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Dites la vérité, aussi amère à dire soit-elle. Dis: Je crois en DIEU. Ensuite observe la
droiture. Dites du bien vous gagnerez et taisez le mal et vous en serez saufs. Nul ne
prévaut sur quelqu‟ un d‟autre que par la foi et l‟œuvre pie. N‟a pas de fois qui
n‟est pas digne de foi et n‟a pas de piété qui ne respecte pas son pacte. Nul d‟ entre
vous ne peut prétendre à la foi jusqu‟ à ce qu‟il aime pour son frère ce qu‟il aime
pour sa propre personne.
Chokri Omri
Said by Imam Shafi (rahimaho ALLAH)
December 6, 2010 at 18:01
“All humans are dead except those who have knowledge; and all those who have
knowledge are asleep, except those who do good deeds; and those who do good
deeds are deceived, except those who are sincere; and those who are sincere are
always in a state of worry.” [said by Imam Shafi (rahimaho ALLAH).
Waleed Khaldi I loved this so much !! thanks dear Chokri
December 11, 2010 at 17:05
Once Upon a Time
December 4, 2010 at 19:18
Once upon a time, son,
they used to laugh with their hearts
and laugh with their eyes:
but now they only laugh with their teeth,
while their ice-block-cold eyes
search behind my shadow.
There was a time indeed
they used to shake hands with their hearts:
but that‟s gone, son.
Now they shake hands without hearts:
while their left hands search
my empty pockets.
„Feel at home‟! „Come again‟:
they say, and when I come
again and feel
at home, once, twice,
there will be no thrice –
for then I find doors shut on me.
So I have learned many things, son.
I have learned to wear many faces
like dresses – homeface,
officeface, streetface, hostface,
cocktailface, with all their conforming smiles
like a fixed portrait smile.
And I have learned too
to laugh with only my teeth
and shake hands without my heart.
I have also learned to say, „Goodbye‟,
when I mean „Good-riddance‟;
to say „Glad to meet you‟,
without being glad; and to say „It‟s been
nice talking to you‟, after being bored.
But believe me, son.
I want to be
what I used to be
when I was like you. I want
to unlearn all these muting things.
Most of all, I want to relearn
how to laugh, for my laugh in the mirror
shows only my teeth like a snake‟s bare fangs!
So show me, son,
how to laugh; show me how
I used to laugh and smile
once upon a time when I was like you.
By GABRIEL OKARA a Nigerian Poet
My friends
November 4, 2010 at 0:12
“Oh my friends, there is no such thing as friends” and “One must be very careful
these days” but then wait, there is this to be said, my friends, and done despite what
has been said but never done; « Let there be no purpose in friendship save the
deepening of the spirit” yet how? Because I always seek the how and abjure the why
and when it comes to when or where, I say come on! For “to whom should I speak,
for whom should I speak, when there is no need to speak?” Friends become friends;
Oh yes, and when winter comes, with rain and wind, we plead and pray to know
that, because the meadows are there, the rainbows are there, flowers, daffodils,
lilacs and roses are still there, every growing seed of life will make Spring because it
is not far behind but definitly ahead.
Chokri Omri
Tunis, le 03/11/2010
Mariem Dearwish Breath-taking dear friend!! I adore your writings!! :-))) God bless
you!!!!!
November 4, 2010 at 0:42
Chokri Omri God bless you too dear Meriem !! Thank you for your sweet feelings !!
November 4, 2010 at 0:45
Apri Yanti ALLAH BLESS U WIT HIS LOVS....
i like that's words...!!!
November 4, 2010 at 8:51
Fussy Glacée so sensitive, very well expressed and deeply felt
u don't mind stealing ur intellectual property bro, do u?? ;)
I share :p
November 4, 2010 at 12:09
Chokri Omri :) Wafa: I don't mind !!
November 4, 2010 at 17:55
Intissar Maaoui ."..SAVE the deepening of the spirit"yet how?WONDERFUL Chokri
and deeeeply touching;thank u
November 4, 2010 at 18:51
Chokri Omri Intissar, you are welcome !!
November 5, 2010 at 18:58
Ammar Jaballi "Timelessness" yes it is it and again "purposlessness". friendship should
gravitate between these two spheres. isn't it?
November 30, 2010 at 16:51
in time of daffodils, lilacs and roses
October 30, 2010 at 21:40
in time of daffodils(who know
the goal of living is to grow)
forgetting why,remember how
in time of lilacs who proclaim
the aim of waking is to dream,
remember so(forgetting seem)
in time of roses(who amaze
our now and here with paradise)
forgetting if,remember yes
in time of all sweet things beyond
whatever mind may comprehend,
remember seek(forgetting find)
and in a mystery to be
(when time from time shall set us free)
forgetting me,remember me
Hasan Abu Khalil "whatever mind may comprehend".....
October 31, 2010 at 13:28
Chokri Omri "beyond whatever mind may comprehend" :)
October 31, 2010 at 14:43
Chokri Omri Spring
Spring is like a perhaps hand
(which comes carefully
out of Nowhere)arranging
a window,into which people look(while
people stare
arranging and changing placing
carefully there a strange
thing and a known thing here)and
changing everything carefully
spring is like a perhaps
Hand in a window
(carefully to
and fro moving New and
Old things,while
people stare carefully
moving a perhaps
fraction offlowerhere placing
an inch of air there)and
without breaking anything
October 31, 2010 at 14:48
Ali Jemai Remember me !
Remember you !
Remember the days
You and I
Made them clear
When a grey hope
Was folding a sky;
Made them free
Cause you 'nd I
Kept the promise
Between you and me.
Remember you!
Remember me !
let old memory cry
deep into my life
let it pray
sing and play
"Oh! old memory
remember me"
( 'm just teasing u friend coz ur poems 'r inspiring)
October 31, 2010 at 20:52
Chokri Omri And what a sweet teasing, amigo !!
October 31, 2010 at 21:19
Ali Jemai u seeee !!
October 31, 2010 at 21:23
Ode to Love and Beauty
October 20, 2010 at 17:43
Having said what I said,
Having done what I did,
I will never keep my head
short of spirit or down with regret.
Alone in my agony, alone in
my dynasty, I will stand still
and dig and have things to hammer out.
Shall I stop? Shall I thus wait and weep?
I weep but not at this time
in this place when my words
have turned without sense
without platform to feel pride
and swing aimlessly like birds.
O brothers and sisters of shared
Love and Beauty, keep working
keep living keep soaring in silence.
Chokri Omri
Tunis, le 20, 10, 2010.
Hasan Abu Khalil "Keep soaring in silence".... so touching Chokri...
October 20, 2010 at 17:45
Chokri Omri Thank you man !! I hope you are fine !!
October 20, 2010 at 17:47
Hasan Abu Khalil I hope so too :)... thanks for asking anyway
October 20, 2010 at 17:48
Liz Contant Nicholls Wise words!
October 20, 2010 at 20:43
Chokri Omri Thank you dearly Mrs Liz. I am happy with your friendship which has
already had something to add to me !!
October 20, 2010 at 22:04
Liz Contant Nicholls I guess you had a good English teacher !!.. and i'm just Liz, not Mrs
Liz, even if I am a Mrs (or, rather, une madame !!!)
October 20, 2010 at 22:32
Chokri Omri Understood Liz !! Lazhar Bouazzi is indeed a good English teacher !! I
have had the honour of being one of his students for two years of knowledge, wisdom
and freedom !! His ideas are those of a philosopher and thinker !! But, now, allow me, if
you please, to ask you a question: What is wrong with calling you Mrs Liz? I find it, by
way of respect, rather, a proper way of addressing someone who is older than me !!
October 21, 2010 at 1:02
Waleed Khaldi wonderful poetic talent, good brother! carry on..
December 11, 2010 at 17:08
The other day ك ف م رل ال
October 17, 2010 at 14:01
but the other
day i was passing a certain
gate,
rain
fell(as it will
in spring)
ropes
of silver gliding from sunny
thunder into freshness
as if god'sflowerswere
pulling upon bells of
gold
i looked
up
and
thought to myself
Death
and will You with
elaboratefingerspossibly touch
the pink hollyhock existence whose
pansy eyes look from morning till
night into the street
unchangingly
the always
old lady always sitting in her
gentle window like
a reminiscence
partaken
softly
at whose gate smile
always the chosen
flowers of reminding
م ك ال رل ف
ك رل ف ش أ غ
د هاسا هي م ك ال
ح ها، ات ت
ط غاق ذ
ؼل ف ع لوا ث وطش )ه ال
غ( شت ال ف
ال ثا د
عذاب هي أذ ضح ذ ف هي ال
ح ؼزت ا ال و ال صل إل ر شوظ ل ه
د ا ذ ك ق اس اإلل أى أص وا ل ك
عا هي ذق أجشا ذ
ة ز ال
ا ظشخ ػال
غ ف لد ف ق
ا هخ
ك ل أ
قح أى غ اث صات أ رشبت ق ذ
لجد ر قذط ل و ضا ال ج ال هي ال
ثخ إل ص رش هي ال ام ل ر ال ذ ى ال ؼ ال
شاسع زا ال ف ذج ال
ل ثذ وا ذ د
ز وا دائ
شب لظ دها ق ج ؼجص ذ ذج ال غ ال
ثل لح ه جو ا ال زذ اف
ش رك
عود ذ س ق
ؼهح ت
غاهح ر ا ات ر ات ؼث هي ت ث ذ
رخة هي وا ا وح ل دائ
ش رزك س ال ص
Translated by Chokri Omri
Sameh Feddaoui go ahead chokri u're amasing
October 20, 2010 at 14:45
Chokri Omri Thank you Sameh !! This is very kind of you !!
October 20, 2010 at 15:52
Fussy Glacée i think that the "always old lady" means that in the poet's memory she's
always been old (never younger) in addition to the fact that she's been always sitting
there as in ur translation if u c what i mean bro. otherwise, thx ^^ as lovely as is ١
ػ١
October 21, 2010 at 17:48
Chokri Omri Can you explain it a little bit more Wafa? You are making a very powerful
statement !! Thank you so much !!
