Joanna Svensson
TO GRETA THUNBERG

                                         

Greta - you are
Like a newborn star
- of hope

Born in the bitterdark reality
A reality that is about to turn pale
A reality that is about to vanish

You with your warm feelings
And your solicitude of our planet

You dare to protest
And fight with strong words
against powerful men

You refuse to accept
That the trees are singing
Their swansong
You refuse to accept
That the winds are dancing
Their dance of death

You have seen
That heaven is crying
And sheds its tears of pity
Over our existence

You, Greta, are
Like a newborn star
- of hope!

©® Joanna Svensson

© Private picture Joanna Svensson

جمال سالك يكتب
عن القصيدة الروحية العراقية  لشموئيل نوريه

قصيده الرحيل:
هذه القصيدة تعكس روحية عراقية حقيقية  كتبها الروائي (( شموئيل موريه )) أديب وباحث يهودي من أصل عراقي. ولد في بغداد عام 1932 وأجبر على الهجرة منها عام 1951 وهو ابن 18 سنة ،درس العربية وآدابها في الجامعة العبرية في القدس ،وحصل على شهادة الدكتوراة من جامعة لندن. يعمل حاليا أستاذا للغة العربية وآدابها في الجامعة العبرية ويشغل بها منصب رئيس دائرة اللغة العربية وآدابها .

"   قصيدة الرحيل   "

قالت لي أمي: "ظلمونا في العراق،

وضاقَ المُقامُ بنا يا ولدي،

فما لنا و"للصبر الجميل" ؟

فهيا بنا للرحيل!"

وعندما بلغنا الوصيدا،

قالت لي: "يا ولدي لا تَحزنْ،

إِاللّي ما يريدكْ لا تريدَهْ "،

هَمستْ: " يا حافرَ البير "

"بربكَ قلْ لي لهذا سببْ؟ "

ورَحلنا ...

وقبلَ رَحيلِها الأخيرْ،

قالتْ لي أمّي،

والقلبُ كسيرْ :

" أحنّ إلى العراق يا ولدي،

أحنّ إلى نسيمِ دِجلة

يوشوِشُ للنخيلِ،

إلى طينها المِعطار

إلى ذيّاك الخميلِ،

بالله يا ولدي،

إذا ما زُرتَ العراقْ

بعدَ طولِ الفراقْ

قبّلِ الأعتابْ

وسلم على الأحبابْ

وحيّ الديار

وانسَ ما كانَ منهم ومنّا!"

* * *

هذه الليلة، زارتني أمّي

وعلى شـفتيـها عتابْ:

"أما زرت العراق بعدُ ؟

أما قبّلتَ الأعتابْ؟"

قلت: "واللهِ يا أمّي،

لِي إليها شوقٌ ووَجْـدُ،

ولكن "الدار قفرا، والمزار بعيدْ "،

ففي كلِّ شِبر منَ العراقِ لَحدُ

ومياهُ دجلةَ والفرات، كأيامّ التتار

تجري فيها دماءٌ ودموعُ

تحطّمت الصواري وهوتِ القلوعُ

فكيف الرجوعُ؟

أماه، ليس في العراق اليومَ

عزّ ومجدُ،

لم يبق فيها

سوى الضياعِ والدموعْ!

أماه، كيف أزورُ العراق؟

أما ترين كيف يُنْحرُ

عراقنا الحبيبْ،

من الوريد إلى الوريدْ؟

ويَقْتلُ المسلمُ أخاه

فكيفَ بنا ونحنُ يهودُ !

خبّـريني بالله يا أمي !

كيف أعودُ ؟

ولمنْ أعودُ !

ونحنُ يهودُ ؟؟؟

 By Faleh Al Khazraji
My Love

My sweet dreams always in twilight
Focus on his cheerful presence at night
To be free l rely on his wing and flight
To be witty l depend on his pen and write
To be strong l always lean on his might
He is a demonstrator for human right
A brave fighter if others impose a fight

In kindeness my Lord has a deep insight
His poetry star is gracefully bright
His love tree always fruits quite
His love in sadness is divine delight
He embraces and hugs souls tight
In friendliness he is going alright
And in qualities he is beautifully upright
     By Faleh Al Khazraji

Hülya n. Yilmaz
ripples

i am but a tiny ripple
in the water of life, oft moving too fast

"moving too fast",
as Ryan Montebleau was singing
a few days ago on the road to New Mexico
i had heard that song before,
but its impact this time was profound
as i had been doing some soul-searching
for quite a while amid nature's gorgeousness
his words reached deep within . . .

moving too fast as a tiny ripple
in the raging waters of life,
facing along the way many a strife
yet also many a sunshiny smile
countless ones given as a gift to me
and those i have been gifted with
to give unto others

still . . .
moving too fast as a tiny ripple
on the raging waters of life,
wishing all along that i had taken
each of my breaths only one sip at a time

(c) hülya n. yılmaz, 7.5.2019

poem: Bozena Helena Mazur _Nowak
''in the gazebo''
Translated into the Arabic language
by Syrian poet, Shurouk Hammoud

Joanna Svensson
TO GRETA THUNBERG

Greta - you are
Like a newborn star
- of hope

Born in the bitterdark reality
A reality that is about to turn pale
A reality that is about to vanish

You with your warm feelings
And your solicitude of our planet

You dare to protest
And fight with strong words
against powerful men

You refuse to accept
That the trees are singing
Their swansong
You refuse to accept
That the winds are dancing
Their dance of death

You have seen
That heaven is crying
And sheds its tears of pity
Over our existence

You, Greta, are
Like a newborn star
- of hope!

©® Joanna Svensson

© Private picture Joanna Svensson

All days seem the same
© Bozena Helena Mazur-Nowak

The outside world is waiting to be healed
but blinds cover the windows
and pain clings like a demon with sharp claws
and the way out is like the Way of the Cross.

On the threshold the pain stumbles over despair
and in the bedroom guarding memories, curled tightly,
a ginger cat gloomily meows.

There is a void that cannot be filled
when children leave the nest before they are ready to fly.
The nights are darker, all days seem the same.
Unshed tears hover, waiting to fall.
We stare at the blue bike standing orphaned in the hallway
and ask ourselves – Why?