tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-188923622024-03-07T07:35:54.868+00:00TassourtEchoes from Essaouira MoroccoUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger71125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892362.post-22634898032748075692010-11-28T12:14:00.006+00:002010-11-28T12:32:37.267+00:00أحداث العيون: فاجعة وطنية<object width="640" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/0Hv7g1AxIuQ?fs=1&hl=fr_FR"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/0Hv7g1AxIuQ?fs=1&hl=fr_FR" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="640" height="385"></embed></object><br /><br /><span lang="AR-MA"><p dir="rtl" align="justify"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"><strong></strong></span></p><p dir="rtl" align="justify"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"><strong>تحية لإخواننا الصحراويين الشرفاء</strong></span></span><span style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong><span lang="FR"> </span><span lang="AR-MA">المتشبتين</span><span lang="FR"> </span><span lang="AR-MA">بمغربيتهم</span><span lang="FR"> </span><span lang="AR-MA">وبالتوابث</span><span lang="FR"> </span><span lang="AR-MA">الوطنية تحت ظل العلم المغربي وعاهل البلاد وتحية لقوات الأمن والدرك وللقوات</span><span lang="FR"> </span><span lang="AR-MA">المساعدة وللقوات</span><span lang="FR"> </span><span lang="AR-MA">المسلحة الملكية</span><span lang="FR"> </span><span lang="AR-MA">الباسلة</span><span lang="FR"> </span><span lang="AR-MA">الحامية لوحدتنا الترابية من</span><span lang="FR"> </span><span lang="AR-MA">طنجة</span><span lang="FR"> </span><span lang="AR-MA">إلى</span><span lang="FR"> </span><span lang="AR-MA">الكويرة</span><span lang="FR"> </span><span lang="AR-MA">ولوحدة</span><span lang="FR"> </span><span lang="AR-MA">الشعب المغربي العربي المسلم دون أي تمييز بين الصحراوي</span><span lang="FR"> </span><span lang="AR-MA">والأمازيغي</span><span lang="FR"> . </span><span lang="AR-MA">وليرحم الله عز وجل من سقطوا في سبيل الحق على أرض صحرائنا الحبيبة من رجال</span><span lang="FR"> </span><span lang="AR-MA">الأمن</span><span lang="FR"> . </span><span lang="AR-MA">إن ما حدث في العيون فاجعة</span><span lang="FR"> </span><span lang="AR-MA">وطنية</span><span lang="FR"> </span><span lang="AR-MA">أدمت</span><span lang="FR"> </span><span lang="AR-MA">قلوب المغاربة قاطبة وجعلتهم يتحسرون على استباحة الأرواح والممتلكات العمومية والخاصة والعتو في أرض العيون فساداً. تعددت الأسباب لكن الفاجعة واحدة</span><span lang="FR">. </p></span></strong></span></span><span lang="AR-MA"><p dir="rtl" align="justify"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"><strong>الصحراويون أحرار في بلدهم يمارسون حقوقهم الوطنية كاملة في أي رقعة من التراب الوطني لافرق بينهم وبين باقي المغاربة ولا وجود لأي نوع من الحساسية ضدهم أينما كانوا . وتلك طبيعة الشعب المغربي المضياف بمختلف مكوناته في السفوح والجبال وفي الشواطي كما في الصحراء.</strong></span></p><p dir="rtl" align="justify"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"><strong>إن شرائح اجتماعية عريضة من الشعب المغربي من طنجة إلى الكويرة تعاني من الفقر ومن غلاء المعيشة ومن أزمة السكن ومن العطالة ومن سوء التدبير ومن المحسوبية ومن الزبونية ومن الارتشاء ومن استغلال النفوذ ومن شراءأصوات الناخبين ومن انتشار الفكر الظلامي ومن التهميش الاجتماعي ومن التفاوت الصارخ بين المناطق في الاستفاذة من المخدمات العمومية . تلك أمراض خبيثة متفشية عبر العالم يجب أن نتجند جميعاً كمغاربة لمكافحتها كما تكافح الأوبئة . نكافحها بالانخراط في العمل السياسي المسؤول وفي العمل النقابي وفي هيئات المجتمع المدني الهاذفة وبدعم الإعلام الحر المتشبع بالقيم الوطنية وبأخلاقيات المهنة.</strong></span></p><p align="justify"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"><strong>السؤال المطروح هو: هل كانت هناك دواع وإكراهات حقيقية جعلت من إقامة مخيم " أكديم إزيك " ضرورة قصوى لا بديل عنها في ظل الحرب الإعلامية المغرضة التي تشنها الجزائر ومن تدعمهم من الانفصاليين وفي ظل تخليذ ذكرى المسيرة الخضراء وموعد المفاوضات غير المباشرة برعاية الأمم المتحدة ؟</strong> </span></p></span><div class="blogger-post-footer">In poetry or in prose and no matter what the language or the medium is, human emotions and passions and feelings of love and brotherhood speak for themselves trenscending all frontiers
I APPRECIATE GETTING FEEDBACK FROM EVERYBODY.THANKS</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892362.post-85918613648717802612010-05-02T16:22:00.010+00:002010-05-02T21:22:21.513+00:00خطبة الهندي الأحمر - The Speech of the Red Indian - By Mahmoud Darwish<div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:78%;color:#ff0000;"><em>Extract from the poem</em></span></strong></div><p align="center"><object width="445" height="364"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube-nocookie.com/v/_Wjec0W5pjo&hl=fr_FR&fs=1&rel=0&border=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube-nocookie.com/v/_Wjec0W5pjo&hl=fr_FR&fs=1&rel=0&border=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="445" height="364"></embed></object><span style="font-family:verdana;"></p><p align="left"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US" lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:78%;">Tending our last fires<br />we fail to acknowledge your greetings.<?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" /><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p><p align="left"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US" lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:78%;">Don't write commandments<br />from your new steel god for us.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p><p align="left"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US" lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:78%;">Don't demand peace treaties from the dead.<br />There's no one left to greet you in peace,<br />which is nowhere to be seen.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p><p align="left"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US" lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:78%;">We lived and flourished before the onslaught of<br />English guns, French wine and influenza,<br />living in harmony side by side with the Deer People,<br />learning our oral history by heart.<br />We brought you tidings of innocence and daisies.<br />But you have your god and we have ours.<br />You have your past and we have ours.<br />Time is a river<br />blurred by the tears we gaze through.<br />But don't you ever<br />memorize a few lines of poetry, perhaps,<br />to restrain yourself from massacre?<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p><p align="left"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US" lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:78%;">Weren't you born of a woman?<br />Didn't you suckle the milk of longing<br />from your mother as we did?<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p><p align="left"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US" lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:78%;">Didn't you attach paper wings to your shoulders<br />to chase swallows as we did?<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p><p align="left"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US" lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:78%;">We brought you tidings of the Spring.<br />(Don't point your guns at us!)<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p><p align="left"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US" lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:78%;">We can exchange gifts, we can sing:<br />My people were here once, then they died here...<br /></span><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:78%;">Chestnut trees hide their souls here.<br />My people will return in the air,<br />in water<br />in light...</span><o:p></o:p></span></p><p align="left"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US" lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:78%;">Take my motherland by the sword!<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p><p align="left"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US" lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:78%;">I refuse to sign a treaty between victim and killer.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p><p align="left"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US" lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:78%;">I refuse to sign a bill of sale<br />that takes possession<br />of so much as one inch of my weed patch,<br />of so much as one inch of my cornfield<br />even if it's my last salutation to the sun!<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p><p align="left"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US" lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:78%;">As I wade into the river wrapped in my name only<br />I know I'm returning to my mother's bosom<br />so that you, white master, can enter your Age.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p><p align="left"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US" lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:78%;">Enter your brutal statues of liberty over my corpse.