October 21, 2010 at 20:30
Fussy Glacée it's just that u missed a word translation in the original (get back to the
english text and u'll find an "always" that has been skipped)
October 21, 2010 at 20:35
Chokri Omri the always
old lady always sitting in her
gentle window
خ ىحث
٤يس ؼـ ح ٢ ح ـ خ ط د ى ه
خ ط خك ش ٤ ـ ح
This is the text and its translation !! I do not see anything missed !!
October 21, 2010 at 20:39
Fussy Glacée i think that the first always modifies the adj "old" not the whole clause
meaning that the lady has forever been old as far as the speaker is concerned, unlike in
the arabic translation which suggests that the lady has always been sitting there.
October 21, 2010 at 20:44
Chokri Omri Yes, I must agree with you Wafa !! So, how do you propose the Arabic
version to read?
October 21, 2010 at 20:51
Fussy Glacée inbox
October 21, 2010 at 23:15
طاء األخ ع ف ق ثاب ال ع أ
October 16, 2010 at 17:29
طخء : ٢ حأله ع ك ه زخد ح الس : 1 -أ ز ح ء. -حال ه زخؽ ح ػي ا
خ. -2 ٤ش أىحث ل ٤ ـ ر ح
خ. -3 ٠خث ش ػ ك ل ـ ح
ال ػ. -4 ٤ض ر ز ٢ ح الس ك ح
ؼ -5 ي ر ؿي ػ ح ٣ ء، ى ح يح. ط ٢ ح طالد ك ح
الس. -6 خد ٢ ح حع ك حإل
ـي. -7 ٤ش ح ل خ ط ا
خ. -8 ـ ر ي ح ش ػ ز و زلغ ػ ح ٢ ح خى ك ظ ػي حالؿ
الس. -9 ي ح ٤ش ػ خ لع ر ظ ح
خ -10 خ هللا أىح خ خ: أه ٤ ٤ ػ ح ال ى خ هلل –أه ظ٣ ي. –ح ي٣ ٤ ٣ ٢ ر ك ه أك ح
الس.ح -11 ظس وخ ٢ حط ٤ ك و ط
خض. -12 ٠ ح ؼ ػ ـح أ ػي اؿالم ح
13- . وؽ ـي ح يػخء ىه ح ٤خ ر ػي حإلط
٤خ. -14 ي ح ٢ أ غ ك لي٣ يػخء ح ح خ ش ر خ ٤ حألح حإله ض ر ه ش ػ ػخس ح ل ـ ح
ش -15 خ ٤ حألح حإله وآ ر وحءس ح ص ر غ ح ك ٤ ٤ ؿ زذ اػخؽ خ ٣
. يػ ر وآ أ ٣ وأ ح ٣
لو. -16 ح ظ خ ٣ ٤ ح ه ز ٤ق غ ٢ ح ش ك لخك ٤خد ؼ الس ر ح
٠خء كخؿش. -17 ػي أ ه ـ ر زخ الس ح ٢ ح يه ك ح
18- .٤ ػؾ ح خ ٣ يهخ لش ح حث الس ر ٢ ح يه ك ح
19- ٢ الس ك هخف.ح ٤ خ ك
الس : 02 ح ٢ خ. -ك ظ٣ خ ش ر خ٣ ؼ ػي ح
لف. -21 ش ح ٣ ػي ط
ح. -22 ٤س حإلك ز ي ط ػ ٤ي٣ غ ح ػي ك
غ. -23 ٣ ظ ش ح ظخف حكي, ح ل ظ ٠ ىػخء ح ش ػ يح ح
24- . خ ٤خ غ أ و ٢ ح لش ك لخط حءس ح خ ه ا
25- ٠ ػ ٤ي٣ غ ح ي. ٠ ح خ ػ ؼ ش س؛ ح ح
.حالس هق حق لىح رال ػ -26
خ. -27 وحءس حأل خ خ ر ي ح ل٣ ػي ط
ز. -28 ط ح ز " زخ ؿغ " زخ " أ " أ ٤ ز " ك لع " أ ي
الس. -29 ٢ ح ؼخإد ك ظ ظ ح ػي
ي -30 ٠ش ر ل٣ الس ح ٤خ و ٢ ح خء ك زذ.حالط
يء. -31 ش ح ٤ طؤ حؿذ ح الس ح ٢ أىحء ح حع ك حإل
الس. -32 ٢ ح خ ك ٤ أ أكي ل ظ ق ح
الس. -33 ٢ ح ك ٤ي٣ ٤ي ح ز ط
ؼي : ع ر ٢ ح ك
ع. -34 ٢ ح ك ظ ظحء ح ػي ح
ع. -35 ٢ ح ٤ ك ؼ خء ح ل حال
أل -36 لؿش ح زش ٠ ح ٤ي ػ غ ح غ.ػي خر
٠ ىػخء حكي. -37 ش ػ يح ـى ح ع ح ٢ ح ٤ش ك غ حألىػ ٣ ػي ط
38- . ذ أ حأل غ ك ح ك حد أ ط يػخء ح جش ح ٤ ؼ ع ؼي ح ر ٤ي٣ غ ح ك
ع. -39 غ ح ك ؼي ح " ر خىس " ح ٣
ـى : ٢ ح ك
ـى. 14 -40 ٢ ح يػخء ك خ ح ٤ -ا ـى.ػي ط ٢ ح ق ك ش حأل ز ـ ح
ـى. -42 ٢ ح ٤ ك حػ ٢ ح ر
ـح. -43 ن ر ٠خ٣ ظ٠ ٣ ـى ك ٢ ح ٢ ك ظـخك ٢ ح ـش ك زخ ح
أل. -44 خ ظ و حد ؿد ال ـى , ح ٢ ح وش حأل ك ٤ ػ ال وي غ ح ك
ش. -45 ز و ٤ وي ح ٤ي٣ غ ح خر ٤ أ١حف أ ؿ ػي ط
ظق -46 وخى ح ظ ٢ حػ حء ك خ حد أ أس, ح ـى ح ؿ ػ ـى ح لش ٤ ن ر ٣
ي ػ : 74 ـغ ر ٤ ح ظؤه لش. ح ي. -ح ٤ق ز زذ ٣ ي ٤ ر الط ٤ ح ـغ ر ح
48- . ؼذ أ أ خ ر ظ خ ػ ه ٤ ؤه ط
الس. -49 ؼي ح ظ٢ ر خ ح خ حأل ا
الس. -50 ؼي ح ـخػ٢ ر يػخء ح ح
الس.ح -51 ؼي ح لش ر خك ٤خى ح ظ ػ
٠ش. -52 ل٣ الس ح ؼي ح يػخء ر ح
خ. -53 حف حإل ز ح ـي ه ؤ ح هؽ ح
خص : له ظ
زس. 55 -54 و ٢ ح ٠ش ك ل٣ الس ح ز. - ٤ ه ـي ك ٢ الس ك ح
56- .٢ خ ح خ أ ػي ى ح
ظ٢ -57 ؼ ح خء ح ـخػش أػ الس غ ح ػ٢.ػي ح زذ ٢ اال ك
ي. -58 ٢ و ك ل ظ ػي ح ٣ الس ح ٤ش ل ٤ ـ ر ح
.رؼ ح٠ ٣ظى حالس حػظوخىح رـح ي -59
خس. -60 ٤ ١ ٠ ؿ ػ ؤ ر ٤ و أ ٣ ث وخ ظ ي ح ػ الط خ ٣ ؼ ح ر
ل٢ أ -61 ٣ حد أ خ ح ٤ ـي ػ ٤ خىس غ ح ك ٠ ٣ ؼ ح . ر أ ت ر ٣
ـى -62 ٢ و ك خ ٣ و ٣ حد أ , ح ـى ح ٢ خى ىػخء ليى ك وخى أ ظ حػ
الس. ح
63- . خ ح ٤ ـى.. ؿ ش ح , ا١خ ٤ي٣ غ ح خ, ك ز حى ه خ: ح الس؛ ح خ ا
64- . و ٤ و ل ٠ ط يس ػ ـخ ع ػي ح و ؼق ح
ال -65 ٢ ح لخص ك ظ س.حال
66- .٤ ٤ش ح و ئ١ ر خ ٣ الس ٢ ح وآ ك ٤ش ح خألىػ ص ر غ ح ك
خ. -67 حد كك ٤ ح ي حأله ظ ٢ ح خ لي " ك ٤ي خىس " ٣
الس. -68 ٢ ح خ ك وش حإل خر
خ. -69 ظؤه ػ حإل ح
ي -70 ع, ػ ي ح ح, ػ ٤س حإلك ز ي ط غ: ػ ك غ ح ٢ ح ك ٤ي٣ غ ح ى ك غ ط ك ح
. ي حأل ظ غ ح ك ي ح , ػ
71- جش ٣ ٤ ٢ أ١ يه ؼ ك ش ح و ح ظ٠ ٣ ظظ ك خؿي ٣ ٠ اح ىه حإلخ ؼ ر
خ. خ حإل ٤ ك
الس. -72 ٢ ح ٠ ك ألػ ظ ح
73- .٤ ٤ ؼ ٤ ح ـ ط
الس. -74 ش ىحه ح ل زغ ح ؼ ؼس ح
الس : ؤ ح ٢ ق ك غ ال ط أكخى٣
ؽح ص١أ حا ) - .[ 332 / 1 ] سف١عح سح . ( ىؽح ١ف حا ىؽح حؽ سح ح ) -
ـخغ [905]. ٤ق ح ؼ خ ) . خإل٣ ر يح خ خؿي ك ظخى ح ؼ ٣
.[5571] عحؽح ف١ع . ( ١ةحح مفد ىأأ ١ا ح :ىؽ دحح ءحعى ) -
ـخغ [0824 ]. فح ىؽحح ى ) - ٤ق ح ؼ . ( ٤ ؼ ح
.١دمح حعؽ١ أ ١ى ١ف حمف١ أ ١د أأ :هظخخ
٢ ك خ ٠ش: خ خ ح ٤ل ؼي ظ ٢ ـ ك
Today's Beautiful Hadith is about Backbiting
October 9, 2010 at 18:58
Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him) said :”Do you know what backbiting is?”
