Kabil

Had I told the sea

What I felt for you

It would have left

it’s shores

It’s shells

And followed me

- Nizar Qabbani

Qana

The face of Qana Pale, like that of Jesus and the sea breeze of April… Rains of blood.. and tears.. They entered Qana stepping on our charred bodies Raising a Nazi flag in the lands of the South and rehearsing its stormy chapters   Hitler cremated them in the gas chambers   and they came after him to burn us Hitler kicked them out of Eastern Europe and they kicked us out of our lands They entered Qana Like hungry wolves Putting to fire the house of the Messiah Stepping on the dress of Hussain and the dear land of the South We saw the tears in Ali's eyes We heard his voice as he prayed under the rain of bloody skies Qana unveiled what was hidden We saw America Wearing the old coat of a Jewish Rabbi Leading the slaughter Blasting our children for no reason Blasting our wives for no reason Blasting our trees for no reason Blasting our thoughts for no reason Has it been decreed in her constitution, She, America, mistress of the world, In Hebrew .. that she should humble us al-Arabs? Has it been decreed that each time a ruler in America wants to win the presidency that he should kill us... We al Arabs?

-Nizar Qabbani

Self-taught

The failed echo will help me And the tyrannical secrets inspire me! Times of resounding anxiety And a storm hugs me tightly Here the cities of contradiction contain me The countryside of art precedes it I am drawn to the current by self-taught people My heart is steadfast in the war alone

And despite the hatred I prepare for the feverish blindness!

Sakina Al-Sharif

Every time i look at you,

my world slips...

Bin yıldız değerinde bir şaheser olduğumu söylüyorsun, bir hazine ve şimdiye kadar gördüğün en güzel tablo benim.

Bana içinde sadece birkaç dakika yaşayabileceğim bir illüzyon sarayı inşa ediyorsun.

sonra bir kaç kelimeden başka bir şey olmadan kendi gerçeğime dönüyorum.

Painting - Edward Povey

Ayrılırken...

İlk gecede,

Bu gecenin geçmeyeceğini hissedeceksin,

ve gece alışılmadık derecede karanlık,

Sessizlik dayanılmaz bir gürültü haline geldi,

Yatağın mezarlık, örtün kefen,

kalbin inliyor, aklın mücadele ediyor,

ve gözyaşların bir alev,

Sokaktaki sesler seni sinirlendirecek, kardeşinin şakaları seni sinirlendirecek, annenin ısrarı seni sinirlendirecek, yemekler tatsız ve su tuzlu, odanızın ne kadar küçük olduğunu fark edeceksiniz. Tavsiyem...

Kimseye başvurmayın! özellikle ilk gece, kimseye ulaşmayın. Ve erken yatma, teslimiyetin başladığı yer burası, kırıldığın için iyi olduğunu söyleme ve kendini eski mesajlara bakmaktan alıkoy, onlar bir şey ifade etmez çünkü onlar eskidir. Ve hiçbir şarkı dinleme, bu bir tuzak! Ve ağrınız organik olmadığı için herhangi bir ilaç almayın çünkü o tür ağrılar uyuşturulamaz. acınızı hissedin ve sessizce yaşayın, bir odada ya da deniz kenarında. En önemlisi… kendi başınıza

- Farid Emara

‘

Have you ever had a crush? Have you ever felt a rush? Makes my heart stop, she didn't even blush And I got a crush Oh man I got a crush Got a psychedelic dagger in my heart, tell the paramedics to rush

I hate crushes, I cover bruises with paintbrushes Pour it all in the music now that my bank's ruptured

She never texts me, she never texts me, she never texts me Never texts me, she never texts me, forgot to text me

Well I guess we accept the ones that neglect us And my moms say that we disrespect the ones that perfect us And try to protect us

I really hope that you get this My thoughts are weighin' me down My neck can't handle the necklace Your father says that I'm reckless, I didn't cause all that wreckage

had to give you this message I wrote it straight from the soul and it didn't make sense to text it So I snuck up in your room, put it on your shoulder and in return You sent me back a restraining order.

Jaden - let it breath

Libya: From Sands of Time to Storms of Change

Beneath the blazing sun of North Africa, bordered by the ancient tides of the Mediterranean and the vast breath of the Sahara, lies a land whose story has danced with gods, kings, conquerors, and revolutionaries. This is Libya: a nation born from the dust of myth, forged in the fires of empire, and reshaped in the hands of her people.

