A poem sung by Fairouz a long time ago: 


ذاكر يا ترى طورنا الأخضر            حيث كانت تفئ الطيور

يومها حبنا كان في حينا               قصة الورد لحن الزهور

ذاكر يا ترى شعري الأشقر           والشريطة والشال الحرير

حين خبئت في سمعي المرهف         همة الريح كفيض العبير

و بعد ترى من حكايا

وأثقل روض السمر

تحدث عنه الصبايا

يجئ  إليه  القمر

ذاكر يا ترى وعدك المقمر               بالرجوع و قطف الورود

أم تراه مضى حبنا و أنقضى            موسما مفردا لا يعود

and my translation:

Do you remember, I wonder, our green mountain to where the birds returned?

That day our love was, to everyone, the story of flowers and melody of roses.

Do you remember, I wonder, my blond hair, my ribbon, and my silk shawl,

When you hid in my ears the whisper of the wind like a flood of aroma?

And still, I find those who copied me and burdened the night-talk gardens,

The girls talk of them, and the moon comes to them.

Do you remember, I wonder, your moon-lit promise of return and of picking roses?

Or do you think our love has gone and ended, one lone season not to return?


Sorry for the unavoidable translation of Samar into night-talk, but it is what it is.

I don’t know who the author is but would like to. Anyone?

Thanks to Mary for giving me the song, now I can’t get it out of my head. (She talks about the song’s circumstances here).

And finally a7eb ashkor Google Translate wel magma3 al la3’awe we ma3hom al mo3gam al wageez for letting me stay up an extra 30 minutes past 5 am.