They said, “God and His Messenger know best.” He then said, “It is to say
something about your brother that he would dislike.” Someone asked him, “But
what if what I say is true?” The Messenger of God said, “If what you say about him
is true, you are backbiting him, but if it is not true then you have slandered him.”
A WOMAN AT FORLORN
BY CHOKRI OMRI
October 3, 2010 at 19:05
When winter came, she was at forlorn. The rain was slacking heavily outside.
The sun seemed to have long been out from behind the clouds. It was so cold,
chilly and bitter but every now and then, the sun was attempting to come
through. People, save the villagers and some farmers, would take winter for the
cruellest of all seasons when they saw the rain and therefore start exclaiming on
spring. Winter was not always cruel. Sometimes, it was nice and would therefore
take its things and pack them hastily and withdraw for the sake of sunny days.
Spring, regretfully and oddly enough, was not as nice as winter because it would
quickly take its things and leave then enough room for rainy days. Time was
creeping up without stopping. People were never aware of anything but the
absence of happy days. There were only wintry cold days. Perhaps there is no
such thing as happy days. Perhaps it is a mere invention fabricated and
ornamented by the devil. The white devil. Nevertheless, they would spend many
a day looking for happiness but nowhere it is to be found. Happiness is not
something that we can seek. It is a result; a by-product. Now they work, now
they talk; now they hope; now they curse; now they pray, yet notice came to no
one that she was at forlorn.Her name was not so fortelling compared to theirs.
She did not have, however, the slightest need to worry about it so long as it did
not pertain to her in the first place and so long as it was imposed on her from the
very first day she ever stepped into the threshold of life. She knew like many
people that to err is human but to forgive is divine. She took then no trouble in
erring and kept on erring until she became at forlorn while forgetting what is
divine. She did not know that knowing things is not enough for her. It is never
sufficient to know that to err is human. To err is also enough for cowardice. To
forgive is also human but not enough when erring is becoming a style of life.
Time is waning away carrying with it deficiency, imperfection and
inconvenience. Still, no one saw that she was at forlorn. Sometimes, she gave the
image of being completely at home with it. She looked as though she was made
up and her life set up for the like of it. Some other times, she would stop and a
few tears would come down her cheeks. No body knew yet that she was at
forlorn.She was a girl first like many other girls. Only that she was slightly
different by being of a good nature now matter how often she would
outlandishly strive to hide it. There are things we cannot hide. She did not know
that. They speak for themselves without our knowing of them. But that she was
at forlorn is still what no one ever took notice of let alone to grab hold of. When
she would smile, she would not only smile. She would cause everything to smile
with her. When she would speak, she would not only speak. She would cause
every one to hush in order to listen to her. But when she would weep, she would
not only weep, she would weep more than she would afford to weep. Yet, no
body had ever wept with her. This is not beyond comprehension. She was at
forlorn and no body knew of that.By nature, people are the most vindictive and
pretentious of all creatures. They contrive in making others believe they are not
so and that they are nice and otherwise than that but, in truth, they are the most
vindictive and pretentious to have ever walked on earth. Whoever said that the
circumstances made them so was at the same time catering for his coming
downfall. When this is kept in mind, no one will make the mistake of putting
faith in them. This woman, it cannot be helped, is not by way of exception
excluded from this, but she was neither vindictive nor pretentious like them. She
was just the way she was and this is perhaps why, as it were, she never found a
way out of being at forlorn. She made no strides then in the human enterprise of
chicanery and hypocrisy. Flowers like her were not capable of bearing up the
oppressing wind. Let alone to stand up and why not out alone against it.O wind,
if winter comes, can spring be far behind? Where is a spring without
flowers?How was it like when she felt the need so acute to make them believe she
was not what she was in order to live? No body around her seemed to know that
she was not for misdeeds. She was not at all for misdeeds. She was not made for
such things. They were scoffing at her toppling. They were saying many things
against her. They liked her audacity in everything and then disliked its
rendering. What if she was pretentious? She was portentous but never
pretentious. One would have to wait till she was alone in order to know that she
was by every means different. But she never tried to look for a way of escaping.
She preferred to stand alone and face the truth of everything by practicing not
limping. Consequently, she ended up by being at forlorn.
-Mum, can I go outside for tonight?
-What for dear Catherine?
-Please mother, I want to go out and this is it. Why do you keep answering me with
questions?
-People want to go outside for one reason or another. I want to know that.
-Then I won‟t tell you because I‟m not like them.
Catherine did not like to let her mother know the reason behind her trip she
planned with the other girls. She did not want to worry her about that. For her, how
life was so manageable when she feels she has nothing to lose except her shackles!
For her, experience was so exorbitant. She would move through it any way.
-Dear, can‟t you see it‟s raining outside? You will get sick afterwards. There is no
going out for tonight.
What good will it be to me to go out when it is raining? Catherine wondered while
looking out at the heavy rain falling down across from the window. The streets were
muddy and sloped steeply and the rain kept on falling without stopping. No body
seemed to be walking outside except perhaps that beggar Catherine saw from afar.
Tears run down her lump cheeks and she made no effort to prevent them from
smothering her eyes. He must be shivering with cold this poor man. She told herself.
Why can‟t he run and seek a dry place? He will die, God save him please. But why
can‟t he move? He is probably waiting for God to save him. Catherine gazed at him
scornfully. The stupid, he does not know he has got to move without calling for help.
No body would come to his help. The devil in person would not help him at this very
time of frost. If he would, then it must be for some new trouble and agony. The devil
in person is now in trouble looking for a dry place for itself. It does not have enough
time to make his evil plans in the rain. But since when, Catherine can only wonder,
does the devil come to the assistance of its victims? Since when does he care for their
safety and warmth? Can it be true that this beggar is overtaken by the devil? This is
why he is a beggar, she said. People are sitting by fire warming themselves while
pitying his kind with words. Ils parlent tous de lui, le soir, autour du feu; Ils parlent
tous de lui, mais aucun ne pense à lui. May be he is insane. The insane are
exceedingly unhappy. Otherwise, they would not turn insane. But this poor man.
What has he done to have been chattered like that? May be he is fated and destined
to be a beggar. May be he was not able to speak. He must have always been
suffering in silence. When people do not find the capacity to speak, they beg. This is
why this man is a beggar but not a successful one I should say. Only the hypocrites
are successful beggars. They fail in the end. Catherine said. I wonder if he left a
family behind him. People call him a beggar and a poor man. They probably don‟t
know why he is a beggar and a poor man. But he is undoubtedly one. One day, he
will leave this nice world. He won‟t regret that. He won‟t mind that. He must have
been famished by now. May be he hasn‟t eaten for two or three days now. May be
he hasn‟t eaten since he hasn‟t eaten since as it has once been stated. He doesn‟t
seem to be capable of making one step after the other. His legs will carry him
nowhere. What if it should start snowing now? He will perish the poor and in no
time. How many beggars are there like him? What are they doing now that it is
raining and drumming on the roofs?
-Catherine.
Her mother was calling.
-yes, mum. What is up? Or is it down?
-Catherine, your father is still outside and it is getting worse and dark tonight. Why
doesn‟t he come?
- Mum, can you see that beggar in the street? He will die the poor. It is horrible. Are
there no people to feel for him? He won‟t forgive us, mum, will he?
-He has got the lord to save him, Catherine. I‟m starting to be afraid now. Your
father has not come yet and it is turning so badly.
- Are they asking about him this poor beggar? I will go and ask him to come up with
me.
- Catherine, have you gone crazy? What will your father say when he sees him at
home?
- I‟m not crazy. If he stays outside much longer, he will get frozen. Can‟t you see he
can‟t stir any more? I‟m going mum.
Catherine quickly get dressed and took an old coat with her in order to cover the
beggar. The rain did not stop. It was a very cold night. Catherine crossed the street
and immediately went to the beggar and covered him with the coat. Her mother,
seeing this, started to weep. She uttered one or two prayers for Catherine. She is
now the girl she always prayed for and hankered after. Her father will be so proud
of her. May the lord keep her out of harm‟s way. She is like an angel. I wonder
where she wanted to go this night.
The beggar, having felt the warmth he never felt before, looked at Catherine and
tried to say something but nothing but whispering managed to come out of his
mouth. His hands were frozen. He could not even get them into the coat‟s pockets.
Catherine smiled through her tears and told him to come along with her so as to get
some fire. The poor man refused to stir. He could not go any further. What would
she do now? She could not go and leave him like that. He would perish.
-Are you hungry? Speak please. Do you want me to get you some food?
The beggar looked at her without uttering one single word. He was not even capable
of making signs. Catherine was astounded when she suddenly saw that the poor
man was so gentle and young. She wondered what sort of disgrace had taken
possess of him. People of his age would not allow themselves to be reduced to such a
heart breaking dispensation. It was not at all within the prospect of belief for
Catherine to accept to even see him like that.
-Are you parched? The rain water is fresh and can be of help to you. What makes
you go outside at this very time of frost?
Again, the beggar did not utter a word. Something like an intuition soon caused
Catherine to believe that this beggar is not a beggar. He seems to be unaware of his
present condition. He seems to have long opted for this condition. But then,
something like another intuition soon paved the way for Catherine to realize that
this beggar does not even feel like wanting her to be beside him in the rain. May be
he is the one who is pitying her. May be he is the one who is pitying them those who
are sitting by fire and talking about him.
-Are you a stranger, an outsider? Speak please. I can‟t bear it up any more.
Catherine was sobbing and tears were brimming in her eyes till they choked her.
Nevertheless, the beggar was still numb and he did not give any air of wanting to
respond. All he could, Catherine ended up by giving in to it, was simply to look at
her unconsciously. The rain continued to fall in gusts. Catherine was determined to
know after believing more than she could afford that this man is not to be a beggar.