<br />Engrave your iron crosses on my stony shadow,<br />for soon I will rise to the height of the song<br />sung by those multitudes suicided by their<br />dispersion through history<br />at a mass where our voices will soar like birds:<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p><p align="left"><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:78%;">Here strangers won<br /></span><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:78%;">over salt and sea mixed with clouds.<br />Here strangers won<br />over corn husks within us<br />as they laid down their cables for<br />lightning and electricity.<br /><br />Here's where the grieving eagle<br />dived to his death.<br />Here's where strangers won over us<br />leaving us nothing for the New Age.<br /><br />Here our bodies evaporate, cloud by cloud, into space.<br />Here our spirits glow, star by star, in the sky of song.</span><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US" lang="EN-US"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p align="left"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US" lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:78%;">6<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p><p align="left"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US" lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:78%;">A long time will have to go by before our<br />present becomes our past, just like us.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p><p align="left"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US" lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:78%;">We will face our death, but first<br />we'll defend the trees we wear.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p><p align="left"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US" lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:78%;">We'll venerate the bell of night, the moon<br />hanging over our shacks.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p><p align="left"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US" lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:78%;">We'll defend our leaping deer,<br />the clay of our jars, the feathers<br />in the wings of our last songs.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p><p align="left"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US" lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:78%;">Soon you'll raise your world over ours,<br />blazing a trail from our graveyards to a satellite.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p><p align="left"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US" lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:78%;">This is the Iron Age: distilled from a lump of coal,<br />champagne bubbling for the mighty!<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p><p align="left"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US" lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:78%;">There are dead and there are colonies.<br />There are dead and there are bulldozers.<br />There are dead and there are hospitals.<br />There are dead and there are radar screens<br />to observe the dead<br />as they die more than once in this life,<br />screens to observe the dead who live on after death<br />as well as those who die<br />to lift the earth above all that has died.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p><p align="left"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US" lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:78%;">O white master, where are you taking my people<br />and yours?<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p><p align="left"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US" lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:78%;">Into what abyss<br />is this robot bristling with aircraft carriers and jets<br />consigning the earth?<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p><p align="left"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US" lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:78%;">To what fathomless pit<br />will you descend?<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p><p align="left"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US" lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:78%;">It's your to decide.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p><p align="left"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US" lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:78%;">A new Rome, a technological Sparta and an<br />ideology for the insane...<br />but we'd rather depart from an Age<br />our minds can't accept.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p><p align="left"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US" lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:78%;">Once a people,<br />now we'd rather flock to the land of birds.<br />We'll take a peek at our homeland through stones,<br />glimpse it through openings in clouds,<br />through the speech of stars,<br />through the air suspended above lakes,<br />between soft tassel fringes in ears of corn.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p><p align="left"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US" lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:78%;">We'll emerge from the flower of the grave.<br />We'll lean out of the poplar's leaves<br />of all that besieges you, O white man,<br />of all the dead who are still dying,<br />both those who live and those<br />who return to tell the tale.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p><p align="left"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US" lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:78%;">Let's give the earth enough time to tell<br />the whole truth about your and us.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p><p align="left"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US" lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:78%;">The whole truth about us.<br />The whole truth about you.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p><p align="left"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US" lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:78%;">7<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p><p align="left"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US" lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:78%;">In rooms you build,<br />the dead are already asleep.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p><p align="left"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US" lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:78%;">Over bridges you construct,<br />the dead are already passing.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p><p align="left"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US" lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:78%;">There are dead who light up the night<br />of butterflies,<br />and the dead who come at dawn<br />to drink your tea<br />as peaceful as on the day your<br />guns mowed them down.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p><p align="left"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US" lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:78%;">O you who are guests in this place,<br />leave a few chairs empty<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p><p align="left"></span><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US" lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:78%;">for your hosts to read out<br />the conditions for peace<br />in a treaty with the dead.</span></span><span content="text/html; charset=windows-1252"><a href="http://www.thecornerreport.com/index.php?title=speech_of_the_red_indian&more=1&c=1&tb=1&pb=1" target="_blank"><span style="font-size:78%;"><br /></span><span style="font-size:85%;color:#ff6600;">Translated by Sargon</span></a><br /><?xml:namespace prefix = font-family /><font-family:trebuchet><span style="font-size:85%;color:#ff6600;">October 1992 (From: Eleven Planets</span>. </span></p><p></p><br /></font-family:trebuchet><div class="blogger-post-footer">In poetry or in prose and no matter what the language or the medium is, human emotions and passions and feelings of love and brotherhood speak for themselves trenscending all frontiers
