- كتب بواسطة: ا. د. هاشم عبود الموسوي
للدكتور هاشم عبود الموسوي
A Lost Dream
By: Prof.Dr.Hashim Abood Al-Mousawi
Translated by Prof.Dr.Hameed Al-Hamadi
Oh! You City! Do you know when once a poet compared what he was bearing of concerns to what you were bearing? He, astonishingly, found that your concerns were much more than his.
A Lost Dream
When the City put her ear on the earth's heart, she heard her talking about her love to rain!
And when she put her ear on the water's heart, she heard him talking about his love to springs!
And when she put her ear on a tree's heart, she heard her talking about her love to her leaves!
And when she, this time, put her ear on the heart of love, himself, she heard him talking about his yearning to the far off years of his beautiful age!
A Tunnel of Alienation
I felt the hours of alienation like a train moving to and fro without an end opening its door at the stations of my waiting point, in order for hundreds of sighs to get on its carts, and when it entered into the endless long, long tunnel of alienation, rivers and rivers of my tears poured down onto it. The train continued boring, talking me far, far away without stoppage! My City! Perhaps, you would be the last station of alienation.
Every time, when my love becomes rain, I be nothing but a drop of water into it, and when my love changes into a flame, I stay, steadfastly, inside it, till burning! But you, City! I'll reveal a secret stronger than that to you since rain and fire will stay into you! I should care for nothing except to stay alive!
When a rose writes down her memories, half of those memories will be on her love to water!
And when water, in turn, writes down his memories, half of his memories will be on his love to springs!
And when a forest of date-palms writes down her memories, half of her memories will be on her love to the City!
Finally, when the City writes down her memories, all memories she writes, from beginning to end, will be on her everlasting love to the youth of her temptress days.
On one of my alienation days, as I was searching in the corners of my bag, I found some old soil grains stuck into it.
I gathered them one by one, kissed them, and pasted them on my praying-carpet in order for them to touch my fore-head when I kneel down every praying time!
الآراء الواردة في المقال لا تمثل رأي صحيفة المثقف بالضرورة، ويتحمل الكاتب جميع التبعات القانونية المترتبة عليها.