She pondered that no matter how heavy the rain is and will be, she will be patient
and she will resist till she knows the truth of this man. Her father must have come
back home by now and she cared less for that. He will be inquiring after her and she
cared lesser for that. He will frown at her mother for having permitted her to go
alone outside at night and yet she cared lesser and lesser for that. What if he joins
her into straining to know why is it that this beggar is refusing to be saved? What if
he comes up unexpectedly? What if he comes forward and finds out the extent of
soreness and pain Catherine and this beggar are moving through under the rain?
Catherine was overwhelmingly convinced that her father will not possibly make
such a terrible mistake. He must have been by fire by now. He is not strong enough
to put up with his work and his family. Domesticity is for him a matter of natural
conduct. Should there be something wrong in the family; domesticity is still for him
a matter of natural conduct. Should there be something at stake and under the
threat of danger; domesticity is a matter of natural conduct. Catherine was guessing
all the time the fact that this is exactly what they mean by natural upbringing.
Parents strongly want their children to be something similar to them and they call it
natural upbringing. If children happen to be very badly brought up and take to
rebuff to the extent of disobedience, then it is the outcome of the so-called natural
upbringing. Catherine was even about to guess that the term natural upbringing is
self-contradictory when the beggar, by way of impatience surely, started to breathe
unnaturally. Catherine felt the descending shroud of terror and fear. What if he
dies? Why does he want to die this way under no shelter? He must be at an end the
poor. Despite his age that is one characterized by the prominent resistance to death,
this young poor man is lending himself to it being even resistant to the reverse of it.
No wonder he is exceedingly miserable and unhappy. No wonder he is extremely sad
and despondent. Nonetheless, he appears to be natural in his condition. He refuses
to be saved or fetched for the simple and obvious reason that he hates people to
boast about his being saved by them and thanks to them when he is saved.
Catherine strove in vain to see what is unnatural about him till he fell completely
into faint and no airing no breathing is to be heard out of him… Catherine
retreated back in terror and started to scream in helplessness and sadness. Mother,
please, where are you? Mother, please, come. Mother, please, I need your help…
Father, please, he is dying.
Never has she felt so disappointed like that when nobody whatever took the
initiative and ventured to join her into helping this man and preventing him from
giving himself to death under the heavy rain. Catherine continued to cry and
scream until her voice failed her that her tears stood against its sounding with fury.
Thus, she rushed to the man and covered him and pressed him so tightly against her
while weeping and weeping. She pressed him so tightly and wanted to die with him.
It would be better than to leave him alone suffering and come back to sit by fire.
Catherine wept and sobbed for some time while pressing him against her until she
felt his heart beat again. She could not believe that. No, she could not believe that.
May be she was mistaken in her heart so that instead of feeling hers, felt his… She
held the man tight to her body and soul stronger than before but no beating of his
heart could be felt. Besides, it is as though the skies were weeping along with
Catherine because the rain never stopped for one single moment. What was even
worse was that the sound of a storm could now be heard and no beating of his heart
Catherine could feel. The wind was blowing fiercely and the sound of it is boding
with a storm that Catherine thought would hear of no abating. She never
relinquished him. Let the rain fall and go on pouring even. Let the wind blow and
go on blowing. Let the storm worsen and go on worsening. Let people sit by fire and
go on sitting by fire. Catherine would never relinquish this man. He must be dead.
He is so cold. Catherine touched his hands. They were paralyzed. She put her head
against his chest trying to consider and examine and see if there is any beating… He
must be dead.
No sooner did the storm abate, no sooner did the rain stop, no sooner did the
daylight establish itself in the place of darkness, and then the streets grew crowded
with people. No sooner were Catherine and the poor gentleman seen, children
hurried and dashed to them. Men and Women were passing and wondering and
saying things about Catherine and The beggar but in passing as they had always
done when they chance to witness a similar scene. For them, it is undoubtedly a
comic scene instead of being a tragic one. It is a comic scene because as Man (and
Woman as well) sows, so shall he or she reap. A comic scene generative of laughter
for them because Catherine and the beggar are now moaning for the harvest they
have reapt. May be they were caught committing one of the cardinal sins. So they
died in the rain as a sorte of punishment. Perhaps they were killed by the police and
thrown away in the street for every one to see and learn the lesson. Or probably,
why? It is very probable that they passed away because they had not tried at least to
cover their shame and instead they were trumpeting it in the rain. So they died. It
was always said that a man (and woman of course!) never goes around trumpeting
his or her shame. But here can anything be made of the shame Catherine and the
beggar had been moving through at night? God never forgive those who are
trumpeting their shame. If only they tried a little bit to hide themselves so that
people would not come across them and take them for the principal cause of the
absence of happy days. If only they tried a little bit to call for help when they were
about to die so that people would come to their rescue no matter what kind of
shame or cardinal sin they had undergone or committed. People would not mind
forgiving them for that provided that they do it in secret not in the street and what
is more at night. But then, what makes a girl like Catherine go at night to meet a
man like this beggar and then die in this manner in the street? Perhaps they were
ashamed of their deed and consequently found nothing and no body to resort to in
the middle of a storm so railing and embracing the night before. They should have
waited for a better prospect of place and time.
Children, having approached the two lovers, became filled with fear and started to
yell and shout and run here and there like people confronting the oppressing armed
forces. It was only at that moment when pedestrians realized the critical situation
and began to be aware of what a man and woman have made of themselves. More
and more folks gathered around the victims and the noise started. No less than
three ladies and one old man, when casting sight on Catherine and the beggar,
found quickest access to and lapsed into unconsciousness. The wail of ambulance
sirens was heard and the medical crew stepped down as soon as the ambulance
stopped. They elbowed their ways with difficulty in the incredible crowd of people.
The police alarms went off and every one recognized then what a man and woman
have made of themselves. The scene, to the greatest disappointment of many a man
and woman, did not prove to be comic. It did not even prove to be tragic. It was real
and this is how it was.
Have we not reason to lament what Catherine and the poor young gentle man have
made of themselves? We have and there is as a matter of fact more to Catherine and
the poor young gentle man than what the pen has written or could still write. To
lament the loss of something requires no more than awareness. To lament the loss of
somebody requires no more than acting and make belief. Here, the case is awfully
different. Here, to lament requires no less than madness. Madness of the type of
King Lear‟s. To lament, faced with this case, presents the human savagery in its
most disgusting form. Nobody must be allowed to cry and display his or her
weakness and misery. Catherine‟s mother herself must not be permitted to shed
tears over the loss of her daughter. She is more than welcome to watch over her self
and go on waiting for her husband day and night. She is more than welcome to pray
for her daughter and wonder where she wanted to go last night. As for her husband,
the most open-minded and affluent merchant of the city, he needs to develop his
ideas and sharpen his arguments about domesticity and harnesses further what he
takes to be natural upbringing by means of communication. He is now in perfect
position to illustrate his conduct and point out to the loss of his daughter as an
outstanding example sustaining his theory of domesticity. A framework of reference
is now made accessible by the way.
What does it mean to lament? Or to say it differently, what meaning does human
lamentation offer? There is, in fact, far more and more to lamentation than the poor
meaning it offers.All any one can say is without sense when silence makes sense.
These words are far from expressing what silence could express…
Schizophrenia is but one psychological aspect characterizing the one who laments
over the loss of somebody or something… When the victims, the story intervenes,
were carried to the central hospital of the city in almost no time, time was not
important. There was no cause for anxiety and fear. The clinical circle coupled with
voluntary medical doctors and assisted with surgeons were to bring Catherine and
her beloved back into life. It was great! By all standards and accounts, it was great!
The two lovers were brought back to life in order to face death more clearly than
ever before.God, the almighty, cure the patients, and the clinical circle takes the fee.
Then, some rumors circulating between men and women imparted the astounding
sad news that one of the three ladies who had happened to see Catherine and the
beggar lying as they were in the street and accordingly lost consciousness over the
scene has died. The clinical circle, it could be said, has spared no effort attempting
to save her but, alas the poor, she passed away. It was a comic scene by every
possible means. Why should it be a tragic one? It was real. Who said that the world
is a comedy to those who think and a tragedy to those who feel? For Catherine, the
world is both a comedy and a tragedy. Why such a vision? It is difficult to answer
such a burning and loaded question. A modest attempt to answer it will be that for
those who feel and think the world is both a tragedy and comedy. Catherine is
sensitive and sensible at the same time. She is far more sensitive and sensible than
what those who live with her not to speak of those who know her could take her to
be. Yet, in spite of it or rather because of it, no body so far has come to the
realization that Catherine was at forlorn. Perhaps she was not. She was herself
unconsciously straying afield of her self by overlooking what is divine. She is
sensitive for those who think they are sensible and sensible for those who feel they
are sensitive. To know the truth. It takes time and it depends.
How happy some people can be when they become happy the moment they are
reduced to sadness because of some loss and when regained they become happy!
How unhappy some other people should be when they become unhappy the moment
they think they have made it thanks to what they think is chance and then when
they fail to keep up with it they become unhappy ! Take death. What is death? Is it
an end? Is it a divine punishment? What is death? Catherine thinks that death is an
end. Whether it is a divine punishment or not, she is not sure of that. She reckons
that death cannot be so because what is divine is divine and therefore what is divine
cannot be cruel so as to penalize people with death. A mere speculation indeed. But
Catherine was on the brink of death when she had been purporting to stand up
against death by attempting to save the poor gentleman. Did she know death when
she was about to die? Catherine never knew death neither now nor when she was on
its verge. She feels that death could not be known because those who are living
know nothing or little of death and those who have died know everything about
death but will never tell us. No body has ever returned from death so as to teach us
some lessons with regard to death. But, should we remind ourselves of the fact that
nothing that is really worth knowing can be taught? A good question waiting for no
good answer.
How happy some over some other can be. It has been said somewhere. This is
painful. Catherine, was she to be called upon to accost this statement, would end up
by saying that, as it were, this is painful indeed. Will it be of sense and sensibility to
ask why such a statement is productive of painful premises?
Today's Beautiful Hadith is about Who To Be Like?
