Wake up, because silence has stopped hooves and step pedestrians.
Sleepiness has embraced the spirit of every man, while I woke up alone, longing to open my letter paper.
Love brought me close to you, but indecision throw myself away from you.
I threw my book, because I complained locking words and breathed my breath leave my bed, my love, because fear of ghosts forgotten behind the covers.
I threw my book, because I complained locking words and breathed my breath leaving pages blank in front of my eyes!
Wake up, wake up, my love and listen to me!
I listened to you, my love! I heard your call of the open sea and feel the gentle touch of your wings. I have been away from the bed, went to the field, until the dew wet feet and my shirt. This is where I stand, under the almond tree blossoms, satisfy your soul calls.
Talk to me, my love, and let your breath a breath of wind that came to me from the mountain valleys of Lebanon. Speak up. Nobody will hear besides myself. The night had dissolved all his human place.
Heaven has embroider moonlight and spread to the rest of mainland Lebanon, my love.
Heaven has meriasnya the evening shadows, thick robes stretched blown smoke from the chimney of fabric, breath blown hither, and mengelarnya in the palm of town, my love.
The residents have soundly weaving dreams in the top of his head in the middle of the walnut trees. Their souls quicken pace chasing a dream country, my love.
The men carrying limp gold and steep cliffs that will be passed flexing their knees. Their eyes were sleepy because of difficulty and fear-ridden. They threw the body into the bed as a refuge of ghosts scary and horrible, my love.
The ghosts of the past wandering in the valleys. The soul of the king across the hills. My thoughts are decorated with memories of exposing strength of the nation Chaldean, Arab splendor.
In the dark hallways, the souls of thieves who walk upright, Muncung-Muncung appetite venomous snakes emerge from the cracks of the castle, and the pain was buzzing death, vomiting along the way. Memories reveal the forgetfulness of my eyes and appeared Sodom were disgusting, and the sins of Gomorrah.
Branches swinging, my love, and desirnya met with the sound of the creek in the valley. Poetry of Solomon, David's harp tones and songs Ishak Al-Mausaili ringing in our ears.
The souls of children who are hungry at menggelupur, his mother complained of above room sadness, and disappointment had fallen from the sky. Dreams indecision struck a weak heart. I heard a groan bitterness.
Fragrant flowers waved as the breath of cedars. Carried by the breeze toward the hills, fragrant it fills the soul with love and breathed longing to fly.
But the venom of the marshes also ventured steaming along with the disease. As secret sharp arrows, the poison that had penetrated the feelings and poison the air.
Without realizing sun has starred morning light, my love, and fingers tapering east cradled spies were asleep. The light was forcing them to open the shutters and menyelak heart and victory. The villages, sleeping in peace and quiet on the shoulders of the valley, wake up, the bells-tinkling bells filled the air as the first call to prayer. And from the caves, echoes are also buzzing, as if the whole universe was praying together with khusyuknya. The calves had been out of his cage, sheep and goats leave the ward to reap the dewy grass and flashing light. The shepherd followed after watching her behind lelalang. Behind again the girls sing like birds greet the morning.
Now daylight mighty hand lay over the city. The curtains have diselak of the window and the door opened. The eyes are tired and listless face the tailors had been prepared in the workplace. They tasted death has been encroaching on their lives, and the ripple face withered mempamerkan fear and frustration. On the streets crowded with souls greed and haste, and everywhere sounded the whistle of iron, centrifugal wheel and the whistling of the wind. The city has become a battleground where the strong oppress the weak and the rich exploit and dominate the poor.
How beautiful life, my love, like a poet hearts filled with light and tenderness.
And how hard this life, my love, like a villain chest, pounding because it always feels confused and scared.