I am worried about myself.
I wonder about my heart
I hear the beating of my heart
I see my love
I want to love you more.
I am worried about myself.
I pretend I don’t see you
I feel great when looking into your eyes
I feel the passion of my love for you
I worry about the treason of time
I cry for every moment I wasn’t with you.
I am worried about myself.
I understand that my love for you is increasing
I say to the night tomorrow I’ll see her
I dream that we are dancing over clouds
I try to fly to the farthest place
I hope that our love will last forever.
I am worried about myself.

My Friend,
You don’t have the right to be in love with anyone except me.
You have two options: me and just me.
I’m so in love that it’s out of my control, yet it feels so good.
I love how kind you are to everyone, and also to me.
But although you don’t want be loved by me, at least be sensible:
Don’t vainly try for more, your hug is made for me.
There is no strength to your promises,
But because I’m crazy I’ll trust you again.
I am like a small flower in a great storm:
When you flourish I will go out from here.
I am not with you but alone in the end.
Why am I valued to you even less than
the windows and doors that accompany you?
You will arrive too late and I will die with just your memory.
Without you I will die at the farthest point of the world.
Yours,
X

Once, it was the cradle of civilisation
Now, Syria has become a country of destruction
Syria bleeds… and eyes shed tears
Syrians around the world are suffering
and those who are still in Syria are still living in the bitterness of war
and those who have migrated are living the pain and cruelty
the pain of alienation, the pain of waiting, the pain of loss,
the pain of refraction
every Syrian has become a shell…
many have buried their beloved ones under the earth
many are lost in the mirage…
Between the countries of the world there looms, like crows
Looking for life away from torment, yearning for their loved ones’ presence
While living between strangers under the name of a Refugee they become untitled
Great sensations that cannot be described with pens or expressed in words
Syrians have died while they are still alive…

Children are shouting and mothers are crying
For the manhood that’s lost.
The nation is drawing blood from the refugees’ skin,
The sea shatters the hopes of the children from returning to the way things once were.
Countries are refusing to receive refugees,
Denying them care and asylum,
So death and fear haunt us from place to place,
Smothering us in the problems of life.
On this long journey we breathe out our souls to the world,
To hold back a little and restore our pride.
What can I say in this time?
When I speak about misery and the pain of life deep in my chest,
Deep in my dreams.

On a dark night
Full with despair,
As one flash of lightening,
Your presence and your smile enchanted
My heart of love.
Only with your eyes you
Caress me without using your soft hands.
Your voice is so sensual as
Every time you speak to me
It looks like you make some
Music in my ears.
The flavour of your body
Attracts me as a magnet.
In your arms I shall make my mark
And by this flavour land on stars.
Every time you kiss me,
My body shivers repeatedly.
Your lips are so soft all I want is
To put mine above yours forever, to
Flood me in an immense kiss of love

You are not your age,
Nor the clothes that you wear.
You are not a weight,
Nor the colour of your hair.
You are not your name,
Nor the dimples in your cheeks.
You are all the books you read
And all the words you speak.
You are the things that you believe,
and the people that you love.
You are the sweetness in your laugh
And the future of your dreams.

When I am a traveller away from home, I am miserable,
and I pray to God that no one be miserable like me.
I believed I would only be separated from my country in death,
but my destiny was to be separated from my country in life.
When I’m sleeping in the morning and I hear a voice,
I can hear the morning voices of those back home too.
When I am in my room with my friends,
I can’t forget those evenings in my own room with friends back home.
I used to sit there with my friends, together,
and we didn’t care if it was a happy time or a sad time.
Now my friends are looking really sad,
but I don’t know anything about them or where they are.

I am so close to you yet I still miss you…
I dream of the past…
your laughter rings in my ears…
I wish I had recorded your words to be my soul’s music…
I’d listen to it every time I miss you….
I’d smile at your beautiful lies…
I’d smile to fancy promises you promised me….
I’d smile at my own foolishness….
And I am still smiling as I write about your false promises.
What madness is this? Am I in love or am I love’s slave?
This I do not know.
I’ll just drink my coffee and recollect again and again
Those moments I spent with you,
and pretend that we’re just starting out…
So long. We will never meet again.

...like I was flying side to side
as a bird without wings to land
on top of flowers
Love makes me feel numb and dumb
With a lot of sweet words inside my heart
Like an immense feeling as a burning fire inside my soul

Mother
Mother, Mother
There’s nothing I can say about my mother, except:
God, if you have anything more splendid than
Paradise, place it under my mother’s feet.

I wish we were like birds
We fly .. We rise .. We live and we migrate..!
From exile back to our homeland,
From our homeland to each and every place we cherish..!
We live in beautiful places .. Without the need for residence papers
We have the right to travel .. To roam without a passport

We are the only ones who will ever utter the words
I wish I could be young again.
And we were driven out of our homes.

Our dreams fell like the leaves of trees in autumn.
We became like wintered trees, naked of our leaves.
We are vagrants, dispersed like corn kernels everywhere.

Like the corn is our future, too, but shattered like glass too hard to mend.

Our minds are muddled and our hopes are blown with the wind to unknown places.

It’s so hard for us to accept the bitter truth and the reality.

We do not find much humanity,
But we do in a few and they are here, standing with us.

We are grateful to those who do

Sometimes a fleeting word kills me,
Or a sentence grants me life,
Its speaker known or unknown.

Words do things that guns cannot do.

What are these words?
They are nothing but wings that allow you to fly into the
world beyond things…

…into imagination.

And what is this imagination?
It is nothing but writing that which cannot be achieved

Once upon a time there was a little girl
Who was crossing a bridge with her father when he told her:
“Hold my hand tightly so you don’t fall into the river.”
Without hesitation she replied: “No, father, you hold my hand.”
The father wondered why and so he asked her.
She said: “If I hold your hand it may slip away, but your grip is
stronger than mine and you would never let me go.”
Trust those whom you love more than trusting in yourself.
Hold their hand without asking or waiting for them to ask.
Put your life in the right hands.