Amani

Disclaimer: “Amani” is a short sonnet I wrote in Arabic on 19 January 2007. The original version can be found below. | Image by Vika Glitter

Ghouta –

The years fold up our lives, retreating fast,
Our dreams may come to be—or may not last.

We weep for memories of childhood’s grace,
As though sad tears could heal that vanished place.

Life put an end to innocence we knew,
And on its path no promise ever grew.

Our minds were once serene, a native state,
Till madness pressed them narrow, tight with weight.

How sweet a single childhood day would be,
A day withdrawn from hardened certainty—

An age of innocence returned once more,
Where eyes would play in spring, as they before.

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تَطْوي مِن أعمارِنا السِّنينُ
و يَكونُ حُلمُنا أو لا يكونُ

نَبْكي على ذِكرى مِن الطّفولةْ
و ليتَهُ يُشفى بدَمعِهِ الحَزينُ

قَضَتْ على بَراءَتنا الحياةُ
و ليسَ على دَربِ الحياةِ ضَمانُ

صفاءُ العقولِ كانَ مِن سجيّتِنا
و أضاقَ على عقولِنا الجّنونُ

يا حبّذا يومٌ مِن الطّفولةْ
يَبْتَعِدُ فيهِ عنّا اليقينُ

و يعود لنا عصرٌ مِن البراءةْ
تلهو على ربيعِه العيونُ