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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=556935" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>I Can't leave The Song</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">(To Tuesday’s gossips) <br>*<br>The comparison between Lattakia <br>and Paris<br>will not be in favor of Paris! <br>Not because I am greedy<br>and there is no limit to my contentment<br>but because <br>as you say<br>to love...<br>is something<br>and to fall in love is <br>Something else.<br>\ <br>When soil becomes more red<br>and trees with much riper fruits<br>If we look through <br>the window’s break <br>not from behind <br>the dimly glass.<br> Let it rain<br>and rain<br>and rain<br>our hope that the sky would dry up<br>two minutes away<br>when we will move down <br>checking the growth of pillars<br>and the ascending stairways<br>to upper floors<br>in the air.<br>\ <br>Souvenir photos were taken for us<br>standing<br>with our muddy feet<br>on the trunks of palm trees<br>uprooted from their far-flung origins <br>and laid down here<br>like preys caught alive<br>snatched straight from traps<br>Wrapped in wet clothes still<br>ready to be raised <br>to save time<br>like natural columns <br>with crowns of fronds<br>in any garden<br>behind any fence.<br>...<br>Wonder what on earth<br>could we collect<br>if we climbed their long necks<br>and tore their earrings! <br> The city I was born in<br>and never left<br>equals - without any bias -<br>the city I didn’t set my foot in<br>I have never travelled to any of them.<br> Because tenderness is <br>something<br>and pity is <br>something else<br>even when they do nothing except<br>fill up that narrow space<br>in which waves were able<br>to submerge me up to my head, <br>starting by wetting the sole of my shoes<br>with heavenly blue water<br>if I take a little bit of <br>in the palms of my hands<br>I see it <br>blue<br>blue<br>however shallow it was.<br> The judgment will not be<br>in favor of Paris<br>or any other city<br>on the map of our dreams<br>because it looks like a secret word<br>Known only to those who <br>without asking them<br>are permitted to pass<br>beneath the arches of its <br>breasts.<br> where straight line is almost a miracle<br>for all what I see<br>leaned<br>and twisted<br>and slipped down<br>side by side with raindrops<br>plunging downwards<br>without finding an escape<br>on the surface of the glass- lake<br>that tries its utmost<br>to avoid me<br>their images <br>Nor their voices.<br>But<br>in their paleness <br>They fade away<br>and with every step<br>they look back<br>calling and pointing to me<br>to follow them.<br>I who how tightly closed the window<br>found myself	<br>plastered to car's seat<br>deep down in my numbness<br>can not<br>Leave<br>the<br>song..<br>________________ _________12/6/1998</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Monzer+Masri">Monzer Masri</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=556935" data-title="I Can't leave The Song de Monzer Masri" data-description="(To Tuesday’s gossips) 
*
The comparison between Lattakia 
and Paris
will not be in favor of Paris! 
Not because I am greedy
and there is no limit to my contentment
but because 
as you say
to love...
is something
and to fall in love is 
Somethin..."></div>
</div>
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