الرئيسية / قصائد مترجمة (صفحه 3)

قصائد مترجمة

The mirror lying down

 باللغة الإنجليزية Saadia mufarreh Translated by Nay Hannawi The garden he has been persistently painting have no trees, or rivers of milk and honey running through. The spaces in the gardens he paints can only be pale blue as if they are mirrors lying on their backs looking at a …

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Loss

 باللغة الإنجليزية Saadia mufarreh Translated by Nay Hannawi Only on the side roads I try to be. I stroke my hair, hidden by necessity. I sneak my right hand in my pocket, I walk like a swan, I swing my bag in the new air I sing my spontaneous tunes. …

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Distance 

لوحة للفنان ضياء العزاوي

 باللغة الإنجليزية Saadia mufarreh Translated by Nay Hannawi Between the room and the hall is a corridor with broken tiles. My mother complains how small it is. Only my sore body knows how long it really is.

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Refrigerator

 باللغة الإنجليزية Saadia mufarreh Translated by Nay Hannawi I opened it, tidy were its contents. Bottles of preserved milk cartons of yoghurt bags of frozen meat yellow apples medicine and bread and …and … etc. In the refrigerator of my soul! The contents scatter and expire and no one opens …

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To Mahmoud Darwish

 باللغة الإنجليزية Saadia mufarreh Translated by Nay Hannawi   Where incidents walk the same road and the words ride together along the banks of first question, where there are many  declared attempts at suicide by linguists and grammarians , and the children on the boring school chairs learn how to …

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To Fadwa Tuqan

 باللغة الإنجليزية Saadia mufarreh Translated by Nay Hannawi Right in her something lives. It takes a carnival of wisdom as a ritual, it sits on a throne  of femininity and questions called amazement . Its features sketch a full moon behind ashes of clouds and in the presence and in …

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Soon She Will Leave

 باللغة الإنجليزية SAADIA MUFARREH translation by Hend Mubarek Aleidan with Patty Paine 1 Soon she will leave. She is busy choosing her finest dress. She applies her makeup precisely, and reviews missed calls on her cell. 2 She is making an ordinary lunch while writing her dead poetry. She sings …

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