Hair days
Among the poems that were said about the days of time, a poem (Days of Time) in the Hijazi dialect of Mr. Abdul Wahab Hashem Najdi, in which he recalls the days of his childhood, amusement and fun:
Where are you, days, time, and rest?
If only you hadn't had your sweetness come back to us
And where are you days
The House of the Stone, Hall, Diwan and Fateh Jallah
Covering shelves in the walls and ceiling in the newspaper covers us
From Albert we make a bucket of two million Zum enough for us
Otherwise, Saffian Saffian from the piston will give him a wedding
The door of the alley, with its plaster, hookah with Zerfan, and in Roshan, a drink is stacked with truana

Where is a charcoal iron, two broom drawers and the palm tree sachets?
Where are the samovars, Abu al-Fahm and al-Dukhan, and whoever is in my milk pigeon
Fin Sidi Shahan Al-Nass in Shaaban, and I played Kabush on the street
For love and shields, we rejoice over the Caspians and the games we make with our hands
The days of barbarians and liries are so long that we make promises with a loud remake of Todina
And from the coca we collect the cover, we cover the cover of an Arab that we forget
My father's and my mother's message to the shop, Oyama the bamboo, a leech we had
Oh God, the days of time
By God, I have longed for dates, and I have longed for porridge locally
Where are the beans
Fein Ras El Mandi in digging, where is Harissa Subh Mahra
Where is the evening of surfaces in the moon and the mattress
Where are the people who live in the age of swimming and swimming in Al-Asria
Mufta was traveling instead of covered with a paste of living
Ihram was instead of Ghutr Fin Top, fattah and chest
And where are you days
How was the drinking water Moya and how we were dictated by Minister
She used to wear a faucet that was tired, and the pitchers of silence
Where do you meet the sacrifice of accuracy with Laba Fen lanterns, with a blow?
Where are the streets you cannot hear, and where are the homes of all our God?
If the valley was mistaken, it would have been dusty, and his mother, if he was upset, we would also raise her
That's how long we used to go

0 Comments