Syrian Eyes

[miyako73]

Dusts settling above their eyelids,
They all look at me as if my words
Are inaudible flutters of feathers.
I ask them the way to the market;
Their mouths unwilling, they glance
At the ruined shadows in the sun.

Across the fabric stall selling silk veils,
A woman covered in sewn rags cowers,
Her blinks sleepy, her long squints tired.
Only the east wind, scorching at noon,
Reaches her palm, touches her arm;
Her begging stare fails to stir anyone.

A boy who sings a prayer in his hum
Sits on the ground near the fruit stand,
Watching the noise of intoxicated flies.
His pride concealed by his amber eyes,
Hunger stifling his tongue, drying his lips,
He prays for the basket of berries to rot.

On the bench outside the coffee shop,
Where they burn tobacco and apple peels,
An old man rests, but his gaze is restless.
Checking the faces of the voices he hears,
He waits everyday for his missing sons
And his daughters he will no longer see.

I walk around the half-burnt market,
Along the bombed roads, on the paths
Leading to deep holes and more ruins.
I see a thousand Syrian eyes in Aleppo
But not a single drop of pain on a cheek;
They hold back their tears for the graves.

[Mohammad Ahmad]

Dusts settling above their eyelids,
They all look at me as if my words
Are inaudible flutters of feathers.
I ask them the way to the market;
Their mouths unwilling, they glance
At the ruined shadows in the sun.

Ah! To the Syrian eyelids , but alas they went under the ruins, really I am touched when I read it
Beauty is as transparent pure water we are obliged to drink it bitterly
But how do you have the feeling of the Eastern world؟
Are you Arabic?

[miyako73]

I read translated Arabic and Sufi poems. My being Asian also helps. Reading Edward Said also makes it easy for me to shy away from colonialist, orientalist, and voyeuristic perspectives.

[Mohammad Ahmad]

I read translated Arabic and Sufi poems. My being Asian also helps. Reading Edward Said also makes it easy for me to shy away from colonialist, orientalist, and voyeuristic perspectives.
You can read for me, here at my first days in this forum I sent many translated Arabic poems and in my post ( the neoclassical Arab poetry) there is six translated poems belong to the departed Egyptian poet Mahmud Sami al-Barudi, as it was said that he is the pioneer of Renaissance Arab poetry in 19th century.
Moreover, there is my reply to Billy Joel lyric poem somewhere it was published.
I am ready to exchange with you the knowledge if you want for the sake of poetry development.

[dara.cv]

Wow, I don't even know if I will be able to fully express how this poem made me feel. I love how everything burns.

You detail so precisely the desolation of war and the indifference to suffering it leaves. It is perfectly projected in your opening verse, "Dusts settling above their eyelids". It seems that such a nuisance would be easy to remedy, but there is no will to avoid the irritation, so the dust settles. How unfair for the boy to watch flies having more of a meal than himself, his only power praying for retribution. The characters lack tears for the life they live or each other because all they can mourn is the life and lives they've lost.