Jamrat and Tannoor
Najwa by: Zuhair Daim

The storm is coming and the wind outside is strong
And the cold is bitter and harsh
And the embers dance with joy in my beautiful skirt
Chestnut grains are caressed at times
Others call me…
Isn’t it time, my friend, for you to draw me?
that you sing me
To plant hope in your notebook
A warm poem…
She talks regarding the homeless, the outcast, and the abandoned
And the dark tents of sad children
Another is regarding Lebanon, which is hungry and enveloped in darkness
And hunger takes its toll
He prostrates at the feet of life
Crying, screaming and wailing:
Have mercy on us and have mercy on Arza and its people..

I woke up to a thunderous thunder
So I go back to my tandoor
And to sleepy embers
Fade or almost
So I hasten to a Galilean olive grove
It was cut by a poor woodsman
To nourish my wandering soul.
.

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