I APPRECIATE GETTING FEEDBACK FROM EVERYBODY.THANKS</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892362.post-90041900058103663872009-08-14T15:02:00.010+00:002009-08-14T17:51:37.354+00:00In Memory of Mahmoud Darwish<div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt_aNIXue7l-YJBLbuxigmGWNF5uyY3b4AJhlw3nocLCfaccTUyhqXT_nA5tWodnlUZTkrpPxK7gWlowcZ5tHE-OaqC1dmxUOE5tN-AyAEhBbpu7P693K8hMC4PkeSZQKto5-X/s1600-h/HBISCUS+7.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369845434860712306" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt_aNIXue7l-YJBLbuxigmGWNF5uyY3b4AJhlw3nocLCfaccTUyhqXT_nA5tWodnlUZTkrpPxK7gWlowcZ5tHE-OaqC1dmxUOE5tN-AyAEhBbpu7P693K8hMC4PkeSZQKto5-X/s400/HBISCUS+7.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;"> </span><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><em><span style="color:#3333ff;">Photo: Dreamer</span></em><em> </em><br /></span><br /></span><div align="left"><br /></div><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"></span><br /><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"><strong>On this Land, there's what's worth living</strong></span></div><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"></span></strong><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">There’s on this land </span><br /></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">what is worth living,<br />The recurring of April,<br />the smell of bread at dawn,<br />A woman’s amulet for men ,<br />Aeschylus’s writings,<br />the beginning of love,<br />Grass on a stone,<br />mothers standing on the thread of a flute,<br />and the invaders fear of memories.<br />There’s on this land what is worth living,<br />The end of September,<br />A lady leaving the forties<br />with all its apricot,<br />The hour of sunlight in prison,<br />Clouds imitating a flock of creatures,<br />A people’s cheers for those going up<br />to their doom, smiling<br />and the tyrants fear of songs.<br />There’s on this land what is worth living,<br />There’s on this land,<br />the lady of lands,<br />the mother of the beginnings<br />and of the ends.<br />It was called Palestine<br />Its name later became Palestine<br />My lady: I deserve,<br />since you’re my lady,<br />I deserve life</span> </span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;"></span><br /></span><span style="font-family:Verdana;"><strong>Mahmoud Darwish</strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;"></span><br /></span><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:78%;">translation: Dreamer</span> </div><div class="blogger-post-footer">In poetry or in prose and no matter what the language or the medium is, human emotions and passions and feelings of love and brotherhood speak for themselves trenscending all frontiers
I APPRECIATE GETTING FEEDBACK FROM EVERYBODY.THANKS</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892362.post-67761405645447459032009-08-09T18:03:00.008+00:002009-08-14T13:01:02.424+00:00Tribute to Mahmoud Darwish<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp611RAFRwPjBWGwNFTfT9wTAeCO1nXcAyy4E-PCZ5JSW9m5L4_6jtK7hlpHo5GHd2nPCthqTC98t4JmllLXmFNIaM9BHZwSZZ3sF7D7OWyANgCc-GOtucksqMtWaBJgMjKFY9/s1600-h/Epitaph.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368031945534883122" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 368px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 364px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp611RAFRwPjBWGwNFTfT9wTAeCO1nXcAyy4E-PCZ5JSW9m5L4_6jtK7hlpHo5GHd2nPCthqTC98t4JmllLXmFNIaM9BHZwSZZ3sF7D7OWyANgCc-GOtucksqMtWaBJgMjKFY9/s400/Epitaph.jpg" border="0" /></a> <p></p><span style="font-size:85%;">" <strong><span style="font-family:arial;">There’s on this land, the lady of lands, what is worth life"</span></strong></span></div><p><span style="font-size:85%;"></span> </p><p><span style="font-size:78%;"></span> </p><div align="left"><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;"><strong>I'm from There</strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">I’m from there. </span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">And have memories. </span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">I was born like everybody else. </span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">I have a mother And a house with plenty of windows . </span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">I have brothers. </span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">Friends and a jail with a cold window </span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">I have a wave that was stolen by seagulls. </span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">I have my own view. </span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">I have an extra plant </span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">And I have a moon at the extremes of speech, </span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">and the birds food </span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:verdana;">And an eternal olive tree </span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">I walked the land </span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">before the swords had passed </span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">over a body they turned into a table. </span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">I’m from there. </span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">Taking the sky back to her mother </span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">when the sky cries over her mother </span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">And I cry so that the returning cloud </span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">could recognize me </span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">I learnt all speech worthy of the blood court </span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">to break the rule </span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">I learnt all the language </span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">and dismantled It </span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">to make a single word </span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">That is homeland… </span><br /><br /></div><div align="left"><br /></div><p align="left"><span style="font-family:Verdana;"></span></p><div align="left"><br /></div><p align="left"><span style="font-family:Verdana;"></span></p><div align="left"><br /></div><p align="center"><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#ff0000;">Mahmoud Darwish</span></p><div align="left"><br /></div><p align="center"><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#ff0000;">13 March 1941 – 9 August 2008</span></p><div align="left"><br /></div><p align="center"><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:78%;color:#cc6600;">My own translation</span></p><div class="blogger-post-footer">In poetry or in prose and no matter what the language or the medium is, human emotions and passions and feelings of love and brotherhood speak for themselves trenscending all frontiers
I APPRECIATE GETTING FEEDBACK FROM EVERYBODY.THANKS</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892362.post-82065373832947543032009-08-09T17:03:00.005+00:002009-08-09T17:14:53.992+00:00Tribute to Mahmoud Darwish<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaGjfQba9qubnDsStcKTZpUTBLVR5kX1EIiy-GAsVwUlRoDNQ72D1Z-9lmijJrDPlUqetF46FhJVaSzBjkeFfRgtAlDdyUleUBlFqhkH1JzVmEjctQY-ywneHfjWauqhwMpx5p/s1600-h/Mahmoud+Darwish.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368013588784951554" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 378px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 491px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaGjfQba9qubnDsStcKTZpUTBLVR5kX1EIiy-GAsVwUlRoDNQ72D1Z-9lmijJrDPlUqetF46FhJVaSzBjkeFfRgtAlDdyUleUBlFqhkH1JzVmEjctQY-ywneHfjWauqhwMpx5p/s400/Mahmoud+Darwish.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></strong></span></div><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></strong></span></div><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">Once again</span></strong></span></div><span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><div align="left"></div><br /><div align="left"><br />the killers sleep<br />under my skin<br />and the Gallows become<br />a flag<br />or<br />a spike<br />in the sky of the burning forest<br />the shadow removed her hands from my forehead<br />then we hid at midday<br />once again<br />the soldier passes by<br />under my skin<br />once again<br />he covers my lip<br />in the wrinkles of the national hymn !<br />the shadow removed her hands from my forehead<br />then we hid at midday<br />once again<br />The martyrs are fleeing<br />the poets songs<br />once again<br />we got off our crucifix<br />then we found no land<br />and saw no sky<br />the shadow removed her hands from my forehead<br />and we hid at midday<br />once again<br />we united<br />myself , the murderer and the hostile death<br />my freedom became a burden<br />over my heart<br />and her eyes became exiles and countries<br />once again<br />the water is lost in the clouds<br />and we are called for war<br />the shadow removed her hands from my forehead<br />then we hid at midday<br />They killed her at midday<br />instead of me<br />and they didn’t arrest me<br />once again<br />for the killers are under my skin </div><br /><div align="left"></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#ff0000;">Mahmoud Darwish<br />13 March 1941 – 9 August 2008<br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:78%;">My own translation</span></span></div><br /><div align="center"></div></span><div class="blogger-post-footer">In poetry or in prose and no matter what the language or the medium is, human emotions and passions and feelings of love and brotherhood speak for themselves trenscending all frontiers
