Written in Arabic in November 2005. This English version is an adaptation created with the assistance of AI. The original poem follows.
Image by NEOSiAM 2024+
Damascus —
To you, my lady—
with flowers I write my greeting clear.
I love to start all love with flowers,
and even wars with flowers here;
for flowers, to me, are the spine of courage,
the quiet core of what is dear.
(Originally written as “to my first love”) — This poem was written in November 2005 as a love letter and breakup letter to my first girlfriend. The English version is a faithful adaptation of the original Arabic poem, with the help of AI. The original Arabic text appears below.
Damascus —
Because words get lost,
and talk keeps branching wide,
and every time it branches,
the goal drifts farther aside.
Because history gets written,
I chose to fall silent—
and write.
This piece is an English adaptation of a poem from my Arabic diary (2005),
developed with the assistance of AI. The original verse is included below.
Damascus —
Flore—
a flower born in France’s plains,
she speaks to me through seas and rains,
past countless isles and distant shores,
through harbors, tides, and open doors.
Her eyes are green with dreaming sight,
of justice framed in living light,
of freedom born at life’s first breath,
and carried on beyond all death.
Adapted from my May 2006 Arabic diary, with the help of AI. The original poem appears below.
Image by Tiarra Sorte
Damascus —
A year after our last goodbye,
you called—asked how my days go by,
asked of the wound that still won’t seal,
the one your hands carved deep in steel,
a wretched ring upon your hand
that crushed my kingdom as it fell.
Originally written in Arabic for my mother on Syrian Mother’s Day (March 21). This English version is an adaptation created with the help of AI. The original poem appears below.
Image by Atlantic Ambience
Today is your day—
each year you are my lady still,
each year a fortress standing tall,
a jasmine blooming in Damascus’ springtime thrill.
Remain my love, my closest friend;
may your hands forever soothe my hair,
may all my hopes be drawn each dawn
and rest upon your smiling care.
Roumani Line 