مش عارفة ليه لما الدنيا بتمشي عكس عكاس، علاطول بافتكر القصيدة دي إللي كتبتها واحدة زميلتي وإحنا في سنة رابعة في محاضرة د.داليا الشيال؛ القصيدة بتحكي عن زهرة حتنتهي حياتها بعد شوية...
It will be a long, long day,
My little heart tells me so,
Before the sun and its first ray,
I will to unknown place ago,
Will it be as this quiet place?
Full of fresh air, water and light,
Will the sun touch again my face,
I wish this could be right,
I am only four months old,
But I will have no more to see,
It’s my turn now to be sold,
In a few minutes, I will leave my tree.
Few minutes and my killer will come,
To separate me from my body.
Then the heartless, blind and dumb
Will shout: “Flowers are ready”
By noon, I and others will go
To a flower shop to be sold
But what then? I don’t know
That’s all I am used to be told.
I listen, I hear near to me,
A voice, so sweet, loving and tender
I opened my eyes lazily to see
A young lady who resembles my late sister
She picked me up by her small hand,
And held me close to her heart,
Now, I feel my luck is not so bad
Though to unknown place, I will part.
In the evening, she met her lover,
And handed him “me” and a small book
She told him to leave us never
With her innocent delicate look.
Oh, God, I could wish nothing better, those poems
And I will live together forever.
Samar
My little heart tells me so,
Before the sun and its first ray,
I will to unknown place ago,
Will it be as this quiet place?
Full of fresh air, water and light,
Will the sun touch again my face,
I wish this could be right,
I am only four months old,
But I will have no more to see,
It’s my turn now to be sold,
In a few minutes, I will leave my tree.
Few minutes and my killer will come,
To separate me from my body.
Then the heartless, blind and dumb
Will shout: “Flowers are ready”
By noon, I and others will go
To a flower shop to be sold
But what then? I don’t know
That’s all I am used to be told.
I listen, I hear near to me,
A voice, so sweet, loving and tender
I opened my eyes lazily to see
A young lady who resembles my late sister
She picked me up by her small hand,
And held me close to her heart,
Now, I feel my luck is not so bad
Though to unknown place, I will part.
In the evening, she met her lover,
And handed him “me” and a small book
She told him to leave us never
With her innocent delicate look.
Oh, God, I could wish nothing better, those poems
And I will live together forever.
Samar