I APPRECIATE GETTING FEEDBACK FROM EVERYBODY.THANKS</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892362.post-18089765286697989472009-08-09T14:56:00.011+00:002009-08-09T17:16:50.812+00:00Tribute to Mahmoud Darwish<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqyO3xYPeFTUonw4UlmNozWKlW3E9yNe3_aK96I9NfQ0VSbg3OMABBGuS6fK95KQ0J1pKfumN_BpF9_bREAcbQLi6b5T8wuPLf71ygRnDdLBXYv5ZTOFk4Q2xQoVqq4QE8aeYJ/s1600-h/0acomdarwishstreetsiq1.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367980886464932386" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 384px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 386px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqyO3xYPeFTUonw4UlmNozWKlW3E9yNe3_aK96I9NfQ0VSbg3OMABBGuS6fK95KQ0J1pKfumN_BpF9_bREAcbQLi6b5T8wuPLf71ygRnDdLBXYv5ZTOFk4Q2xQoVqq4QE8aeYJ/s400/0acomdarwishstreetsiq1.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;"><strong></strong></span></div><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><br /><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;"><strong></strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;"><strong>The One-O’clock Train</strong></span></div><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><strong></strong></span></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family:Verdana;"></span></strong></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:verdana;">A man and a woman separating,<br />dusting roses off their hearts,<br />breaking .<br /><br />The shadow getting out of the shadow<br />They ‘re becoming three:<br />A man,<br />a woman<br />and time…<br /><br />The train does not come<br />So, they get back into the café<br />saying something else,<br />getting into harmony<br />And loving the rising of dawn<br />out of the cords of a guitar<br />and not separating…<br /><br />..Then I turned back roaming the sight</span></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-family:verdana;">in the yards of this heart.<br />A lane and friends<br />getting into the cave<br />and into oblivion,<br />called upon me in Madrid.<br /><br />I don’t forget but the woman’s face<br />or my delight…<br />I’d forget you and forget you<br />and forget you a lot<br />I f we had been a bit late<br />for the one-o’clock train.<br /><br />I f we had sat down for an hour<br />in the Chinese restaurant ,<br />I f returning birds had passed by.<br />if we had read the night papers.<br /><br />But we were<br />A man and a woman meeting...</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Verdana;"></span></div><span style="font-family:arial;color:#ff0000;">Mahmoud Darwish</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;color:#ff0000;">13 March 1941 – 9 August 2008<br /></span></div><p align="center"><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:78%;color:#cc0000;"><em>My own translation</em></span></p><br /><br /><p align="right"><em><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></em><span style="font-family:verdana;"></p></span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"><div align="center"><br /></span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">In poetry or in prose and no matter what the language or the medium is, human emotions and passions and feelings of love and brotherhood speak for themselves trenscending all frontiers
I APPRECIATE GETTING FEEDBACK FROM EVERYBODY.THANKS</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892362.post-10841555090503299882009-05-24T21:16:00.007+00:002009-05-24T22:11:59.619+00:00A Big Smile from You<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvHYjUSewCYAUUNSTqZQz2jjwKTTxdORNiB-wcJIaviKToPVq2goEzg-q5XPqODsypj-Ck-RJkwEoT0bOxWoqEi7lZgOUZMmjy0ULfEXMLoQrLYZx7IIWAWz_QcxtBrwTVWp20/s1600-h/horse.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5339515785644443506" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 273px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvHYjUSewCYAUUNSTqZQz2jjwKTTxdORNiB-wcJIaviKToPVq2goEzg-q5XPqODsypj-Ck-RJkwEoT0bOxWoqEi7lZgOUZMmjy0ULfEXMLoQrLYZx7IIWAWz_QcxtBrwTVWp20/s400/horse.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlBQrW4eVqi9BJrzvrKFK9fcNbNinjwTy-k0iaE6B-ia2k5fQpBlVM1x60vWAnOlALWjBGd2Xh-jF_ofEyjPPqOVM426GkWlsz0EGBjWnX8STAQd5dpKdRjPDFTjx_i7TfxfcX/s1600-h/field.jpg"></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">A big smile from you<br />and I’m the one who will stay up tonight</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">so, remember me </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">when the rain pours down,</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">before the white snow dresses up</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">The color of the garden grass</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">with another costume</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">then listen to me, </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">before the face of the sun<br />gets dry and the wave water </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">gets wet out of boredom<br />before the palm trees stand in a line</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">behind the sea mussels<br />Another look from me </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">and the moon is your side<br />so, compose your verses</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">on the page of my chest</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">then watch me from the summit of another hill<br />and Sprinkle the dust of my Warm ashes </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">In front of your eternal wind </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">as I’m right here right now </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">at the disposal of your inspiration<br />so, make me sing you another song</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">a kiss from me and joy from you<br />but I don’t know if it will last </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">for how many other hours<br />Hug me to the warmth of your breast<br />and take me as I’m yours</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">for so many other times<br />Since the creation of poetry and prose<br />express me among words the way you wish<br />a caller may all of a sudden summon me<br />At this moment or at any other time<br />and you may not find me </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">in the heart, where I used to be<br />before I decide to leave for another trip</span></div><br /><div align="center"></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">In poetry or in prose and no matter what the language or the medium is, human emotions and passions and feelings of love and brotherhood speak for themselves trenscending all frontiers
I APPRECIATE GETTING FEEDBACK FROM EVERYBODY.THANKS</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892362.post-19591187832940290302009-02-04T20:01:00.010+00:002009-02-04T20:57:18.348+00:00Don't Leave Me !لا تتركيني<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU4sjr7USmF2XmVIbn9_OzUNSR1KU_dSE1riR1SQsAddIvjMkN-Hrafq_xyqoKTd-fxzTcqbiqDDXlFdmz_CrxXH87VxYCv3brUAQJ6rcs8xt_nVOkxuaj1ubeUBHZ8fUVfkk0/s1600-h/rocks.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299048835293817362" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU4sjr7USmF2XmVIbn9_OzUNSR1KU_dSE1riR1SQsAddIvjMkN-Hrafq_xyqoKTd-fxzTcqbiqDDXlFdmz_CrxXH87VxYCv3brUAQJ6rcs8xt_nVOkxuaj1ubeUBHZ8fUVfkk0/s400/rocks.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:arial;"><strong></strong></span></span></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:arial;"><strong>وطني جبينك، فاسمعيني</strong><br />My country is your forehead, so listen to me<br /><strong>لا تتركيني</strong><br />Don’t leave me<br /><strong>خلف السياج</strong><br />Behind the fence<br /><strong>كعشبة برية</strong><br />Like a wild plant,<br /><strong>كيمامة مهجورة</strong><br />Like an abandoned dove<br /><strong>لا تتركيني</strong><br />Don’t leave me<br /><strong>قمرا تعيسا</strong><br />a miserable moon<br /><strong>كوكبا متسولا بين الغصون</strong><br />a begging planet among the branches<br /><strong>لا تتركيني</strong><br />Don’t leave me<br /><strong>حرا بحزني</strong><br />free with my sadness<br /><strong>و احبسيني</strong><br />and imprison me<br /><strong>بيد تصبّ الشمس</strong><br />with a hand pouring the sun<br /><strong>فوق كوى سجوني</strong><br />On the louvers of my prisons,<br /><strong>وتعوّدي أن تحرقيني</strong><br />and get used to burning me,<br /><strong>إن كنت لي</strong><br />If you are mine<br /><strong>شغفا بأحجاري بزيتوني</strong><br />Out of love for my stones for my olive<br /><strong>بشبّاكي.. بطيني</strong><br />for my window.. for my clay<br /><strong>وطني جبينك، فاسمعيني</strong><br />My country is your forehead, so listen to me<br /><strong>لا تتركيني</strong><br /></span>Don’t leave me!</span></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Arial;"><span style="color:#ff6600;"><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">محمود درويش</span> Mahmoud Darwish</strong></span></span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">In poetry or in prose and no matter what the language or the medium is, human emotions and passions and feelings of love and brotherhood speak for themselves trenscending all frontiers
