arabic poems

- Will this be our island after they erase its features and change its conditions? Working with them has blinded you, my friend. You only stayed in your lavish home because of your friendship with those in power and your flattery of the decision makers. Abdul Azim's words upset Mansour and he said: - And there are those who are addicted to poverty, considering it an irreplaceable culture and an unchanging identity. Listen to me: My work with the government has built you a marina, a rest house, and a bathroom. What have you done, you sons of festivals, shrines, and hollow superstitions? Mansour said: - All of this is true, and today you come to us with the intention of demolition and eviction. What is the use of a marina and a rest house? Abdul Azim's face turned pale and Kawthar trembled with fear. He said: - I see the island, with its heavy stagnation, vainly challenging the burgeoning wheel of civilization. I see it that way, with its aging houses and its people molded by petrification. Kawthar took refuge in her father's arms, who said: - Building is a branch of reform, and whoever seeks reform should not demolish! The meeting of the two friends ended differently from how it began. The truth is that in homeland there is something of the stubbornness of argument, and a trace of the friction of souls. Mansour left his friend’s house, intending to go to those taps located next to the old coastal headquarters. These are the signs of evening floating with their dreamy stars, above his tireless efforts, covering his cloudy path with a bewildering black veil. The fisherman wanted to fill the bucket of water with his daughter Kawthar, and the little girl had become accustomed to their way there, to the point that she no longer feared the darkness or the loneliness, as she frolicked and played, and led him despite the scarcity of signs and the rarity of guides in the total darkness. At the village of Ghait al-Nasara, Mansour filled the bucket and carried it with heavy steps, until he returned to his village after some effort and for a while, at the middle of the evening, the sound of demolition trucks sweeping through the houses of his island reached him. He advanced towards the sound, covered with fear, weighed down by the weight of an obsession that began to be realized before his eyes, what Suddenly, he saw the truck destroying the pillars of his friend Abdul Azim's house. He shouted at the driver, "Keep your hands off his house! My friend is still asleep inside." The few seconds he took to warn them did not help him achieve his goal, and no one heard them or paid attention to him. Mansour screamed an earth-shattering scream when the pillars of his friend's house collapsed, shaking the pillars of the temple of justice before his eyes, and the mirage of his world reshaped itself afterward. The man wondered, with a pang in his heart: What trace of its enthusiastic men has that blind civilization left in its terrible, relentless advance? He turned to his little girl and saw her crying. Her sobs pierced his chest like a dagger of adulterated gold. Mansour had hidden the horror of the destruction from his little girl's eyes, while his eyes moved with Hatoon's tears. It seemed to him that he had never cried, but that his tears had fallen alone and covered his conscience with a fig leaf. He extended his gaze to the shrine of his grandfather, Sheikh Azbi Abu Suleiman, and said: "I have remained, and those who disregard you have not!"
arabic poems
translated poem in arabic