You had not reached your twentieth year—
So why did you come searching here?
You stood before me—your breasts a choir,
Around your waist, a thousand stars on fire.
You stirred in me old glories gone,
And a Zahra I once leaned upon.
I do not know how I let her slip—
She vanished one day from my grip.
From where, O peak of spring, came you?
And whence this sorrow that I knew?
While I sit on time’s relentless wheel,
Barely able my own name to feel.
The years have fed upon my age,
And barred the path to dreams I’d wage.
Green-eyed one, forgive me—please,
I am but scraps of faded dreams.
I lived my life among poisons deep,
And by my own hand fell in sleep.
I am a danger—don’t you grieve,
If you must go, and choose to leave.
Enough for me—you came, and so
Sleep is no longer lost below.
A critique of the Syrian traditional anti-Assad opposition and its failure to envision a shared post-Assad future—one that prolonged the regime and deepened Syria’s fragmentation.
English adaptation assisted by AI, preserving the original Arabic spirit.
عقدكِ الثّاني لم تتمّي
فلما أتيتي تبحثين عنّي؟
وقفتي أمامي ، و نهديكِ جوقةٌ
و حول خصرِكِ دارَ ألفُ نجمِ
ذكّرتني بأمجادٍ عشتُها
و زهراءٍ عرفتُ ذاتَ يومِ
لا أدري كيف أنا أضعتها
ذهبتْ – ذاتَ يومٍ – دون علمي
مِن أين يا أوجَ الرّبيعِ أتيتني؟
مِن أين ، يا تُرى ، جاء همّي!
و أنا على عجل الزّمانِ مقعدٌ
بالكاد أستطيعُ لفظ اسمي
أكل الدّهرُ مِن عمري سنيناً
حالتْ دون تحقيقِ حلمي
خضراءُ العينينِ اعذريني
فأنا بقايا مِن بقايا وهمِ
عشتُ حياتي بين السّمومِ
و سقطتُ مقتولاً بفعلِ سمّي
خطرٌ أنا عليكِ ، لا لا تحزني
إذا ذهبتِ عنّي دونَ لثمِ
يكفيني أنّكِ جئتِ ، فلا
يستحيل بعد اليومِ نومي
Roumani Line 