October 3, 2010 at 17:52
Narrated Abu Huraira: Allah's Apostle (peace be upon him) said, "Not to wish to
be the like except of two men. A man whom Allah has given the (knowledge of the)
Qur'an and he recites it during the hours of night and day and the one who wishes
says: If I were given the same as this (man) has been given, I would do what he does,
and a man whom Allah has given wealth and he spends it in the just and right way,
in which case the one who wishes says, 'If I were given the same as he has been
given, I would do what he does.' "
Eyes for Earth and Eden
September 27, 2010 at 20:06
From this sweet Earth we have come
and launched our journey of the living.
We had and could have no time for stopping
and we will go on without thinking,
without knowing until we will truly arrive
at knowing, at thinking, at weeping
and at smiling.
This Earth is ours and our Land is rich.
Tell me please how we are deprived.
No one is born to be made for dying
if we just live life without human mapping.
How can we be too selfish and agonistic
if we love and give without wrapping?
Our eyes shall never be closed
to the Tower of Light and will
forever seek out the Truth
and be guided by every flower.
Chokri Omri
Tunis, le 27- 09- 2010.
O tower of light, sad beauty
that magnified necklaces and statues in the sea,
calcareous eye, insignia of the vast waters, cry
of the mourning petrel, tooth of the sea, wife
of the Oceanian wind, O separate rose
from the long stem of the trampled bush
that the depths, converted into archipelago,
O natural star, green diadem,
alone in your lonesome dynasty,
still unattainable, elusive, desolate
like one drop, like one grape, like the sea.
Pablo Neruda
Fussy Glacée niiiiiice!! heartwarming and lively! so glad to know that sb loves life :)
(why did ya drown this lovely flower in the dark tube?)
October 2, 2010 at 23:15
Chokri Omri The very asking of this question shows that you are an intelligent teacher !!
October 2, 2010 at 23:20
Fussy Glacée :)))) za3ma?
October 2, 2010 at 23:22
هللاػـزسا ـــة ث د
September 21, 2010 at 2:02
ق ػح ن هللا ... ػح أ ٠ ه ٤ذ هللا ... أؿ ز هللا ...ك ٤ي – ل خ ال٣ ظح خ حػ .-ح
ح أ١؟؟؟ كخر ٤ ػ ح ز ؼ ظ ش ح ـش ك٣ ل ر طخ ح ٣ ي ح و ج ٤ ال ٣ أػيحء حإل
ض أ١، ح ٤ ػ ح ز ؼ ظ ش ح ل٣ لــح ر ز ط لـخد ه ؼحم ح ٢ ح ٤ ك خكح ى ح ر
ى٣ ش ح ى ٤ و ٤ ٤ ط ٢ ك ال ك خػح ح حإل ٤ش ...؟ ر وح١ ي٣ خع ػ ح يك ـش ح ل ر
وخ١ ا ٢، ك ـخ خ ح ال خ كن ا ٢ كن ك ل ه يأ، ل ر ال..... ش حإل ؟؟ أ
ال وغ ح ظ ٢ و٢ ك ش ؼر ٤ش ح و ـش ح ل ٤ ر ال ش حال والك خء ح ز ـ ح ل ؼخ ر ظ
٤ ط حء ك و٢ ح حإل ظ خ ك ي٣ ؤ٣ خ ر خ ـ ظ٢ خ ح ٤ آ ظ ظ ،٤ ؼ ظ ح
ق خص.. ه ي (( لي ٣ ٠ ـي حأله ٠ ح ش ا خ٣ يه ـػخص ح ٤ش ط ـخ ح
ؼ ى أ هللا، ؿ خ ز٢ ٣ ٤ ز خ ك ٤ي ٣ ٢ ػ خص ))، ح ق ر خص..ه خص..لي ر
٠ ه ى ط هللا ٤س . وآ ح خ ح ـ خ زذ أ ٤، ح ـ خص خر ػ
خ ؼي ظ خ حر خ ، أل ل ؼ خ ل خ هلل ) ي ( كخ و ه ٣ ٣ ٤ هللا ػ
ؼالء ، لخ ح يس ح خث ٠ خ ػ ؼ ٤ ل ه ر خ، ؾ ٤ ػ ؼظ خ ح آ ر ػ ه
خ ظ ح خ ل ه ظ ل وح ر ٤ ـد ق ٣ ظ ل أػط٠ ح خ ، ظ ٤ ه
ل طش ، خه طش ح خر ٢ ح خ لع حالؿ ٤ل وآ خص ح ٢ آ٣ ل خ ، ك ٤ ٤ش ػ ٣ ظ ح
ش خص . ...أ حه ٤ ح ـ ٤ ح ٢ زلغ ك ال الس ح ٤ ح ػ ٤س ح ى ط
خ خ ٣ لخػش ، ش ح ش لي... أ ال ...أ حإل ٤ق ط ؟؟ خػ ظ ك خح أ ؟؟؟ ك ٤ ء ا
ح هللا )) (( ح ط ل ؤ خ ر ٤ح ـ ظ٠ ٣ و ك خ ر ٤ ـ ز٢ هللا ؟؟؟ (( ح هللا ال٣
وآ و١ ، ػىح ق ح ح و٢ ح ٢ ح خك ال ح ٠ حإل )) ػىح ا يح زض حه ؼ ٣ ٣
٢ ح خ ، ػ لظ خ حك حك خط أح آ٣ حه ٣ ح ح ٤ ..(( أه خط ر خث ز٢ ألر س ح
ؼخ وح ز ١ ي ٢ ال ك ش حإل ٤ ؼح ه )) حك ٠ ح و ػ ط ر ٢ ه ال ك ش حإل ى
لظ، حك ال ك إل ٤ كخ ح ه ، ٤ د ػ ٤خس ح ؾ ك ل ح ال حإل
الس هللا ٤ ز٢ هللا لي ػ ر ظيحث خه زح ػيح هللا ر ط ز٢ .. ٤ ز . ك ال
٢ ر ظىى ك ، ٢ ـخ ال ح ي حإل ي ػ ى٣ ى ػ ي ه ألؿ خ ط هللا.. أحك
ظلن ٤غ ؿيح، ٤ ك ش ح ح خ ظ ٤ ؼظ خ ح ح ى٣ ؼ ٤ ٤ ه ٢ ح ـخ ح
ش ٤خ و ح ظي ٣ لخػ خء هللا – ي . –ح خ ى٣ خى ي ه ٣ ي ح و٠ ؿ
هللا ػح
غــــــــــــــــ م رـــــــــــــ ـــــــــــــــــ أت
September 19, 2010 at 20:16
...٢ ز ٤خ ط ي .. ىع ح ظ ٢ حر ز ال ط ـآ كيع ك
ـــــــــــفح ىع••
ـــــــــ١فح ىع••
ـــــــــــــــححد عح ىع••
ــــــ٢ءــ ى ســـــــ١ح ىع••
ءحــــــــــــ حى سح١فح ــــــــــــ١ص ح حىع••
حــــــــــــــــ١ىح حىحعص حىع••
ظـــــــــــــفح حفحف١ ح حىع••
دــــــــــــــف حـــــــــع مص١ حىع••
ىحثـــــــــخ ••
ــــــــــــ وــــــــــــي حأل ل خكــــــــذ ال•• ـــــــــ ــــــــــ٠ حالك ألكــــــح•• ـــــــــ ظ ـ••
حالــــــــخ
••
وـــــــــــــخء لــــــحم ؼي ح ـش ر ــــــــــ ـش ر ــــــ ىؼـــــــــــ ؼي ٤ـــــــــ ر ــــــــــــــــخح؟؟؟؟؟أ
٤ــــــــــــ ي ٢ ح ـــــــــــ ح ــــــــــخف ك ــــــف ــــــخكــــــ ك ٤ــــــــــخ ل خ أ ٤ ــخػ
ـش ـــــــــ ـش ر ىؼــــــــ
سحـــــــــــــــصدحح سدعد عص عـــــــــىح ع١ مص أ ىــــــــــــــ١ع••
ـشح س١م ىمص دـــــــــــعصص أ ىـــــــــــ١ع•• حكــــــــــــ
فحــــــــــــــؽ ص ف١ى عصص ١ى ــــــــــــــــفص أ ىـــــــــــــ١ع••
ىحـــــــ ىص فمصف ىــــــــــعم ىع••
أ خ ٤جخ رخالــــــــــــــــحى••
حـــــــــــحح ححى عح حـــــــ١ع ىصف••
ـــــــــــخف•• لــــــــــذ ح خ ح خ ــــــــ ػ ط
حــــــــــــــصحح ءحـــــــــىدح حف١ ســــــــــ١عى سح١فح ـــــــــــىح ا••
كظظـــــــــــــ ظل٤ــــــــــــــــــــخ أؿــــــــــــ•• ا ك ػي ؿخ
ــــــــــــــــــــــــ١دف ىىص ا•• وخ ح ؤ ر ــــــــخ حػ ظ ــــــــــذ ك
ىــــــــــــــــفأ ء١ ظصص ح ىــفحؽ ىصف د١م ىفؽ ا••
فؽحـــــــــــــــــــــــــــــــــــــــــــ ىــــأ صدعأ س صـــــــف ا••
ح ا أرظي حي٤خ ٣خ •• ظ ـــــــــــــــــــــــــــــــــــــــــــحس الط ض ىػي ر
ؼ ظ ؼــــــــــــــــــــــــــــق ك
أ ىػي ى٤ـــــــ ػ٠ أي اخ ــــــــــــــــــــــــــــخػ ال طوـي ىػي ٣ـــــــــــــــخ ال ••
ـــخ و ظل ال ٣ خ ٤ ؼط ط
ح١ ا ٠ أ أ خى ػ خى ه ٢ ه ي أ ط ٠ ؤػ م ر ظ خ ـــــــــخع ك ظي حالال حالؿ
٤ــــــــــــــــــــــــــــــــــــــــخس خك ٢ ٣ ٤ ك
ع ١ف ــصد ١ف ىص ححح سظعف ـــــــــــــــــصدأف سعى صف ا••
ظ ــــــــــــــــــــــــــــع ار ي ألح ح ٤ـــــــــــــــــخس أػ ل خػــــــــــذ ح ي أه أ
حأ ى١ع ١ صحــــؽحح صحـــــــــ١ؽحد سة١ سحص م١١ ص١ سح١فح ا••
ؼـــــــخىس لي ح ٤ ١ ـــــــــخ ح ٢ ط ٤ــــــــــق ل ـــــــن ح ط٣ ي ح أ ط
حف ـــش ال طلوي أال أرـــــــــــــــــيح ح
حىــــــــح ١ح حى حأف ـــ حظح ىعد أ ىىأص••
ىفأ فصح ـــــــــــــــــــــــةحفص مدصف ـــ١دح ىؽح ى١ أ عمصف••
ـــــــــي ؼخك خ ر
ـــــــــــــحم ــــــــــــــــــــــــىدا ءحـــــىد سؽحفد صع ا•• أىص ح ــــــــ٢
ــــــــــــــــــــــــــــــــم أ
ءحىدح ا ــــــــــــــــــــم١ دأص ح ـــــــــــــــــــــــــــــــــىـص صحــــــــــــ١ىح صىأ ا••
٤ـــــــــــــــــذ ا ح حم ػ ؼـــــــــــــــــــق ا ح ــــــــــــــــــؤر ـــــــــــــــــ ال ط خص ٣
ــــــ
ا٢ ٢ حثي ألخ حكؼخ أي ر أػظح رؤخ٤ظي أ أـــــــــــــــــض أ٣ـــــــض ••
ــــي ــــــ٢ ػ خ ــــي ح ٤ـــــــــ ح ؿ يى حال ٤غ ـ ح
ـــــــــــــــــــىى ا٢ حء هزــــــــــــــــي طي رزيثي ال طؤر ــ كظ٠ أ أزلض ك٤يح ـــــــصص ح••
٤ى خء ؿ ي ال ل ٤ ػ ؼ ٠ـــــــ أ ط كيس أك خ ظىى ك ال ط
ـخ ــــــــــــــــع١ؽحعصف صح١حىفح ححح فح ــــحد ء١ دحصى سح١فح ا••
ظ ـــــــــــــــــــ أر ٢ ز ال ط خكيع ك ـــــــي ٠ ظ حالك ظو
ظــــــــي خ ظ زص أر ٢ ؿ ز ٤خ ط ي غــــــــــــــــ م ىع ح رـــــــــــــ ـــــــــــــــــ أت
غــــــــــــــــ م رـــــــــــــ ـــــــــــــــــ أت
رــــــــــ ـــــــــــــــــ غــــــــــــــــ مأت ـــ
Chokri Omri ALLAH yahfdhek Hiba !!
