The Tabernacle of the Lord - Lamentation of the Fathers - Texts from the World
In the summer of 1990, a war was raging in the region, and catastrophes were looming. It was a year of dust and a profound existential reflection on a nation that had walked and moved in poetry but drank and ate with wars. In Raqqa, eastern Syria, we passed by a man by chance, asking for water. He was crying alone, far from the nearby mud houses. A man in his fifties, as tall as a cypress and with the dignity of a knight, he was crying bitterly, his tears soaking his embroidered Arab robe in this sweltering heat, adding even more embroideries. I got out of my car with all the vigor of a young man in his twenties and asked him, "Do you need anything? Can we offer you some assistance?" He said to me, as if whispering to me alone: My father died and the roof of the house collapsed. Then he said in a voice I will never forget: I am not crying... and I am crying over the marsh and its bounty Once upon the river's scarcity and its bounty He who gave the attab and its bounty has passed away And the sea of attaba has become dust upon dust This attaba verse fell on my head like a heavy club, and I sat down beside the man, powerless. I memorized it in one gulp, with its quirks and its ailments, its ambiguity and its revelation. I embraced the grieving man who cried in front of a stranger out of respect for a relative. We men understand this. I memorized this verse like the stroke of a sword and kept repeating it until my hair turned gray and I lost my father, who interpreted the verse anew with a single stroke of the sword as well. He explained to me all this crying that breaks stone, even though I had been preparing for the situation since that scene that had spoiled the colors of life for a young man in the prime of life. Pay attention; It is also a coincidence that death inevitably comes to relatives and strangers, and that the death of a father - as we have seen - is a violent wind that tears down tents and exposes men's nakedness, turning them back into children.
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The Tabernacle of the Lord - Lamentation of the Fathers - Texts from the World
In the summer of 1990, a war was raging in the region, and catastrophes were looming. It was a year of dust and a profound existential reflection on a nation that had walked and moved in poetry but drank and ate with wars. In Raqqa, eastern Syria, we passed by a man by chance, asking for water. He was crying alone, far from the nearby mud houses. A man in his fifties, as tall as a cypress and with the dignity of a knight, he was crying bitterly, his tears soaking his embroidered Arab robe in this sweltering heat, adding even more embroideries. I got out of my car with all the vigor of a young man in his twenties and asked him, "Do you need anything? Can we offer you some assistance?" He said to me, as if whispering to me alone: My father died and the roof of the house collapsed. Then he said in a voice I will never forget: I am not crying... and I am crying over the marsh and its bounty Once upon the river's scarcity and its bounty He who gave the attab and its bounty has passed away And the sea of attaba has become dust upon dust This attaba verse fell on my head like a heavy club, and I sat down beside the man, powerless. I memorized it in one gulp, with its quirks and its ailments, its ambiguity and its revelation. I embraced the grieving man who cried in front of a stranger out of respect for a relative. We men understand this. I memorized this verse like the stroke of a sword and kept repeating it until my hair turned gray and I lost my father, who interpreted the verse anew with a single stroke of the sword as well. He explained to me all this crying that breaks stone, even though I had been preparing for the situation since that scene that had spoiled the colors of life for a young man in the prime of life. Pay attention; It is also a coincidence that death inevitably comes to relatives and strangers, and that the death of a father - as we have seen - is a violent wind that tears down tents and exposes men's nakedness, turning them back into children.
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The Tabernacle of the Lord - Lamentation of the Fathers - Texts from the World
376
The Tabernacle of the Lord - Lamentation of the Fathers - Texts from the World
376
14.99
In Stock
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9789933384869 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | ??? ????? ???????? ?????? ???????? |
| Publication date: | 05/31/2025 |
| Sold by: | Bookwire |
| Format: | eBook |
| Pages: | 376 |
| File size: | 4 MB |
| Language: | Arabic |
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