up for a lie out of the pride of your silence, and you forgot me while I was a prisoner, and your satisfaction, fate became dependent on the beats of your regret, tell me. You were a dream or a ghost. By God, how can I break out of my captivity from the beating of your heart? I intended to leave. With tender tears for a sick heart and silence over the limbs, the heart has become a friend and hope for a pulse that has nothing but the path of wishing for a way and patience with bloody embers over the groans of life. I am miserly, despite the hardship, I still love you. And your innermost soul dwells with the longing of wishing and the pulse of footsteps with the sweetness of longing to meet with rejection of the reality of carrying misery with the light of longing with the fire of separation. He met with a promise and covenant that the Most Merciful has destined to write on the forehead, so Fouad greets with contentment, and your love is surmounted by certainty. With a soul that was stingy with the water of gifts to affection until it was quenched by thirst, moaning with a heart that swims in a sea of deprivation without forgetting a sad love, the crash of waves crashing with abandonment, all the pulses of love, and affection calls for hope from the top of the trough of nostalgia, and a soul that refuses to calm down after separation, and I still love you. And in everything I see you: joy and sadness, despair and hope, longing and patience, life and destiny. I see you as a dwelling for the soul of a moon and a sun, weakness and strength, a voice and a whisper. I love you and I live happily reminiscing about you. I pray and wait for the noble decree until the time comes for my brother to meet you, Abdel Fattah Gharib
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لمسة إيديك مدوباني
نظرة عنيك مجناني
كل حاجه فيك وحشاني
أعمل إيه
أنام ألاقيك بطل أحلامي
أصحي أشوف قدامي
سيرتك ما بتفارق كلامي
قولي ليه
شاغلني وساكن كياني
وفي ليك كل حناني
ياحب نساني أحزاني
بنظرة عنيه
قلبك بقي هو أوطاني
وعنيك مقري وعنواني
حبك دا فرحة زماني
لقلبي بهديه
بتمني أضمك لأحضاني
وروحك تكون عشقاني
وإيديك الدافيه ضماني
دا اللي بحلم بيه
تحياتي سفيرة الشعراء
لبني فهمي
The touch of your hands makes me mad. The look in your eyes makes me crazy. Everything about you makes me crazy. I miss what I should do. I sleep to find you, the hero of my dreams. I wake up and see your biography in front of me. You never leave my words. Tell me, why do you occupy me and live in my being? And in you is all my tenderness, my love. Forget me of my sorrows. With a look in his eyes, your heart has become my homeland, and your eyes are my home and address. Your love is the joy of my time with a gift. I wish to hold you in my arms, and your soul will be my love, and your warm hands will be my guarantee, this is what I dream of. Greetings, Ambassador of Poets, Lubna Fahmy
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رسالة للمجهول
يا ساهر الليل لا . تلعب .. على .. عقلي
ما اظن غيرك على شط الهوى سهران
حتى اللي قلبك يسميه. بالحشا خلّي
راوي .... محبّة وانته للأسف عطشان
تشكي من الليل . وكم مثلك وكم مثلي
عايش بشط الهواء لن يغمض الأجفان
وحيد عطشان في حب الهلي مبلي
يداعب اوتار هاجوسه .. بنغم الدان
يناشد ... الريح .. إذا هزة من القبلي
تشيل احاسيس فياضة لقمري البان
مظلوم لي عن عيون الغالية اتخلي
وبات في عزلته من فقدها طفشان
يتذكر ايام سُعده .... كم بها اتسلي
وذاق طعم السّعادة في هواها الوان
بقلم د. الشاعر أبو نادر محمد بن عطاف
A message to the unknown, O sleeper of the night, no. You play.. on.. my mind, I don't think anyone else is on the beach of love, staying up late even for what your heart calls it. With the tummy, let me tell you....loving, and unfortunately you are thirsty and complaining about the night. How many are like you and how many like me are living in the sea of the air. He will not close his eyelids. Lonely, thirsty, in love with the wet water. Striking the strings of his obsession.. With the tune of the Dan, he calls out to... the wind.. If a tremor from the front removes the overflowing feelings of my moon, oppressed by me, from the eyes of the dear, I abandon him, and he sleeps in his solitude from the loss of her. Tafshan remembers his happy days.... How much he had fun during them and tasted the taste of happiness in her air. Colors by Dr. The poet Abu Nader Muhammad bin Attaf
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حزن راقٍ
في جوف حرف دفنتُ الصمت
وعلى جرفِ هاوية قلمتُ أظافرَ الألم
آثرتُ الرحيل وصرخاتي كتمت
بثَّ شكواي السرد من نزفِ قلم
وأودعتُ النص على جبين تاريخٍ يحترم
بكلمات أبيّة تأبى المهانة..
