“في قلب كل مجرم واحة جففتها الظروف، تتلهف لليد التي ستملأها بالحب، لتتدفق مجددا بالخير والانسانية.”
― للموت عيون ملوّنة
― للموت عيون ملوّنة
“Pity the nation that is full of beliefs and empty of religion.
Pity the nation that wears a cloth it does not weave
and eats a bread it does not harvest.
Pity the nation that acclaims the bully as hero,
and that deems the glittering conqueror bountiful.
Pity a nation that despises a passion in its dream,
yet submits in its awakening.
Pity the nation that raises not its voice
save when it walks in a funeral,
boasts not except among its ruins,
and will rebel not save when its neck is laid
between the sword and the block.
Pity the nation whose statesman is a fox,
whose philosopher is a juggler,
and whose art is the art of patching and mimicking
Pity the nation that welcomes its new ruler with trumpeting,
and farewells him with hooting,
only to welcome another with trumpeting again.
Pity the nation whose sages are dumb with years
and whose strongmen are yet in the cradle.
Pity the nation divided into fragments,
each fragment deeming itself a nation.”
― The Garden of The Prophet
Pity the nation that wears a cloth it does not weave
and eats a bread it does not harvest.
Pity the nation that acclaims the bully as hero,
and that deems the glittering conqueror bountiful.
Pity a nation that despises a passion in its dream,
yet submits in its awakening.
Pity the nation that raises not its voice
save when it walks in a funeral,
boasts not except among its ruins,
and will rebel not save when its neck is laid
between the sword and the block.
Pity the nation whose statesman is a fox,
whose philosopher is a juggler,
and whose art is the art of patching and mimicking
Pity the nation that welcomes its new ruler with trumpeting,
and farewells him with hooting,
only to welcome another with trumpeting again.
Pity the nation whose sages are dumb with years
and whose strongmen are yet in the cradle.
Pity the nation divided into fragments,
each fragment deeming itself a nation.”
― The Garden of The Prophet
“يحتاج اﻹنسان إلى لحظات الوحدة... يشذب أغصان ماضيه اليابسة... يتفكر فيها كيف كانت و لما زالت.. يجمعها في النهاية و يحرقها في موقدة النسيان... يبقى رمادها ذكرى في أقبية القلب.. والرائحة لا تزول !”
―
―
“كيف حاله الآن؟ كيف حال الوجه الذي حفرته مناجل الحزن في كل المواسم؟ كل الصمت فيه وكأنما خزّن الكلام في مآقيه ولم يبح. في العادة, تشعل الأسرار صاحبها, تحرق ذهنه, تصيب جسده بقشعريرة وهي تثور في حبسها. إلا أن أسرار والدها اعتاشت على هدوئه واستسلمت مستكينة.”
― أعياد الشتاء
― أعياد الشتاء
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— last activity Sep 15, 2022 05:38AM
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"دودة كتب/Doodet Kutob" [Arabic for "bookworm"], a YouTube show about books and reading: bit.ly/DianaBookworm Presented and written by: Diana Nassar ...more
Sukaina’s 2025 Year in Books
Take a look at Sukaina’s Year in Books, including some fun facts about their reading.
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