arabic poem

The earth rejoices at my feet
and the heavens depart from me.
It descends upon the rocks, and upon islands of down.
Then the purple burns.
I am a continent of sand.
***

These huts are birds' nests
Full-throated in the nights and early mornings
And the umbrellas on the sand are flowers
And the lamps are necklaces in their throats
At noon they are pearls and in the darkness they are light
Is my tavern or my temple lost in it
This bank on Sunday
***

I had a small cottage and a lover
And Mona walked by it, the merry summer
And the transparent darkness and the moist light
Melt her in its unseen darkness
Then the sand and the playful waves returned
Blowing the embers in the heart, the echo
Over this shore on Sunday

short story
Standing on a dilapidated bridge! I graduated from the Faculty of Engineering after much suffering and pain. This is my seventh and final year in college. My friend Issa Al-Hajjawi graduated two years ago, and he invited me to meet him at the Al-Mamar Cafe. He kept repeating the address on the phone, and I got confused. I stood in the square, lost like a child, but then I saw the shadow of a strange man. I followed him, and he directed me to the cafe. Then his shadow evaporated. Perhaps it was a mental disorder. I found Issa sitting on a chair, smoking a hookah, his big head resting under the ivy. He said he was pleased with my success and had good news. He said, “The government will build a new bridge. They want it to be similar to the famous Stanley Bridge in Alexandria, magical, over the water. They have opened the door for newly graduated engineering students to submit their design proposals. This is a great opportunity and an unprecedented initiative. They will hold a tender. The work of the person with the least expensive design will be chosen, provided it has the elements of distinction. It will then be implemented. There is a large financial reward for the winning design. I told him about my poor college GPA: "A", and he said that professional excellence is different from academic success. He also said, "You're a genius, except you don't work." I thanked him for the compliment, but he immediately said, "No need to thank me. You're a bad genius." He seemed so enthusiastic in his attack that it confused me. "For God's sake, is this a compliment or a slur?" That's how Al-Hajawi convinced me of the validity of the attempt before he left. That evening, I worked hard on designing the bridge. I greatly reduced the height of the sides, eliminated many aspects of the construction principles, used old building materials, made it narrow for individual traffic, used little concrete and steel, and chose a Pharaonic design for it. I know nothing of history other than this period, but I did not go overboard with the engravings. I was satisfied with a small life key every fifty meters. The project should not cost more than necessary. I drank a barrel of coffee so I would not fall asleep. At sunrise, I presented my project. I returned home exhausted from staying up late. There was nothing on my mind but dreams of the bridge. I slept. A few days later, the results were announced. My design won first place. The bridge was quickly built. I went there two days after its opening. There was activity, pedestrians coming and going, carts roaring, women having fun, the air was fresh. I looked closely at the passersby. I saw a man take off his clothes and jump across the low side of the bridge. He died. After this suicide, the habit of jumping off the bridge became widespread. People started jumping into the water to get rid of their pain, once, maybe, forever. The bridge became famous, and I became cursed in the city, because I built a cheap bridge that was easy to jump from. I returned to Al-Hajjawi and complained to him about my situation. He asked me: - Why doesn't the government fix its defect? - He said: - They don't respond to complaints.


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