I APPRECIATE GETTING FEEDBACK FROM EVERYBODY.THANKS</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892362.post-20201354973033772392009-02-03T21:54:00.005+00:002009-02-03T22:12:21.572+00:00كمقهى صغير هو الحب * محمود درويش*<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc7N3CkVwYYxpIMZlRJNl8DCjaQ339eppt7G8VLNWqWPL1jXbHFklCjek9Q6LtYKu2jrEnutVEvWAfEl4gXK9XxybnGTMYA0KyYrXuB4KqeLF7tYGqcI1NK5TmW8VBIawcIod4/s1600-h/blue+sky.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5298697147617434274" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc7N3CkVwYYxpIMZlRJNl8DCjaQ339eppt7G8VLNWqWPL1jXbHFklCjek9Q6LtYKu2jrEnutVEvWAfEl4gXK9XxybnGTMYA0KyYrXuB4KqeLF7tYGqcI1NK5TmW8VBIawcIod4/s400/blue+sky.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong><br />كمقهى صغير على شارع الغرباء<br />هو الحب يفتح أبوابه للجميع<br />كمقهى يزيد وينقص وفق المناخ<br />إذا هطل المطر ازداد رواده<br />وإذا اعتدل الجو قلوا وملوا<br />أنا هاهنا يا غريبة في الركن أجلس<br />ما لون عينيك؟ ما اسمك؟ كيف<br />أناديك حين تمرين بي، وأنا جالس<br />في انتظارك<br />مقهى صغير هو الحب. أطلب كأسي<br />نبيذ وأشرب نخبي ونخبك. أحمل<br />قبعتين وشمسية. إنها تمطر الآن<br />تمطر أكثر من أي يوم، ولا تدخلين<br />أقول لنفسي أخيراً: لعل التي كنت<br />أنتظر انتظرتني...أو انتظرت رجلاً<br />آخر. انتظرتنا ولم تتعرف عليه/ علي<br />وكانت تقول: أنا هاهنا في انتظارك<br />ما لون عينيك؟ أي نبيذ تحب<br />وما اسمك؟ كيف أناديك حين<br />تمر أمامي</strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong>كمقهى صغير هو الحب</strong></span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">In poetry or in prose and no matter what the language or the medium is, human emotions and passions and feelings of love and brotherhood speak for themselves trenscending all frontiers
I APPRECIATE GETTING FEEDBACK FROM EVERYBODY.THANKS</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892362.post-42801058377895699552009-02-03T12:57:00.004+00:002009-02-03T21:28:23.787+00:00Like a small cafe - Mahmoud Darwish<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLzGa4mRbMdfmQYFT9iDuAfXHYGAWyg0SYFS0eTx-BraBi65_W0yPSKjrQ6b_PV5DDi2995H25i28Zi-8rW9MNJcX_XeW3PIINx81MDeV_M2CRWpjWogCyAvDCwiAY4uTnLcbH/s1600-h/Essaouira.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5298685731326403138" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLzGa4mRbMdfmQYFT9iDuAfXHYGAWyg0SYFS0eTx-BraBi65_W0yPSKjrQ6b_PV5DDi2995H25i28Zi-8rW9MNJcX_XeW3PIINx81MDeV_M2CRWpjWogCyAvDCwiAY4uTnLcbH/s400/Essaouira.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><p align="center"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><br />Like a small cafe that is love<br /><br />Like a small café on Strangers Avenue<br />It is love… open for all.<br />Like a cafe that is full or empty<br />According to the climate:<br />When it rains customers increase,<br />and when the weather is moderate,<br />They decrease and get bored…<br />I’m right here sitting in the corner,<br />strange woman,<br />What color are your eyes?<br />What’s your name?<br />What shall I call you,<br />when you pass by me,<br />while I’m sitting, waiting for you?<br />A small café is love. I order two glasses<br />of wine and drink my toast and yours.<br />I carry two hats and an umbrella.<br />It’s raining now.<br />Raining more than any day,<br />and you don’t come in<br />I say to myself in the End:<br />the woman I was waiting for,<br />must have waited for me…<br />or for another man. She waited for us<br />but couldn’t recognize him/me,<br />and she was saying:<br />I’m right here waiting for you.<br />What color are your eyes?<br />What wine do you love?<br />And what’s your name?<br />what shall I call you<br />when you pass in front of me<br />Like a small cafe that is love</span></p><div class="blogger-post-footer">In poetry or in prose and no matter what the language or the medium is, human emotions and passions and feelings of love and brotherhood speak for themselves trenscending all frontiers
I APPRECIATE GETTING FEEDBACK FROM EVERYBODY.THANKS</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892362.post-940659250339812412009-01-24T17:10:00.008+00:002009-01-24T21:41:23.844+00:00رحـــلة أخــرى* Another Trip*<p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy3ZFXhYhpZUr5iSHA1ZOYxGt_ve2dvGE1Cy-9_8PRJ0ZaHlDw9ozhUf55IMzl0T1oz4ZcmMxk46WP_b-RIiz1QRNbcxX5cCMXAYw8lEZTcVsnWMZPGMcoCTYKIOIb7RKh2UB5/s1600-h/the+boat.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5294911750273023266" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 414px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 292px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy3ZFXhYhpZUr5iSHA1ZOYxGt_ve2dvGE1Cy-9_8PRJ0ZaHlDw9ozhUf55IMzl0T1oz4ZcmMxk46WP_b-RIiz1QRNbcxX5cCMXAYw8lEZTcVsnWMZPGMcoCTYKIOIb7RKh2UB5/s400/the+boat.jpg" border="0" /></a></p><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"><strong>منك بسمة كبرى ومني السهر<br />فاذكريني حين يسقط المطر<br />قبل أن يكسو بياض الثلج<br />لون عشب الحديقة بحلة أخرى<br />* * *<br />واصغي إلي قبل أن يجف وجه الشمس<br />ويبتل ماء الموج من الضجر<br />ويصطف النخيل خلف بلح البحر<br />مني نظرة أخرى ومنك القمر<br />* * *<br />فانضمي أبياتك على صفحة صدري<br />وارقبيني من فوق تلة أخرى<br />وانثري غبار رمادي الدافئ<br />أمام ريح عاصفتك السرمدي<br />* * *<br />فأنا هنا الآن رهن إلهامك<br />فاجعليني أغنيك قصيدة أخرى<br />مني قبلة ومنك السمر لكن<br />لست أدري لكم ساعة أخرى<br />* * *<br />ضميني إلى دفىء صدرك<br />وخذيني فأنا لك كم مرة أخرى<br />منذ أن خلق الشعر والزجل<br />فصيغيني بين الكلمات كيفما ما شئت<br />* * *<br />قد ينادي علي مناد على حين غرة<br />في هذه اللحظة كما في لحظة أخرى<br />فلا تجدينني في القلب حيث كنت</strong></span><br /></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:arial;"><strong></strong></span><span style="font-family:arial;"><strong>قبل أن أهم بالسفر في رحلة أخرى</strong></span></span></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;">-----------------------------------------</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#000099;"></span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#000099;">Un Autre Voyage</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#000099;"></span></strong></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center">Un grand sourire de ta part et c’est à moi de veiller la nuit<br />Rappelles-toi de moi à la tombée de la pluie<br />Avant que la blancheur de la neige ne couvre<br />La couleur du gazon du jardin d’une autre robe<br />* * *<br />Puis écoutes –moi avant que la face du soleil ne sèche<br />Et avant que l’eau des vagues ne se mouille par ennui<br />Avant que ne se mettent en rang les palmiers derrière les moules<br />Un autre regard de ma part et la lune de la tienne<br />* * *<br />Composes tes vers sur la page de ma poitrine<br />Et surveilles-moi du haut d’une autre colline<br />Et disperse la poussière de mes cendres chaudes<br />Devant le vent de ta tempête éternelle<br />* * *<br />Puisque je suis à présent ici suivant ton inspiration<br />Alors fais-moi chanter un autre poème pour toi<br />Un baiser de ma part et de ta part la joie mais<br />Je ne sais pour combien de temps<br />* * *<br />Serres-moi contre la chaleur de ta poitrine<br />Et prends-moi car je suis à toi plusieurs fois<br />Depuis la création de la poésie<br />Alors façonnes-moi dans tes mots comme tu souhaites<br />* * *<br />On pourrait m’appeler sans préavis<br />Maintenant et à tout autre moment<br />Et tu ne me trouveras pas là où j’étais dans le cœur<br />Avant de m’apprêter à partir pour un autre voyage<br />* * *</div><div align="center"></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">In poetry or in prose and no matter what the language or the medium is, human emotions and passions and feelings of love and brotherhood speak for themselves trenscending all frontiers
I APPRECIATE GETTING FEEDBACK FROM EVERYBODY.THANKS</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892362.post-92206144025789342172009-01-23T15:15:00.010+00:002009-01-24T13:11:14.384+00:00محمود درويش * Passers by in Passing Words*<p align="center"><object height="344" width="425"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/pbHbX1UdQI8&hl=en&fs=1&rel=0&color1=0x234900&color2=0x4e9e00"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/pbHbX1UdQI8&hl=en&fs=1&rel=0&color1=0x234900&color2=0x4e9e00" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" dir="rtl" style="MARGIN-BOTTOM: 5px; DIRECTION: rtl; unicode-bidi: embed; TEXT-ALIGN: center" align="center"><span style="color:#ff6600;"><strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#009900;">محمود درويش</span></strong><br /></span><b><span style="font-size:130%;color:#000099;">عابرون في كلام عابر</span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" dir="rtl" style="MARGIN-BOTTOM: 5px; DIRECTION: rtl; unicode-bidi: embed; TEXT-ALIGN: center" align="center"><b><span style="font-size:130%;">أيها المارون بين الكلمات العابرة<br />احملوا أسماءكم وانصرفوا<br />واسحبوا ساعاتكم من وقتنا وانصرفوا<br />واسرقوا ما شئتم من صور<br />كي تعرفوا أنكم لن تعرفوا<br />كيف يبني حجر من أرضنا<br />سقف السماء<br />* * *<br />أيها المارون بين الكلمات العابرة<br />منكم السيف ومنا دمنا<br />منكم الفولاذ والنار ومنا لحمنا<br />منكم دبابة أخرى ومنا حجر<br />منكم قنبلة الغاز ومنا المطر<br />وعلينا ما عليكم من سماء وهواء<br />فخذوا حصتكم من دمنا وانصرفوا<br />وادخلوا حفل عشاء راقص وانصرفوا<br />وعلينا نحن أن نحرس ورد الشهداء<br />وعلينا نحن أن نحيى كما نحن نشاء<br />* * *<br />أيها المارون بين الكلمات العابرة<br />كدسوا أوهامكم في حفرة مهجورة وانصرفوا<br />وأعيدوا عقرب الوقت إلى شرعية العجل المقدس<br />أو إلى توقيت موسيقى المسدس<br />فلنا ما ليس يرضيكم هنا فانصرفوا<br />ولنا ما ليس فيكم وطن ينزف شعباً<br />ينزف وطناً يصلح للنسيان أو للذاكرة<br />* * *<br />أيها المارون بين الكلمات العابرة<br />آن أن تنصرفوا وتقيموا أينما شئتم ولكن لا تقيموا بيننا<br />آن أن تنصرفوا وتموتوا أينما شئتم ولكن لا تموتوا بيننا<br />فلنا في أرضنا ما نعمل<br />ولنا الماضي هنا ولنا صوت الحياة الأول<br />ولنا الحاضر والحاضر والمستقبل<br />ولنا الدنيا هنا والآخرة فاخرجوا من أرضنا<br />من برنا من بحرنا من قمحنا من ملحنا من جرحنا<br />من كل شيء، واخرجوا من مفردات الذاكرة<br />أيها المارون بين الكلمات العابرة <span lang="AR-MA" style="font-family:Arial;color:black;"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;"></span></b></p><div class="blogger-post-footer">In poetry or in prose and no matter what the language or the medium is, human emotions and passions and feelings of love and brotherhood speak for themselves trenscending all frontiers