September 19, 2010 at 22:41
Bird
September 19, 2010 at 18:54
It was passed from one bird to another,
the whole gift of the day.
The day went from flute to flute,
went dressed in vegetation,
in flights which opened a tunnel
through the wind would pass
to where birds were breaking open
the dense blue air -
and there, night came in.
When I returned from so many journeys,
I stayed suspended and green
between sun and geography -
I saw how wings worked,
how perfumes are transmitted
by featherly telegraph,
and from above I saw the path,
the springs and the roof titles,
the fishermen at their trades,
the trousers of the foam;
I saw it all from my green sky.
I had no more alphabet
than the swallows in their courses,
the tiny, shining water
of the small bird on fire
which dances out of the pollen
Pablo Neruda
Who Is Edward W. Said?
September 19, 2010 at 15:22
Said was born in Jerusalem (then in the British Mandate of Palestine) on November
1, 1935. His father, a US citizen with Protestant Palestinian origins, was a
businessman and had served under General Pershing in World War I. He moved to
Cairo in the decade before Edward's birth. His mother was born in Nazareth, also
of Protestant Christian Palestinian descent. His sister was the historian and writer
Rosemarie Said Zahlan.
Said once referred to himself as a "Christian wrapped in a Muslim culture":
With an unexceptionally Arab family name like Said connected to an improbably
British first name (my mother much admired the Prince of Wales in 1935, the year
of my birth), I was an uncomfortably anomalous student all through my early
years: a Palestinian going to school in Egypt, with an English first name, an
American passport and no certain identity at all.
According to his autobiographical memoir, Out of Place, Said lived "between
worlds" in both Cairo and Jerusalem until age 12. He attended the Anglican St.
George's Academy in 1947 in Jerusalem. As the Arab League states declared war on
Israel in 1947/1948, his family moved from the neighborhood of Talbiya in
Jerusalem and returned to Cairo. In a London Review of Books article Said gave a
more detailed account of his upbringing.
I was born in Jerusalem and had spent most of my formative years there and, after
1948, when my entire family became refugees, in Egypt. All my early education had,
however, been in élite colonial schools, English public schools designed by the
British to bring up a generation of Arabs with natural ties to Britain. The last one I
went to before I left the Middle East to go to the United States was Victoria College
in Alexandria, a school in effect created to educate those ruling-class Arabs and
Levantines who were going to take over after the British left. My contemporaries
and classmates included King Hussein of Jordan, several Jordanian, Egyptian,
Syrian and Saudi boys who were to become ministers, prime ministers and leading
businessmen, as well as such glamorous figures as Michel Shalhoub, head prefect of
the school and chief tormentor when I was a relatively junior boy, whom everyone
has seen on screen as Omar Sharif.
In 1951, Said was expelled from Victoria College for being a "troublemaker", and
was consequently sent by his parents to Mount Hermon School, a private college
preparatory school in Massachusetts, where he recalls a "miserable" year of feeling
"out of place". Said later reflected that the decision to send him so far away was
heavily influenced by 'the prospects of deracinated people like us being so uncertain
that it would be best to send me as far away as possible'.[6] Despite this dissonance,
Said did well at the Massachusetts boarding school often 'achieving the rank of
either first or second in a class of about a hundred and sixty'.
Said earned a Bachelor of Arts, summa cum laude (1957) from Princeton University
and a Master of Arts (1960) and a Ph.D. (1964) from Harvard University, where he
won the Bowdoin prize. He joined the faculty of Columbia University in 1963 and
served as Professor of English and Comparative Literature for several decades. In
1977, Said became the Parr Professor of English and Comparative Literature at
Columbia and subsequently became the Old Dominion Foundation Professor in the
Humanities. In 1992, he attained the rank of University Professor, Columbia's most
prestigious academic position. Professor Said also taught at Harvard, Johns
Hopkins, and Yale University. He was fluent in English, French, and Arabic.
In 1999, after his earlier election to second vice president and following its
succession policy, Said served as president of the Modern Language Association.
Said was bestowed with numerous honorary doctorates from universities around
the world and twice received Columbia's Trilling Award and the Wellek Prize of
the American Comparative Literature Association. In 1999, he won the inaugural
Spinoza Lens Award for ethics.
His autobiographical memoir Out of Place won the 1999 New Yorker Prize for non-
fiction. He was also a member of the American Academy of Arts and Sciences, the
American Academy of Arts and Letters, the Royal Society of Literature, and the
American Philosophical Society.
Said's writing regularly appeared in The Nation, The Guardian, the London Review
of Books, Le Monde Diplomatique, Counterpunch, Al Ahram, and the pan-Arab
daily al-Hayat. He gave interviews alongside his good friend, fellow political activist,
and colleague Noam Chomsky regarding US foreign policy for various independent
radio programs.
Said also wrote a music criticism column for The Nation magazine for many years.
In 1999, he jointly founded the West-East Divan Orchestra with the Argentine-
Israeli conductor and close friend Daniel Barenboim. The orchestra is made up of
musicians from Israel, Palestine, and the surrounding Arab countries.
Edward Said died at age 67 in the early morning of September 25, 2003, in New
York City, after a decade-long battle with chronic lymphocytic leukemia.
In November 2004, Birzeit University renamed its music school as the Edward Said
National Conservatory of Music in his honor.
Time past any surrender
September 18, 2010 at 22:54
Ce n‘est plus le temps de se taire
Quand le ciel change ou va changer
Ne me parlez plus du danger
Voyez voyez sur notre terre
Le pied pesant de l‘étranger
Louis Aragon
It is time past any surrender
When the sky changes or will change
Talk to me no more about danger
Over our Land harken to see
The blemishing foot of the stranger
Louis Aragon
-- Translated by Chokri Omri
Tower of light
September 18, 2010 at 22:34
O tower of light, sad beauty
that magnified necklaces and statues in the sea,
calcareous eye, insignia of the vast waters, cry
of the mourning petrel, tooth of the sea, wife
of the Oceanian wind, O separate rose
from the long stem of the trampled bush
that the depths, converted into archipelago,
O natural star, green diadem,
alone in your lonesome dynasty,
still unattainable, elusive, desolate
like one drop, like one grape, like the sea.
