She is Here –the translated version by Samar Edward Hanna
Painting ©Nasir Thamir
Yesterday she was tortured by a villain she draws
she emerged into life from obscurity.
she stole into our hearts as no other could
and completed the ascent up the stairs of challenge
she broke through all the barriers unhesitatingly
she writes for the moment and moments write for her
After years of silence she decides to talk
she is an example for women and a role model
she is the Invincible Iron Woman.
She is a woman from the east carrying thoughts
she seeks calmness and what surrounds her is peril
she is in pain from yesterday but smiles her defiance
Today the day has intensified and helped her after it was broken by time
Healing with her hand and the shadows are illusions around her.
No one can hinder her. Continuously she walks.
winds try in vain to kidnap her
She liberates herself with the sails of power.
And from science she harvests fruits for generations
A salty corridor filled with tears
They drown the heart with whispers
The moon in the dome of our skies
Illuminates the trail for who lost insight
She leaves the sources of pain and grows hope.
And knowingly she wears the role of valour.
She is the trustee of secrets
The moon illuminates the dome of our skies
Blazes the trail for those who have lost their way
She leaves the source of pain and grows hope.
Knowingly she wears the robe of valour.
Many have passed through her life
she has lived the joy of mothers
And been through the seasons of sacrifices
including torment and love
Between meeting and parting
Then she travelled long passages.
Free of people
she filled them with wild flowers.
Everyone applauds her.
She derives joy from others.
And no one hears her subterranean scream.
And from the bee corridor, she sends a distress signal.
She tells her lost years in her day’s details
From the balcony of hope, she climbed the moments
and painted mysterious scenes mimicking the darkness
And on the mountains of loneliness was her shelter
she took new paths refusing to come back
She didn’t intend to escape, but she’s reluctant to go back.
So she filled out all the vacant corners of life.
And painted on the walls butterflies without wings
And she possessed the ability to fly and read the poems
and moved with her, the field scarecrow and the lawn mower.
And the bird in the sky flew to dance the Zorba frenziedly
from the beauty of her soul the songs of the brave adventurers
Extraordinary peculiar plunging into the silence of the noise
It was a mixture of writing, dancing, loneliness and life.
She embraces life and declares her victory over death.
she shares with Hamlet his musings, so she created the universe.
Unique in her soul with beauty that translates the details of pain so she describes the physic
An intermediary between different languages reaches thoughts and hearts
And her heart is bleeding from loneliness while she drinks her cup of coffee
But she’s sure she’ll be safe from caprice.
All she hears is translated according to her feelings without the details of the word
No one said she was beautiful. Her mirror was scratched, obliterating her reflection
She disdains a woman’s need for sweet words.
Her thoughts are free of viscosity and grime
And in her body confusion transmutes to the glamour of desires
The gossips and babbling end at the limits of the Cherry Lane to inhabit the cave of purity.
When the fire and blood at large in the alley of the son of Adam’s war intensified,
Spreading love in the time of going and turning sadness into joy
Sewing with the threads of tenderness warm sweaters for the adults and the young
she begs the lovers who were weak and helpless to proclaim life.
Opens the door of the songs to spread love to the skies
And melt in a melancholy enveloped with smiles
she ponders the migratory pigeons that want to embrace
There is no home no children around it everything went into darkness.
And there is something inside her that lights it from the heart that opens the path to those around her
The candle lane fills the days to laugh again.
All the legends become pictures that she carries in the expatriation paths
Tell us some of their stories of the cold winter nights.
From a free dreaming and endless
Transmutation of ash into colored lilies with the colours of the memory.
she wanders around the cemetery and disperses the white flowers.
And the months and weeks and days pass as fast horses
She’s having her coffee in a black corridor and writing us the honourable history.
With all the prehistory folds to the world of truth.
To remain the individual truth with all the details tenderness
She’s a woman from the east who fought injustice and was a tree amid grass.
Expunges evil and folly and challenges humans and proves that she is a symbol of survival
death tests her but she chooses
The emergency pass as an enlightened way out.
To meet herself on a forgotten bench that the pedestrians are avoiding
But she chooses to look at the sky, and the stars smile at her.
They wonder from her laughs and she is the one who is starving and bleeding
she passes the escape route of the days and closes all the failed loopholes.
And places on a high shelf the book of her life
Life goes on and it does not ask us how it passes and how it colours the walls.
Walking and walking with her the melody of immortality sounds and the sky becomes clear without wings of birds
To fly away on the wings of butterflies, while the sun lightens the ground, no one sees it.
She is now the one who announces the dawn and does not wait for the prince in the transit corridor
The last words will be for her the heart decides the truth of the words and the eyes don’t realize its essence
They choose for her a guard with a strange name and they forget that she knows the sound of the lightening of the days.