Origins in the Whispering Sands

Long before cities rose and borders were drawn, the land we now call Libya was home to prehistoric peoples who left their mark in the rock art of the Tadrart Acacus, carvings of giraffes and hunters that tell of a greener Sahara, long vanished. By the Bronze Age, Libya was not one land, but many tribes. Chief among them were the Meshwesh and the Libu—nomadic Berber peoples who grazed their herds along the Nile’s western flanks. Egyptian scribes would scrawl their names in hieroglyphs, sometimes as foes, other times as mercenaries or neighbors. Though they lacked pyramids or written chronicles of their own, the Libyans lived rich oral traditions, passed from elder to youth beside desert fires. Their tongues were early Berber, ancestors to the Amazigh languages spoken to this day.

The Libyan Pharaohs of Egypt

In one of history’s great ironies, these wandering tribes—once dismissed as desert raiders—would wear the crowns of Pharaohs. Around 945 BCE, a chieftain of the Meshwesh named Shoshenq I seized power in a divided Egypt. He founded the 22nd Dynasty, becoming the first Libyan Pharaoh. He was no usurper in chains, but a ruler accepted by Egypt’s priests and people, a man who walked the sacred halls of Karnak and marched his armies as far as Jerusalem. For over two centuries, Libyan dynasties ruled parts of Egypt. They wove themselves into Egyptian culture, marrying daughters into temple lineages and honoring the gods of old, while maintaining their tribal roots in the Delta’s tangled marshes.

Under Greek, Roman, and Islamic Rule

Time, ever the patient sculptor, wore down Libya’s independent spirit. By the time of Herodotus in the 5th century BCE, Libya had become a vague term for "all lands west of Egypt." The Greeks founded Cyrene in eastern Libya, a shining jewel of Hellenistic culture. Later came the Romans, who tamed the coast and named it Tripolitania and Cyrenaica. Great cities bloomed, like Leptis Magna, where Emperor Septimius Severus—a Libyan by birth—would rise to rule the Roman world. With the coming of Islam in the 7th century CE, Libya joined the rising tide of Arab civilization. Arabic took root, and Berber tribes embraced the faith, blending it with ancient customs in a uniquely North African tapestry.

From Ottoman Sands to Italian Chains

From the 16th to 19th centuries, Libya was ruled by the Ottomans, often in name more than presence. Local rulers like the Karamanlis in Tripoli built their own dynasties, their corsairs feared across the Mediterranean. But in 1911, the old world shifted once more—Italy invaded, snatching Libya from Ottoman control. The Libyans resisted fiercely under leaders like Omar Mukhtar, the "Lion of the Desert," whose guerilla war against Mussolini’s fascists became legend. Though captured and executed in 1931, Mukhtar’s spirit ignited a flame that would not die.

A Brief Bloom: The Kingdom of Libya

After World War II, Libya was stitched together from three provinces and granted independence in 1951 under King Idris I. For the first time in centuries, Libya was sovereign. But beneath the crown, discontent stirred. Oil wealth enriched a few, while many remained poor. In 1969, a young officer named Muammar Gaddafi led a bloodless coup, ending the monarchy and beginning one of the most controversial reigns in modern Arab history.

Gaddafi's Rule and the Gathering Storm

For 42 years, Gaddafi ruled with a blend of charisma, brutality, and eccentric philosophy. He styled himself as the "Brother Leader", preached his Green Book, and funded revolutions abroad. At times a pariah, at times an ally, he kept Libya's oil flowing and dissent smothered. But the winds of change were rising. When the Arab Spring swept across the region in 2011, Libyans—long repressed—rose in revolt. The uprising turned into a brutal civil war, drawing NATO intervention. In October 2011, Gaddafi was captured and killed. His fall was cheered, but peace did not follow.

Divide me with fatigue,

for I need a sore chest to cry on. Like you, I have something made of glass, and the chests of those who are comfortable, are made of marble. Return to my world so that I may rest, for I love you even when I’m tired.

"Onu ölesiye seviyor musun?" diye sordular.

"Mezarımda ondan bahset ve beni nasıl hayata döndürdüğünü izle" dedim.

- Mahmoud Darwish