I APPRECIATE GETTING FEEDBACK FROM EVERYBODY.THANKS</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892362.post-44490922489039346412009-01-22T14:37:00.007+00:002009-01-23T19:16:40.168+00:00I'm not mine أنا لست لي<p align="center"><object height="444" width="544"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/ffK2TJ9uQys&hl=en&fs=1&rel=0&color1=0xe1600f&color2=0xfebd01"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/ffK2TJ9uQys&hl=en&fs=1&rel=0&color1=0xe1600f&color2=0xfebd01" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br /></p><p align="center"><b><span style="font-family:Verdana;color:#ff6600;">Mahmoud Darwish (1941-2008)</span></b></p><p align="center"><strong><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:180%;">أنا لست لي</span></strong></p><p align="center"><strong><br /><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">هذا البحر لي<br />هذا الهواء الرطب لي<br />واسمي<br />وإن أخطأت لفظ اسمي على التابوت ، لي<br />أما أنا<br />وقد امتلأت بكل أسباب الرحيل<br />فلست لي<br />أنا لست لي<br />أنا لست لي</span></strong><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:180%;"><br /></span><br />--------------------------------------------------<br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"><strong>Je Ne Suis Pas à Moi</strong><br /><br />Cette mer est à moi<br />Cet air humide est à moi<br />Et mon nom-<br />Même si je l’écrit mal sur le cercueil- est à moi<br />Quant à moi,<br />Qui suis rempli de toutes les raisons du départ,<br />Je ne suis pas à moi<br />Je ne suis pas à moi<br />Je ne suis pas à moi ...<br />-------------------------------------------------<br /><br /><strong>Ana lastou lee<br /></strong><br />Hada lbahrou lee<br />Hada lhaouaou ‘rratbu lee<br />Oua smee-<br />Oua’in akhtaatou lafda smee âla ttabouti- lee<br />Amma ana,<br />ouaqad imtalaatou bikulli asbabi rrahili<br />falastou lee<br />Ana lastou lee<br />Ana lasto lee...<br /><br />-----------------------------------------------</span></p><p align="center"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><strong>I’m not Mine</strong></span></p><p align="center"><span style="font-family:verdana;">This sea is mine<br />This moist air is mine<br />And my name-<br />Even if I spell it wrong on the coffin-<br />Is mine<br />As for me,<br />Now that I’m filled with all the possible reasons for departure-<br />I am not mine<br />I am not mine<br />I am not mine...</span></p><p align="center"><span style="font-family:Verdana;"></span></p><p align="center"></p><div class="blogger-post-footer">In poetry or in prose and no matter what the language or the medium is, human emotions and passions and feelings of love and brotherhood speak for themselves trenscending all frontiers
I APPRECIATE GETTING FEEDBACK FROM EVERYBODY.THANKS</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892362.post-89456450700940114922009-01-11T12:24:00.005+00:002009-01-11T12:48:29.281+00:00Agression On Gaza<div align="center"><a href="http://www.aljazeera.net/"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5290012103724831714" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 412px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 234px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQj-53M8CsHco5dkhZ5d9RBjIT5PwOVzmbZqmi4h1VdH0GlGpliyYMo3MEKpnff7zNCaxrccKLTTHk5Lo9Err-U1ZqcC7_QfHILV3qYWHFD_CLhUh7yDYmryIA3Hy7BRuCooK9/s400/gaza.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">Israel is acting in Gaza in the same way as it has always acted in its criminal wars against the Palestinians, using internationally banned phosphorus bombs and enriched uranium munitions against innocent civilians. Killing more women and children than resistance men and that’s neither a coincidence nor a miscalculation. It’s rather a strategy. They take advantage of the nature of the conflict to use extreme and unnecessary force meaning to spread terror and attempting to hush the voice of the legitimate resistance of the different Palestinian factions against occupation by the Zionist government of Israel.<br />This strategy has proved through history to be fruitless and the Palestinian resistance got stronger and more radical. Hamas and Aljihad, for instance, are but the inevitable result of the Israeli barbaric aggressions against the Palestinians.<br />The aggression on Gaza is another opportunity for the Palestinian resistance to improve its capacity to fight the aggressor and another proof that No peace is possible with such a mentality.</span></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"></span></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"></span></div><div align="justify"></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">In poetry or in prose and no matter what the language or the medium is, human emotions and passions and feelings of love and brotherhood speak for themselves trenscending all frontiers
I APPRECIATE GETTING FEEDBACK FROM EVERYBODY.THANKS</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892362.post-57204861350539269792009-01-04T14:27:00.003+00:002009-01-04T14:36:01.205+00:00NOT NEGOTIABLE !<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipJ3v6jKscsmM5Jb9a9Qvmy2ObzWIdezcgaJy-lz28LkovmWMYpa2vR4WYyTM4wKYyYSGIBRWOsP57fAa-6e2QOqKgOR_8UETl8r9I-IwMLsfQTHHuUkqAHRBxA19ANAeSY5oI/s1600-h/Infos_Gaza_-_345_-.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5287445801549755074" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 253px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipJ3v6jKscsmM5Jb9a9Qvmy2ObzWIdezcgaJy-lz28LkovmWMYpa2vR4WYyTM4wKYyYSGIBRWOsP57fAa-6e2QOqKgOR_8UETl8r9I-IwMLsfQTHHuUkqAHRBxA19ANAeSY5oI/s400/Infos_Gaza_-_345_-.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br />US representative in Security Council Says:<br />“Israel self defense is not negotiable!”<br /><br />I say:<br /><br />The right of the Palestinian people to live in peace and security on their own land is not negotiable<br /><br />The right for the Palestinian children to grow up in a terror-free environment is not negotiable<br /><br />The right of the Palestinian resistance to attack the occupying forces of Israel by all means is not negotiable<br /><br />The duty of the Arabs all over the world to support the Palestinian resistance and help it chase the invaders out of the Arab land of Palestine is not negotiable<br /><br />The duty of the world community to protect the Palestinian civilians from the Israeli blood-thirsty war machine is not negotiable<div class="blogger-post-footer">In poetry or in prose and no matter what the language or the medium is, human emotions and passions and feelings of love and brotherhood speak for themselves trenscending all frontiers
I APPRECIATE GETTING FEEDBACK FROM EVERYBODY.THANKS</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892362.post-56876729360088472442008-12-19T23:45:00.003+00:002008-12-19T23:54:41.574+00:00George Bush's Farewell Party<object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/Bq7uDO7bCXM&hl=fr&fs=1&rel=0&color1=0x3a3a3a&color2=0x999999"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/Bq7uDO7bCXM&hl=fr&fs=1&rel=0&color1=0x3a3a3a&color2=0x999999" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><div class="blogger-post-footer">In poetry or in prose and no matter what the language or the medium is, human emotions and passions and feelings of love and brotherhood speak for themselves trenscending all frontiers