أصيلةٍ .. عصيةٍ رغم شقوق الصدع
يا رجيع الخذلان من معروف.. ودع
يأس الكبد من فلذةٍ والأيادي نُفِضت
وهَجير الدمع في المآقي استسلم
يا مجيبَ الدعاء، صدى مواجعي تسمع
إليكَ وحدكَ الأكفُّ تُرفع
شُد أزري
قوِّ صبري
علِّ قدري
واجعلني من أولي العزم والهمم
لا تنحني لي قامة
ولا تذلُ لي هامة
واجعلني كما عهدي دومًا منصورة
ورغم الخذلان خواطري مجبورة
والأجمل موفورٌ
في ثنايا القادم
وفاء داري/فلسطين
Subtle sadness in the depths of a letter I buried silence and on the precipice of an abyss I trimmed the nails of pain I chose to leave and my cries I silenced the broadcast of my narrative complaint from the bleeding of a pen and I deposited the text on the forehead of a history to be respected with proud words that refuse to be humiliated.. Authentic.. disobedient despite the cracks of the rift O return to disappointment from favor.. and bid farewell The liver despairs of pleasure, and the hands are empty, and the tears are flowing in the wells. Surrender, O answerer of supplication, the echo of my pains hears to you alone, the palms lift up my burden, strengthen my patience over my destiny, and make me one of those with determination and determination, do not bow down to me in stature, and do not humiliate me in the slightest, and make me always victorious, as always, and despite disappointment, my thoughts are forced. The most beautiful is available in the upcoming Wafa Dari / Palestine
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.. Bleeding pen. Written by the poet. D. Abeer Eid.. نزيف القلم الشاعرة. د. عبير عيد.
نزيف القلم ...
أكتب يا قلم قصتي فالدمع فاض من عيني حتى أثقل مقلتي.
ومضيت في طريقي شاردة من يعلم بحالي و من يدري حيرتي
أغلقت على نفسي كل النوافذ والأبواب ﻷخفي عن الناس دمعتي
و أخفيت الآمي من أحزاني بين ضلوعي و أظهرت لكم بسمتي
فامتلأ قلبي بالهموم حتى أهم بالصراخ و فاضت منه عبرتي
و الروح حبست أنينها من ظلم البشر حتى زادت منهم وحشتي
فتركت كل شئ وراءي و قطعت دربي ﻹمحو عن الروح غربتي
لم يعد في إلا بقايا مبعثرة و أشلاء لجروح عانيتها بذنب برائتي
حاولت أن أداوي نزف جراحي لعلي أستعيد ثباتي و تعود بهجتي
فلتكتب يا قلم ليجف نزف وريدي فإنه لازال لثوب الألم يرتدي
فلتصرخ أحبارك من بين أناملي حتى يهدأ قلبي وتطمئن نبضتي
أكتب صدقاً ينطق عنك حقاً فأنت السلاح على الظالم و المعتدي
تعب المشوار و باتت النفس تئن في انهيار وأنا بالصمود أقتدي
و بعزة نفسي أرفع رأسي حرة أبية ولا ولن بها أنحني أو أفتدي
بقلمي د.عبيرعيد
مصر
Bleeding pen... I write my story, O pen, as tears flooded from my eyes until they weighed down my eyeballs. And I went on my way, distracted. Who knows about my condition and who knows my confusion? I closed all the windows and doors to myself to hide my tears from people. I hid my pain from my sorrows between my ribs and I showed you my smile. So my heart was filled with worries until I started screaming and my expression overflowed from it. And the soul held back its groans from the injustice of humans until... My loneliness increased for them, so I left everything behind me and cut off my path to erase my estrangement from the soul. There was nothing left in me except scattered remains and pieces of wounds I suffered through the sin of my innocence. I tried to heal the bleeding wounds so that I might regain my stability and return my joy. Write, O pen. Let my veins bleed dry, for the garment of pain is still wearing. Let your inks cry out. From between my fingertips, until my heart is calm and my pulse is reassured, I write a truth that speaks truth about you, for you are the weapon against the oppressor and the aggressor. The journey is tired, and the soul is groaning in collapse, and I imitate with steadfastness, and with self-esteem I raise my head, free and proud, and I will not bow down or redeem it with my pen, Dr. Abeer Eid Misr.
