** (Here I complain sir .....) ** *************** Shortcake: Maysa Dakdouk / Syria /

** (Here I complain sir .....) **

     *************** Shortcake:

            Maysa Dakdouk / Syria /

             -------------------------

The universe mocked our flowery words ...

It is the decoration of each other for the letters

The words are tired of decorating her with pearls

Garnet and perfume

We wear the sweetest dresses ...

Show off like a bride

...

Rhyme and throw in the best seas

A text to her fingers the finest rings ..

We weave wheat ...

Covers its hills and plains

Picking for their voices to sing the bunches of stars

Re-talk about the glories ...

And about some successes we turn

We didn't bark our sins ...

It is deep inside us like a fire in enlightenment

Nandour ...

And the corners of the letters

To diversify the sap fruits fruits letters

To hear her voice ...

Let's not see the smiles of stomata

Unlocked is the border ...

Thirst and hunger

A lost question in the lips twists

Is our language lost for us, and for misunderstanding .... Expressions and presentations ??!

Or we paid our thought to the West after we drunk alcohol hypocrisy and opium ?? !!

It is time for our words to become a present and active Slavic sequence of its vineyard

It is time for our words to break the rules and out of the ordinary to erect

Neither the effect nor the name of an entrained

It is time for our words to become an actor raised in all seasons

White as snow

It's time for our words to become a glow of cups ...

He bows his inspirations and roses

Sir ..

It is time for our words to grow herbs from the pores of rocks

And to wipe the dust of death from the faces

And to guide the night to coat tempted to leave before sunset.

It is time for our words to clean the thorny foreheads ...

And incense in the niche of love incense

And to end the noise saturated with hypocrisy and insanity

Sir ...

It is time for our words to awaken sleep in the graves

It is time that all words become acts.

We will not allow the suns to disappear from our sky.

Our letters will declare disobedience

If we don't give her excuses

Pardon our compassionate mother

Yamen aggressively attack you

We get you alive

And slaughter you to blood

We claim to be a delightful art of melted purple

And drag you if the waves of feeling ..

Let us narrate with your tears with blood

We offer you to the deaf an offering

We give them your letters ....

On the altar of death.

*************

**** Maysa Ali Duduk.