I APPRECIATE GETTING FEEDBACK FROM EVERYBODY.THANKS</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892362.post-75005133224346458542008-07-22T22:24:00.001+00:002008-07-22T22:44:23.332+00:00La Biche<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifrUBkmQysKMQyWzx2_W-n-M3_Z_X3yKRpT_4766-HkBIRBZCT0sWyTICCR3EHesrIN9FZqxuK2g9E3iYd89eX0I04G7UdFBwEDp_AwBkoUVU91J-MJd_9uEY5ENz-HQakyRzv/s1600-h/biche.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5225971634234787570" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 411px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 581px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="399" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifrUBkmQysKMQyWzx2_W-n-M3_Z_X3yKRpT_4766-HkBIRBZCT0sWyTICCR3EHesrIN9FZqxuK2g9E3iYd89eX0I04G7UdFBwEDp_AwBkoUVU91J-MJd_9uEY5ENz-HQakyRzv/s400/biche.jpg" width="349" border="0" /></a><br /><div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">In poetry or in prose and no matter what the language or the medium is, human emotions and passions and feelings of love and brotherhood speak for themselves trenscending all frontiers
I APPRECIATE GETTING FEEDBACK FROM EVERYBODY.THANKS</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892362.post-30406709403883492212008-07-15T01:42:00.003+00:002008-07-15T01:44:42.627+00:00L'Eclipse<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtR7MNH1SGalg7y4wGXb5FWcFF0vCCe7oqgXXimgVNDr7Ys_xeXD0MVm9WI9Z2CSGoa8Agx5XKgBBkghqwiZvIkBQNFRrrTjFokKHnuqk3croxMBNI3MTugX1miGysPBjDpwPZ/s1600-h/eclipse[1].jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5223050465082747170" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 382px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 478px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="400" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtR7MNH1SGalg7y4wGXb5FWcFF0vCCe7oqgXXimgVNDr7Ys_xeXD0MVm9WI9Z2CSGoa8Agx5XKgBBkghqwiZvIkBQNFRrrTjFokKHnuqk3croxMBNI3MTugX1miGysPBjDpwPZ/s400/eclipse%5B1%5D.jpg" width="337" border="0" /></a><br /><div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">In poetry or in prose and no matter what the language or the medium is, human emotions and passions and feelings of love and brotherhood speak for themselves trenscending all frontiers
I APPRECIATE GETTING FEEDBACK FROM EVERYBODY.THANKS</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892362.post-35665324287808149942008-05-17T22:10:00.003+00:002008-05-17T22:54:04.379+00:00Pour une Vraie Réforme de l’Enseignement<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqSSB_89-HqhtY9885GClwu_aWqs7nIWwi3_K7BR4QBrrUFxZHqAcjbo_R1VXxQA-bGBbpQP3TnZ6E7Nbx7uocL2KtS3tEXfif9JcbAq-w_htc6Duo4iSTH6ypkSP0F8YmivGU/s1600-h/schoolyard.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5201483081394809394" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqSSB_89-HqhtY9885GClwu_aWqs7nIWwi3_K7BR4QBrrUFxZHqAcjbo_R1VXxQA-bGBbpQP3TnZ6E7Nbx7uocL2KtS3tEXfif9JcbAq-w_htc6Duo4iSTH6ypkSP0F8YmivGU/s400/schoolyard.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"></span></div><br /><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">Notre enseignement souffre, il n’y a plus de doute et on arrive finalement à le reconnaître. C’est déjà un pas en avant puisque la souffrance ne date pas d’aujourd’hui mais existait déjà il y a plusieurs années et tout le monde en parlait saufs les responsables. Fallait-il attendre que des instances internationales nous le confirment ?<br />Appelons les choses par leurs noms et reconnaissons que la crise est globale et ne se manifeste pas uniquement dans le secteur de l’enseignement. C’est tout le secteur public qui est en crise. Les pouvoirs publics se sont affaibli et n’arrivent plus à faire appliquer les lois qui veillent à ce que chacun assume ses responsabilités.<br />Un beau matin on découvre que les enseignants ne faisaient pas leurs devoirs et s’absentaient trop tout en oubliant qu’on avait établi une charte très ambitieuse qui est la charte de l’éducation et de la formation pour laquelle on a fait une grande propagande avant de l’oublier carrément. Je crois que le gouvernement s’est penché pendant un certain temps sur la lutte contre le terrorisme puis sur les élections législatives ou sur le football national ou autres évènements alors que l’enseignement a été délaissé comme tant d’autres services publics.<br />Depuis longtemps nos écoles, collèges et lycées présentaient des pratiques qui mènent directement vers la crise. On a tous été au courant des instituteurs qui répondaient à la place des enfants à l’examen de rentrée en sixième pour que le pourcentage de la réussite soient à la hauteur des attentes des responsables hiérarchiques.<br />On a tous vu des enfants passer du collège au lycée avec 9/10 et 8/10 de moyenne générale. On sait aussi que beaucoup de parents vont supplier les profs de leurs enfants pour qu’ils leur donnent des bonnes notes dans telle ou telle matière afin qu’il puissent confronter l’examen du baccalauréat qui compte 50% à coté de l’examen régional et de contrôle continu. On sait aussi que la corruption, le clientélisme et le népotisme ont malheureusement atteint le secteur de l’enseignement et on sait que l’obtention du bac devient possible à l’aide de la fraude, et à la générosité de certains profs.<br />Si l’enseignement souffre c’est par absence de conscience professionnelle chez certains et à cause de l’absence de cet état de droit dont on a toujours rêvé et qui devient de plus en plus loin à atteindre.<br />C’est la culture du devoir et du droit qui fait défaut dans nos établissements scolaires comme partout dans les différentes institutions publiques.<br />Si la réforme aujourd’hui est une nécessité, les chances de réussite dépendent de la volonté politique des hauts responsables qui nous ont, hélas, habitués à parler d’une chose tout en travaillant pour son opposé.<br /></div></span><div class="blogger-post-footer">In poetry or in prose and no matter what the language or the medium is, human emotions and passions and feelings of love and brotherhood speak for themselves trenscending all frontiers
I APPRECIATE GETTING FEEDBACK FROM EVERYBODY.THANKS</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892362.post-9706023347130573922008-02-21T03:12:00.020+00:002009-01-27T11:41:26.096+00:00قصيدة مديح الظل العالي - الجزء االثاني - محمود درويش<object width="380" height="281"><param name="movie" value="http://www.dailymotion.com/swf/k7gHt2o1D1BAlMiCua&related=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowScriptAccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.dailymotion.com/swf/k7gHt2o1D1BAlMiCua&related=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="480" height="381" allowFullScreen="true" allowScriptAccess="always"></embed></object><div class="blogger-post-footer">In poetry or in prose and no matter what the language or the medium is, human emotions and passions and feelings of love and brotherhood speak for themselves trenscending all frontiers
I APPRECIATE GETTING FEEDBACK FROM EVERYBODY.THANKS</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892362.post-7350981797605644862007-12-30T13:18:00.000+00:002007-12-31T19:32:09.343+00:00Bienvenue 2008<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5149762817187648354" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; width: 415px; cursor: pointer; height: 316px; text-align: center;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-KVhMbsuVLj1znOXvT3bKdIWaZ_boVO-TIMmsk6RRNcoUGRwVn93abVuzPrADtoSaIoG3DjR0Rj07zlJkXBgWXqUuOSE15RBk852qs0X5jkXMy11jvSAUBJIst2v65UFjgX58/s400/bonne+.jpg" border="0" /><div class="blogger-post-footer">In poetry or in prose and no matter what the language or the medium is, human emotions and passions and feelings of love and brotherhood speak for themselves trenscending all frontiers
I APPRECIATE GETTING FEEDBACK FROM EVERYBODY.THANKS</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892362.post-3234109305381863872007-12-16T00:49:00.000+00:002007-12-31T18:42:32.964+00:00التشويه يطال تراث الصويرة العالمي<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV3xGhx2Se0dqgJIHQhpdiupxqB-PBY7-8tJJw8njyULOO0MpYxP8Z9vbPhtzTUcuWgDSblf9M10py3aDzpTtcF3WeWF9TWgx7bMmoHpY7hkDNncmSTd74TXvB0BkbxU2cJmT7/s1600-h/patrimoine.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5144369712653407010" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; width: 395px; height: 269px; text-align: center;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV3xGhx2Se0dqgJIHQhpdiupxqB-PBY7-8tJJw8njyULOO0MpYxP8Z9vbPhtzTUcuWgDSblf9M10py3aDzpTtcF3WeWF9TWgx7bMmoHpY7hkDNncmSTd74TXvB0BkbxU2cJmT7/s400/patrimoine.jpg" border="0" height="300" width="452" /></a> <div align="justify"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcr3h6pCLtcAqT8zGOormPsCMwx8BWGzrYsNxUj3SeCjE33Y75q1w7Up1xXTjQCZHztELzwnxRXmHJvYBBPgUT82el5ehGsfVMwUevPYv_KIr01Zo3BgQOVehRHPXzjq6yZePY/s1600-h/tour21.jpg"></a><span style="font-family:times new roman;"><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">تعرض حصن باب مراكش الأثري الذي يشكل أحد المعالم التراثية التاريخية المميزة لمدينة الصويرة، لعملية تشويه سافرة تدعو إلى الحسرة على ما آلت إليه الأوضاع من تسيب وتدهور واستخفاف بساكنة المدينة ومحبيها وأبنائها المنتشرين في مختلف أنحاء الدنيا، من طرف المسؤولين عن تدبير الشأن المحلي بالمدينة بالنيابة عن مجلسها البلدي الحاضر الغائب منذ الأيام الأولى لولادته. فقد تم يوم الخميس ثالث عشر ديسمبر2007 هدم جزء من جدران البرج وإحداث ثقب كبير بحجم حوالي 4أمتار على 2، قد يكون الغرض منه فتح مدخل ، الشيء الذي يعتبر تشويها غير مستساغ وتلاعباً بالتراث وتدخلاً لا لزوم له في الرمزية التاريخية لتلك المعلمة. لقد سجل ارتياح نسبي لدى الغيورين على المدينة وجماليتها ورصيدها الثقافي المتميز ولدى البررة من أبنائها لما حضيت في ديسمبر 2001 بتصنيف معالمها التاريخية ضمن التراث العالمي للبشرية من طرف منظمة الأمم المتحدة للتربية والثقافة والعلوم (اليونسكو)، اعتقاداً منهم أن ذلك كان يكفي للاطمئنان على ما تزخر به المدينة من مآثر ولضمان حمايتها من الاندثار والتشويه والتلاعب، لكن اليوم لم يعد هناك شك في كون التراث العالمي للإنسانية لم يعد هو الآخر في منأى عن أيادي الفساد والتخريب الممتدة إلى مختلف مجالات تدبير الشأن العام فقد سبق أن فقدت المدينة مند عشرات السنين معلمة من معالمها الأثرية المتمثلة في بناية مركز الإرشاد السياحي التي لم ترق لرئيس المجلس البلدي لسنة1992 فأمر بهدمها . تلا ذلك في يونيو الماضي القضاء على حديقة المنزه الشهيرة التي يبلغ عمرها قرناً من الزمن لتحول إلى فضاء أسمنتي كئيب ولتفسح المجال للمهرجانات المبتذلة التي أفرغت من كل مضمون.فهل تتحرك وزارة الثقافة الوصية على المآثر التاريخية لإنقاذ ما يمكن إنقاذه ؟ وهل تلتفت منظمة اليونسكو لتدافعّ عن التراث العالمي للبشرية؟ أم هل سيترك من عاثوا في المدينة فسادا ليستمروا في غيهم دون رقيب ولا حسيب؟</span></strong><br /><br /></span></div><div align="center"></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">In poetry or in prose and no matter what the language or the medium is, human emotions and passions and feelings of love and brotherhood speak for themselves trenscending all frontiers