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حلم العمر
في الزحمة تاهت
مننا كل المعاني
كل الحكايات والاغاني
ذكريات العمر كله
كان صحابي
كان جيراني
كل احلامي حتي الاماني
عمري ضاع من سنين
منين اجيب عمر تاني
دموعي نزلت لما فجأة
قلب حن ل دنيتي
ل حتتي لاهلي وجيراني
افتكرت حب
ضاع من سنين
موت جوايا الاماني
اه ياعمر فات وعدى
وحلم عمري تاه من زماني
في الزحمة تاهت
مننا كل المعاني
بقلمي
إبراهيم مصطفي فرحات
The dream of a lifetime in the crowd. All the meanings, all the stories and songs, memories of a whole life. He was my friends. He was my neighbors. All my dreams, even my hopes. My life has been lost for years. Where can I get another life? My tears fell when suddenly a heart yearned for my world, even for my family and neighbors. I remembered a love lost for years. The death inside me of hopes. Oh Omar, my promise has passed and the dream of my life has been lost from my time in the crowd. All meanings have been lost from us. Written by Ibrahim Mustafa Farhat
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بيني وبينك
تراتيل #شوقا_وأمنيات
حنين جعلتني قيد الهوى
حين بشهد قافيتك أذبتني
ولعمق البحر جذبتني
وبنصف الطريق تركتني
عودتني ترويج الحروف
فأعلنت حبك في قصيدتي
حروفهانبض يحاكي نبضك
وصدى صوت تنهيدتي
كن قربي وقل أحبك
قد أكون مودعا
إني أحبك فٱعذرني
نبضات قلبي لهواك
تسبقني
بقلم.. Karolina Ab
Between you and me hymns #longing_and_wishes Nostalgia You kept me in love When I witnessed your rhyme You melted me And to the depth of the sea You attracted me And halfway you left me You brought me back to promote letters So you declared your love in my poem Its letters A pulse that mimics your pulse And the echo of the sound of my sigh Be near me and say I love you I may be bidding farewell I love you So excuse me My heartbeats for your love precede me
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في ضيا هديكَ قد جلسنا ..
وفي هيامٍ قد لمسنا ..
كيفَ باتَ ذا القلبُ أسيرا
لنوركَ يا رسول اللهْ
.................
يا طاهره يا ام الغلابه
يا مجمعه الاحباب
يا حته جايه من السماء
فيكي القلب داب
عشقك رساله مخلده
فيكي ما نلقي عذاب
ارضك من الجنه مصوره
ونيلك ده كله حياه
تطلع الشمس تبوس ايديك
طالبه امل ونجاه
يامصر يا امي
ياللي مليش غير حضنك خوديني
يمايا بين ايدك ده اللي انا بترجاه
يابيت كبير بيحرسه اسود كتير وصقور
ونيلك شريان بينبض يحيي قلوب للدهور
ماشي بيزرع حب ويوفي نظور ونظور
واصل ياامي للسما بيعزق بالارض بذور
ياجامعه ولادك كلهم
ايد احمد في ايد مينا
لمي ولادك يابلد وف حضنك خودينا
انتي البدايه والنهايه والعمر اللي فات فينا
رضاكي يمايا لو غلطنا بحضنك غطينا
ياطاهره يا ام الغلابه يا مجمعه الاحباب
......
In the light of your guidance we have sat... and in a dream we have touched... How has the heart become a prisoner of your light, O Messenger of God... O pure one, O mother of the destitute, O gathering of loved ones, O the coming time... From the sky in you, the heart is always in love with you. An immortal message in you. We do not cast the torment of your land. From heaven, it is depicted. And your victory is all life. The sun rises and kisses your hands asking for hope and salvation. O Egypt, my mother, who has nothing but your embrace. Take me. Maya in your hands. This is what I am hoping for. O big house guarded by many lions and hawks. And your access is an artery. It beats and revives hearts for eternity. It is walking. It plants love and fulfills sight and sight. He continues, mother, to the sky. He claws seeds into the earth, O university of all your children. Ahmed’s hand is in Mina’s hand. Lammi is your children, O country, and in your embrace, take us. You are the beginning and the end. And the age that passed us by is your satisfaction, O Maya, if we make a mistake in your embrace, cover us, O pure one, O mother of the poor, O gathering of loved ones. ......
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..
.. إعصار الدهماء
..
بانت كـ غُـر الليـل دهمائهـا العجب
تتلو بـلا إستثنـاء بالجمـع تـرتيــلا
زاحت كمـا الإعصـار عنها لا وصب
يـا خيلهـا والزحـف فرسـانٌ أبابيلا
مـا ضرهـا تكرار من ردفها أو تعب
يا جِـدُّهـا أفعـال مـا درّت أقـاويلا
شـاهـت كـ طيـر البـاز قـظ الطلب
أرخت بـلا إستحياء للقنص تقبيلا
تنهش رق الضبع والسبع ما اقترب
يا فيضها والظـل قـد فاض تظليلا
يا وصفها ذا النون خَطبٌ فانتسب
يا فجرهـا الطوفان تنّورها الـ غيلا
باالله ما الناجي ومنجيها الغضب؟
مَْنّ يرحم الأموات مـا بعـد تكبيلا.
..
. قلمي
. عباس ابو عادل
. العــ🇮🇶ــراق
.. .. The hurricane of the mobs.. She appeared like the night's darkness. Her wondrous mobs recited, without exception, a hymn in the plural. She moved away from her like a hurricane. Oh, her horses, and the marching are Ababila's knights. Repetition of her buttocks or fatigue did not harm her. Oh her grandfather, deeds are not words She watched like a goshawk at the time of request. She fell asleep Without shying away from the sniper, kissing the hyena's neck and the seven, it has not approached, oh its overflow and the shadow has overflowed with shading, oh its description, the N is a speech, so attribute it, oh its dawn, the flood, its enlightenment is the rage, in God, what is the survivor and its savior, wrath? Who has mercy on the dead after they are bound? .. . My pen. Abbas Abu Adel. Iraq
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