An extract from my 2007 diary, where I took my first (and only) shot at crafting a Shakespearean sonnet (at al-Baath University in Homs) —revised on 8 October 2024.
Homs –
On a stormy day, along the street,
I walked alone beneath the rain.
The wind, so fierce, swept through my feet,
While in my ears, cold echoed pain.
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.
Adapted from my December 2006 Arabic diary. Image by Thomas Svensson
DAMASCUS –
Wake me when September ends—
since it arrived, our world has bled.
The forests in Haya’s green eyes caught fire,
and no rain could put out their pyre.
The springs of sweetness on her lips ran dry,
and even stone wept at such thirst nearby.
Disclaimer
This poem was written in 2006, when I was a teenager. It reflects a personal perspective shaped by that time and by my own struggles with identity, relationships, and the social pressures surrounding ideas of freedom and self-expression.
The poem is not a judgment of women or men, nor a commentary on how anyone should dress or present themselves. A woman’s body is her own medium—whether veiled or exposed, entirely by her own choice. Likewise, this text is not a call to change behavior, but a record of how certain social norms appeared to me at that age.
What the poem questions is the gap I perceived, as a young person, between outward displays of “liberty” and lived experiences that still felt restrictive, manipulative, or unfree. It is a critique of appearances and assumptions—not of bodies, genders, or individual choices.
This work is shared as a historical diary piece, not as a contemporary position or universal claim.
Adapted from my Arabic diary (5 December 2006) with the help of AI.
The original poem appears below.Image by Pixabay
Damascus —
Undress as you please—
ignite the streets in flame,
extinguish evening’s stars, erase their name.
Claim all you want of progress and revolt,
of skies deemed backward, heaven’s fault.
Proclaim yourself an icon, raised on high,
the sovereign of women, crowned to fly.
Lay claim to wisdom, prophecy, and grace—
invent whatever suits you, any face.
Written during the 2006 Lebanon War.
This poem is a literary and moral lament addressing war, occupation, and internal political decay.
It condemns violence and betrayal by states and regimes — not peoples, religions, or identities.The English version is an adaptation produced with the assistance of AI.
The original Arabic text appears further below.Image by Antoun Boustani
Wadi Barada —
My longing—I am the goldfinch’s cry,
By it the orchards green and rise.
Do not mistake my love for theirs:
Mine is the bloodline; theirs, a mare.
Roumani Line 