I APPRECIATE GETTING FEEDBACK FROM EVERYBODY.THANKS</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892362.post-2007469427739980552007-12-15T13:44:00.000+00:002007-12-31T19:14:15.120+00:00Essaouira: Save “Bab Marrakech” Bastion !<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix3PhOE6NKxhyphenhyphentDD1pqbynzpwn6a1b81fExyynN9T-7zYLirFe9Ts2_YuKYz-whqEZf3LumUqwdijgNj5gNeDlOK4D7132PT1H8h1znKgpXVpKgePamzCPHSjCg6EeKUvSn3Hc/s1600-h/tour21.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5144196294758896386" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix3PhOE6NKxhyphenhyphentDD1pqbynzpwn6a1b81fExyynN9T-7zYLirFe9Ts2_YuKYz-whqEZf3LumUqwdijgNj5gNeDlOK4D7132PT1H8h1znKgpXVpKgePamzCPHSjCg6EeKUvSn3Hc/s400/tour21.jpg" border="0" /></a> <div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;">This is the way historic heritage is treated in Essaouira, Morocco. No matter what big value it has in the eyes of the local population and the natives of Essaouira wherever they are, as well as in the eyes of those who have worked hard for it to be selected as a universal heritage site by The United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization (UNESCO)<br />Cruel hands have managed to distort its past and as they, from time to time, do with public property taking advantage of the total absence of the local council and its president for whom historical monuments are apparently not a priority .<br />The Bab Marrakech Bastion, which is one of the most distinguished historical sites of the Medina, was partly demolished on December 13th 2007 for unknown purposes.<br />14 years ago The same thing happened when The president of the city council, then, ordered that the famous monument of the “syndicat d’initiative touristique” situated at the time on Moulay Hassan square should be completely demolished, just because he didn’t like the way it looked!<br />Last June The one-century-old Alminzah Park was as well illegally removed and transformed into an empty square to make room for festivals .<br />Before these sad events one stands in complete puzzlement unable to figure out the reason why these monuments have been targeted.<em></em></span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">In poetry or in prose and no matter what the language or the medium is, human emotions and passions and feelings of love and brotherhood speak for themselves trenscending all frontiers
I APPRECIATE GETTING FEEDBACK FROM EVERYBODY.THANKS</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892362.post-16392400867492094362007-11-20T22:11:00.000+00:002007-12-31T16:28:11.467+00:00To Be or Not to Be ?<div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://tassourt.blogspot.com/"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5135061322193859266" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: pointer; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-RgRTwzsWEqCKA1eZ1350loemsEZMMwSa2Hgi4TcqJe_LDP1STj23E6lpI9K83vsddd-zjmN4x-3HgFWb2qlRfSfP89wIszJYHG02VBJQP08tY1fQNFjMsdKYOydL3p31HjgC/s400/la+mouette.JPG" border="0" /></a><span style="COLOR: rgb(255,102,0);font-family:verdana;font-size:78%;" >image copyright: Dreamer</span><br /></div><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"><span style="COLOR: rgb(255,102,0);font-size:78%;" ><span style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"><br /></span></span></span></span></div><span style="COLOR: rgb(255,102,0);font-size:78%;" ><span style="font-family:times new roman;"><br /></span></span></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="TEXT-ALIGN: center;font-family:verdana;" align="center" ><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size:130%;">From the bottom of her heart, she said<?xml:namespace prefix = o /><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="TEXT-ALIGN: center;font-family:verdana;" align="center" ><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size:130%;">“To be is the answer” and yet the answer<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="TEXT-ALIGN: center;font-family:verdana;" align="center" ><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size:130%;">To my questions Lies within her whisper<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="TEXT-ALIGN: center;font-family:verdana;" align="center" ><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size:130%;">And behind her smile, my heart replied<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="TEXT-ALIGN: center;font-family:verdana;" align="center" ><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size:130%;">In fast beats “you’re the one I only need” <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="TEXT-ALIGN: center;font-family:verdana;" align="center" ><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size:130%;">“You’re the white angel none but I can see”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="TEXT-ALIGN: center;font-family:verdana;" align="center" ><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size:130%;">To be or not to be? You are the answer!</span></p><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;"><br /></span><p class="MsoNormal" style="TEXT-ALIGN: center" align="center"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="TEXT-ALIGN: center" align="center"><i><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p></o:p></span></i></p><div class="blogger-post-footer">In poetry or in prose and no matter what the language or the medium is, human emotions and passions and feelings of love and brotherhood speak for themselves trenscending all frontiers
I APPRECIATE GETTING FEEDBACK FROM EVERYBODY.THANKS</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18892362.post-23832180372314985812007-11-18T21:45:00.000+00:002007-12-31T16:29:52.921+00:00Dis, Mon Copain !<div align="center"><a href="http://tassourt.blogspot.com/"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5134336142735733410" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ78twApXRUj8QNHF8TR8HZxk85B_FiS0K76sm0KZnFZorM6Ko631tsKCUl56mhWUiWuesUcU8ptvq0yKptOqR66KstGbT_9frbIu5WzGmP0c2OguqUjOXs-FnCTrnmJh0q7z4/s400/palmiers.JPG" border="0" /></a><span style="COLOR: rgb(255,0,0);font-family:arial;font-size:78%;" > </span><span style="COLOR: rgb(255,0,0);font-family:arial;font-size:78%;" >Photo Copyright: Dreamer<br /></span><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVSltReOi6pQFqKZLjEg2Xj7LJzFkvibaz0b9u_yyEma6lqajclY3EgHlX4e5w8Q9dLoAz7M-nDa5NM7p5fkPQhE-DZMptxq3skpKpaqolbZPklaGVajBluWG0T_K6P9l0bjYl/s1600-h/palmiers.JPG"></a></p><p align="center"><span style="COLOR: rgb(153,102,51);font-family:verdana;" >Dis, mon copain! Quelle est la chance<br />Que peut donner la vie à quelqu’un<br />Qui as tout mis entre les mains du destin<br />Les espoirs, les rêves, les rimes et les bouquins<br /><br />Les années passent entre les rides et le coeur<br />Brisé, à travers les sècheresses et les jachères<br />Les amitiés agonisent et cèdent la place<br />Aux froid des lits et aux poignards dans le dos<br /><br />Qu’en dis-tu des amis atteints d’amnésie<br />Et des hivers qui changent de teint ?<br />Des abeilles en fugue revenues de loin<br />Jusqu'au petit arbre dans mon jardin<br /><br />Et toi Yvette, ne trouves – tu pas cela malsain?<br />Passes-moi ma plume et laisses-moi oublier<br />Mes versets sacrés et faire diluer et boire l’encre<br />De mes talismans et amulettes car tout s’éteint<br /><br />Dis-moi, donc que tout se passera bien<br />Dis-moi combien de Zineb et de Hanane ?<br />Te faudra-t-il pour que tu puisses étancher la soif<br />De tendresse qui remplit tes nuits sans fin</span></p><br /><p></p></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">In poetry or in prose and no matter what the language or the medium is, human emotions and passions and feelings of love and brotherhood speak for themselves trenscending all frontiers
I APPRECIATE GETTING FEEDBACK FROM EVERYBODY.THANKS</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0