Pablo Neruda
الو اهشج لن ذرق لذظح
September 11, 2010 at 16:44
ش و ظ ال ح حإلػ خث خؿض ض):" س ـ٣ (ح ل٣ ٤ ط آ لى) ث ؼ٣ زي ح ظذ (ػ
١ د ح زذ ح ٤) ر ٢ ر ٢ (ط طخ ز٣ حء ح ٤ ح ) ث ٤ (ر ث ال اىحس ح
لش ـيحى أل الى ر ظ ح و خءحص ر خ حالىػ ؼحم، ه ٠ ح لد ػ ح ز٣ ظ ظوي ح
خ ح ي ش ح خ هال ه ٤غ أ ٣ ظط ن ٣ خر ٢ ح ؼحه ٤ ح ث ٤ ا ح ظ٢ ه خ ح
ش أ ػ لش ح ي حأل خ ط ال أ٣ ظ حص حالك ـي ه ط يح أح، وش ا ٤ ٤ ىه ؼ أر
٢ حإلىحس ٢ ى ك ٤ خ ح ؤ ٤ش أ ذ ه خ٣ ي حأل وي هؿض ط خ! ظخؿ ا خث ظ٠ ك
و٢ ظذ ح خ ٤ش، أ ٤ ؼيى ال حال ٢) ر خ ح (ار ي٣ ظذ ٣ ح ح ش، وخ ١خص ح
خ، ل ٣ خص ػ ؼ ح ؼ ـ ٣ ٣ ش، ح خ٣ ى ح ٤ خ ح و ٣ ؼ ؼي ح ظ ٣
وح خع ح ذ خط ٠ غ ػ ط خ، ػ خص أ ٣ ي ؼ ٣ خ ٣ خ ٤ ل ػ ٤ ٠ ٣
٤ش اىح وخؿ ظخؿ حس ح ز ٤ ح ٤ض حألر ز ٢ ح محعح ءح س١م ح ..س حأل حو٢ ك
حء ٤ ح ي ث ٤ ل خػ ح ىك ٣ خ ر ظ٢ ىى ٤خ ح و ٣ ٤ أك ٤ح
زش ؼ ٤ش، ٤ حص حال وخر ٤ ح وخ ث ظ خ ح ز ز ظ٢ ر ٤، ح ٢ ر ٢ ط طخ ز٣ ح
ذ خط وخال ٤ش ٣ لش noitan eht حأل ٤ ل ص ظذ. ي ح ٤ذ ص أالػ ر
ظذ خ زخ ح٣ ظ ؤ ي ح خ ه ٢ ٤ حث حء حإل ٤ ح ٤ أ ث ك ل، ىح٣
٢ ٤ أ٣ ل ذ ػ خط و ح ي .. ه ر زخ خ ٠ حط ٢، ػ ٣ ش حأل وخ وططخص ح ح
ن ػ ٣١ خص ط خى ؼ ا ٤ش، ه ٤ حص حال وخر خ وش ر ٤ ش ػ ٠ ن ػ خر
ن ٤خ ٤ش ك ؼحه ش ح ؼخ حؽ، خ حـ ح٢١ حؼحه٢ ح١ ٣أ حكي ؿز٢، ح١ أي ح
رزذ حهظخع ٣ حيكخع حأل٢٣ ..!!أل٤٤٣ ا حؼذ حؼحه٢ ٤كذ ر طك٤ذ حل٣ رؤ٣ي لظكش
ك٤خ ٣و ي حؼخ، وخىس رخ هخ حـز٢، هخق هخىط حؼ٤٣ ح٣ خح ٣ ذ ح زذ ١ ح ح
٣ ؼ ٤ش، ال أػيحى ح ؼحه ي ح ٢ ح ك لع حأل ل وحص ي ح ٣ ٤ ح ٣ ؼ ح
وططخص ظذ ح ٠ ا ظ٢ ط ١ش ح ـ خص ح ؼ ح ٤ش! خك ط ٤ ٤ ٣ حأل
ؾ ير خ ٣ ١ خ، ح ٢ ٤ حث حء حإل ٤ ح ظذ ث خ ظ٢ ٣ ي ح ش، ط وخ ح
وخ٣ اكي طي حخث خض طظ حؼحم رلخش حل ..ظرش رخـش حإل٣٤ش ا٠ خ٢ زخسط
ريأص أػ٤ رؼ ححهز٤ حـر٤٤ طظلظق ػ٠ ؼكش ٤ش حد حظ٢ خض ط ا٠ .ػ٠ ح٤ح٤ ح٤ـ
ف ..إخث ظ٠ ح حد ح١ ٣ زخس احث٤ أ ٣ل ٢.. ك خ ز ؿخػش ه
خػش لخ ٠ ى ػ ٤ ٤طس ح ظوك يأح ٣ ٢ ر ٤ ع ح ٣ خ ح
ويح ظ ظذ يأ ٣ خى ر ي ٣ ٤ش.. ه ٤ش حألر ٤ حال ل ٤ص ح ٢ ر وح ك ح
خ ز ١ ىػ خ ح زن ط ٢ حأل ٤ حأل٣ ث ؼ ح خ ك ، ء أهاله ى ٤ ف ح ط
خ أكـخح خ خ ٤ أ ر ق ر ظ ي ٣ لش.. ه ـش ه وش ك ط٣ ظ ر خإح ؼخ أ ي، ػ ٣
!٤ و ح ؼخ خ ال ٤ ز ؼ خ ال ٠ ظ ى١ ال ٣ لخ ٣ ؾ ٣ ط ؼش ٠ ه ػ
<span>ص١ىف ١صح سحإح ع عحىفأ مح مدح١ص ١ف ءحؽ ح صمع صأم ع
ق ٤ش ط ٤ ي١ ؤ٣ و ر خ اال ػ ظن ػ ل ظ طم ال ٣ ٤ ر خء الص ك ط ر ٣
ع ............ حال غ ح ٤ق حط يؿخ ح أ ح حط ٤طخ ر ح
ش : ى٣ ٤ ئحس ح ح
ظحس خ ح ط ، ر م ح خ ك لي ، ال ط م أ خ ك ح ٤ش ال ط ٤طخ ـس ٢
ط خ ر ى ، ؿػ ظ خ ح حص حلخء ، كػخ ح٤جخص حظخص حي٤ش ، أحهخ ؿ
ػض .خث حإلػال حث٤ش حػش حظرش ، ػخخ حإللخى حاللال ظـض رخ ك٢ أخ٤خ وض أ
و٤ض رخء حذ ، أ٤ق ا٤خ خى حس ، خ حظوخ ػىخ وض ؿ ض ك٢ أ٣خ ، حص ك٢ ر٣طخ٤خ
حألح٢ حوزش ؼ ح حع حألـخ ، كخظي ػىخ حطلغ كظ٠ رؾ ػخ حخء ، حظيص ؿخ ا٠
ظ٠ روخع حأل ، ريأخ وطق ٤جخ رح٤ ػخخ ، ػيخ ٠٣ذ خء حذ حأل ، ظؼ كرخ
س ػ٠ حؼخ ، وطق حلؽ ح آحى ٣ؤط٢ ٣ حلخى ، .ؼخ٢ ػخ حلو حـخػش ح ال ػالؽ حي
ذ حؼـ حز٢ ه٤خ ش ىحى حيظخط٣ش حؼخ٤ش حألري٣ش ، ػ٠ أ١ال حـي حأله٠ ك٢ هي حألهيح ، ٤
. ز ح أكيح ا
ي : ـي٣ ز٢ ح ي ح ظظخ ش ح زيح٣ ض ح خ
حإلال ؼكظ رخ ٤ أ ، ػش حظخ حطخع ىظ ظ خ١ن خؼش حؼخ غ ظ
يوح ألح ٠ػ طط٤ خ ، خ٤ك ٢خؼح ٢ألح شخهإل ، خ٤ا طىػ ٢ك الكأ ضالط ، ش
ح ػ ي حطف ئهظخ ، ػ ح ك٢ طلو٤ن حي حلى١ ػ٠ حظ حوخ٢ ػ٠ حظ حلػ٢ ، كظو
، سخػيح ن٤هح سخـط ذ٣ظح شه خ٤ظكح خر ، شػح ٤ؿ شػح مطخر خح غـر ،
ح اهخش ىظ حلخ٤ش حء ح حذ ، حظح ػ٠ طي حلخ ا٠ أ ط حظظغ ر٣ش حل٤خس حي٤خ ؿ
حص ٢ ر ؤط ١ ٣ خ ٤س ، ر زءس حأله أؿغ هال ح ؼخ ح ك ظظ٣ ، ٤ ط ٢ ك ك
ظظ ) . ح ٤ل وي ( ح
٢ حأل : ك ظخط
٢ ظحؿيح ك ، ك ٤ش حأله ؼر الى ح ز ٢ ح ح ك له خ ، ط ٠ ح ا ز ـ أؿ ي حط ؼي ر
ؿ خ ، ر ي حأل خ الى ح ؼحم ر طؼخ حإلال حق غ أ حظخد ، اال أ خح ح
و٤ ي٣ رخ ؼ حإلال ه٤ى ػ٠ أحث طخؼ حخى٣ش ، ؿى حوآ ػي حيى ػ٤وش أري٣ش ،
ل ٢ ظ ح ٤ ك ؼ ح ٤غ أكي ظط ٢ ٣ . ل ط خ ح٣ وش ٤ و ك ؼ زخث ق ١ ط
ؼ خ ٣ ال٢ ، ؿ ل خخ ػ٠ حظو٢ ػ ١زخثؼ حإل ى ا٠ اظخ اال اهلخء ٣ى٣ظ ، أ أ ٣
أحث ك٢ حلخى حإلكخى ، ح خ ال ٣حكن ١زؼ ال خ ٣ؤ ر طى ، ي آػ حؼ٤ حـس
حؼ ، وخس حزالى حظ٢ خض طو٠غ ل حإلال٢ طزخػخ ػ٠ ٢ ح وخ ك ح و ر ظ ح ػ
ؼش . ز ح ظ ؼ ٤ ز ط ٤ ر ٤ ـ حألر ش زيح٣ ٢ ح خ ك ل ظ خ ٤ ٤غ ؿيح ك ٤ش ، ك حألر
ي حوخ٢ : حالطخى حألر٢ ٤ى ك ك٢ طل٤ ح
حع ذ ح خث ح خ ٤ ح ؼ ض ، أ ح ه ٤ غ ح ٤ ألر ٤ ز خ ط ي ػ
ض خى حالؿ ل خ ظ ش ، ح خى٣ ظ ٤خحص حه و ـخػخص ح ش ، ك خى٣ ظ ٤ش حاله خػ
ؼ ، ظ ش حؿ ل ٤ ح ؼ ؼح ح ى ، ٤ ز ح ز خ ش ، ٣ ح
خء ى خ ٣ ؼخ غ ل ـي١ ط ط ، ك ؼخالط ط ظ ٤ي ك و ظ٢ ط ٤ ح وح ح
٤ ١ى ءح١فأ ١ف ع ص . ل حأله ي ح خ ال ر ؼخ ، ك ل ي ـي١ ٣ ك ش ر س هخ
ؼ حى ٣ ش آ ٤ خ ؿخالص ح ٤ش ، ـر خ ح يح أر ؼظ ر ٤ ل ١ى
ى ٤ ي ح حءحص ي حإلؿ ي ط ئ٣ ح ٣ خ ط٠ ، ح ؼ ٢ ح ى ك خ٣ ظ
٠ ش ا خك خإل خ ، ر ر خ ح ٤ش ٤ل ح ظل٣ خ حظق طـي٣ق ػ٠ ح٤ق حيط
ػيحء ٤ل٤٤ ك٢ طى ح١ ، ح١ ؿذ ححرق حـخػ٤ش ك٢ رؼ حزيح حألر٤ش بزخ٤خ رـ
خ زخػيس ، ك ظ ظحص ٠ ك ذ ػ ؼخه ظ خ ر ١ى ش ط خ٣ ٢ ح ـخ ، ك زط ح
٤خ خ ك خ ٤ ـ خ ، ر ـخ٣ ٤خ حخ ، يح ازخ٤خ ٤ظح٤خ ، حزطـخ ا٣طخ٤خ
، كخط ح٤ى ـس ، ا٠ ٤خ أرخ حه٤ش 1551 كظ٠ ػخ 1253أخ٤خ ، ريءح ػخ
: ريح٣ش حئحس ا ال ري حظآ .....حإلزح٣١ش حؼؼخ٤ش
خ حء حالطخى حظؼ٣ذ حطى هز حألر٤٤ آحى أزق ٤ى ؼذ ظض أرحد .ظخ ، ؿ
٠ رخ٠ش حألر٤ش ، كل٤ ر٤ حـ ش حألر٤ش هي أؿوض ى ، ك٤غ ريأ خى رؼي ك٤ أؿذ ح٤ى خ ٣
لى١ ، ي ح ظ ح ي حأل٢ ، أ ظ ح ٠ حء ػ ، ال ٤ن أك و ل ٤ ط ح خ ال ر
خ خ رؤؿحء حئحس حأل٠ ك٢ طخ٣و ، ك٤غ حؿ أهس ٣ق ، حألؿحء ط ٣ظط٤ؼ حكظخ أ طوز
ظخ ، طؼ ك٢ ؼ رخي٤ش رخوخش غ ٣ق أه٤ ، خ ىحكؼ حلي كخؿظؼح ح طآح
ح ح ه الر حو٤ ، ا ٣و ك٢ ظخد حلحثي أ أ حؼخ٢ ، مح ح ١ف ١ف١ .أؿؼح كل
حز حل حلي ، كخز ؿؼ ار٤ ٣لن ػ أ ر ، حل أهؽ آى حـش ، حلي :ػالػش
ع ؿؼ أكي حر٢ آى ٣وظ أهخ ، رؼي حظير ك٢ ح حو ، ظـي أ حط٣ن ا٠ حهع ك٢ حؼ٤ش ، ه ح
لئحى و ح ؼ ٤ذ ح ٤ ـ ظ و٢ ر لح ك ٠ ح خى ػ ظ ش ، هال حالػ لخ ش ح وخ ش ٣ ك
خر ، ظ ٢خ وك وح حي ػ سي الح ٠ ظ ز لح خ ػ يه ، ألح ٠ ٠ ز خل ٢ك
٤ ئط ٣ ي ٠ ل ؤ ح ر حأل ش ، ك لخ ش ح وخ وآ ػ ح ٤س ح ؼ غ ح
خء ػزخى ، أخ ح٤ى رؼي ا١الػ٢ ػ٠ خ ؿخء ك٢ طحط طى ، كب ؿؼح ك٤خ أ حؼخ٢ ٣
حي٤خ ػ٠ ح٥هس ، حلي ؿؼ خ ، كخز ؿؼ أك٠ حخ ػ٠ حإل١الم ، حل ؿؼ ٣ل٠
خ ألل . ٣ظز٤ل ظخص ح٥ه٣ ٣ظل
ح٤ى حكظال أرخ حهظخى٣خد ( ع ) : االكخط ح٤ش ك٢ حو حخى ػ ، ٣
، (رلؼ ح٤ى أل )ػيخ ط طي٤ حطش ح٤ش ، حظ٢ هخ رخ حإلالك٤ ك٢ أرخ ٠ا سحظح ض
ي ٢ ح ز ك و ؼ ح ى ر ٤ ش ، ؿي ح وي خ ح ظذ ح ٢ ٤ ك ـ ٤ش ، حإل حألر
٢ ى ك ٤ ح ؼ ١ ط ـخػ٢ ، ح طى ح خى ح ط ال ـش ٤ ظ جخ ، ٤ جخ ك ٤ خ ٤ ؼخىح ا ك
٢ ش ك ٣ ح خػخط ظ وي حؿ ؼ يءح ٣ ى ، ر ٤ خ ح خص ح خ غ ه ظ ٠٠ ، حؿ خ ٤ ي ك ح
٤ ي ح ذ ـ وخ ط ظ ال ش ) ظ٢ خث ؼ ز أ ( ه ؼخ ػ و ح خص ح خ٣
٠ ٤طس ػ ٤خ ٤طخ وططخ ي٣ ى١ ، ط ٤ خ ح ؿى ح ػذ س أه . ر ح
خ ى أر ي ٠ يؿش حأل ٢ ح خ ك خ ؿ ٤خ ، زيث ؼح وططخ ك ك ؼخ ح
٤ل٢ . ح ي٣ ؿخالص ح
ى ٤ ن ح خ٣ ٢ ط ز أهط ئحس ك أ
: ٠ ٢ أ١ح حأل وط٢ ك ح
ظ ق لخ حؿظخػخط ك٢ ظخد ٣ ( ؽ١ح سعم ع حؽفأ )ه وطط حزيث٢ خ
ؼخ : يف ح ٢ : ح خ ٣ ش ، ر ي٣ ش ح زل٣ ٢ ح زخحص ك ظو ٢ حال خر خ ) ٤خ ل ( ئ
ؾ ظ٣ ط ، ػ ؼخ ٠ ح ى ػ ٤ ٤طس ح ٤ي ظ ش ، لخى٣ ذ حإل ح ح خىس ٤ ح ؤ ط
ل ٣ ح٤ى ل٣ي خ ؿ٤ ، ) .خ أ٤خىح ػ٠ حؼد أ ل ظ٤ـش ي ر حؼ٣٤ ح
ؿ٤ ح٤ى حؤؿ٣ يح٣ ؿ٤ ، ك٤غ ريأص حأل١كخص حظ٣خص حإللخى٣ش حس ؿى هللا
، كظص ح٤ػ٤ش ؿ ظ٢ حح ) س١حأح ( ا ح )ػ ٤ش ( ح ظح ص حال ) ظ حإل
٠ ؼد ا ٤ ح و ظ ط وط٢ : ٣ لش ح ل ) . ك ٤غ ح ك زيأ٣ ٤ ح خ ر ؼض ؿ
ش خى٣ ظ حاله خ ق ، ك ػيى ح ه خ ط ي ى ٠ حألر خع ا ظ س ، ط خر ظ حص ؼ
ؼ ح ٤ق ظ ط ٣ خ ، ػ ٤ ٤ش ؿ ؼه ٤ش ح خػ ظ ٤ش حالؿ ٤خ حص ، ػ ٣ـ١ ح
ي طلط رؼ٠خ رؼ٠خ ، رخظخ٢ (كظش )طير٤ كخىع خ طظزذ ك٢ اؼخ حلد ر٤ حؼحص ، ظ
٠ ٤طس ػ ؼ : 1. ح خؾ ح زخػخ . ر ٤ش ط ي٣ خص ح ئ ٤ش ح ١ خص ح ل ٢ ح خه ظ ط
خ حء ح خإلؿ ٤خص ، ر ئ خص ح ظ٣ ق ح ظ ٠ و ػ ل حء ؿخالص ح س ) حإلؿ ٢ ( ح
٤ أ١ ل ي ط وط٢ ، ػ ٤ ح ل خص ط ـخ٣ ـال ظ ظ ح ٣ ػ ي ه ٢ ، ػ ـ ح
٤لش ٠ ل ٠ ؼ٣ ٢ ، أ ط خ وحد ح ٢ أ ح ٤خ لخء ح ط خال ي ر ي٣ ظ ط لخد ، ٣ خال ر
ظ و خ ر ظو خ ي١ أ ر ـ حء ح إل٣ ٠ ؼ٣ ، أ ط ز و ظ ٠ ٢٠ ػ و ز ط ش ػخ
٤ش .2 . ؼ ي ح ؼخ ـخؼخص ح س ح خط ؤ ؼ خى١ ، لخى١ ح ذ حإل و٢ ح ظ غ ؼ ىك
٤ش ش ػخ ش ك خ ٤ ، إله له ظ طالد ح ٤ ح ٤ش ر ؼخ ٤ش ح س حأل ؾ ك ظ٣ ، ٣ ل
٤طس ٢ ح لن ك ح ش ، وخ ٤ش ح و ؼ خص ح ذ ح ح وخ ١ ح أ حأل خػ حكيس ، اه
٠ حىمصح ص١ .3 . ( ١ىحفاح دح محصعح ؽ ءح١ؽى ى )أه لخءس خء ػ
ؼي ظخ ، ر ق ح ؼالء ه ذ ح ح وح ظ حػ ٣ ى ) ح ٤ ٤ ح طالد ( ؿ ش ح خ ح
٠ ش ا ي زخ ؿخ ح غ يك ، ٤ ٤ خ ظ زحء أ حه لش ه خص ر ل غ ح ٤ ي ؿ ال اك
خص ٤خ ؾ ، ؤ ٢ك خ ح زح ي ؼ ٤ ح شيه ي ح صخططو ش٣ ٤ ظح ، ى ٠ا
ش لخك ٠ ح ٤طس ػ خ . 4. ح ألؿ ؼ ظ٢ ٣ خص ح ل خ ح ٤غ حألى٣ ـ ٢ خث ٤ ح ظي ح
٢ ك خ ى ، ط ٤ ق ح خ وي ظ٢ ط خص ح ؼ زخ ح ؾ حأله ظ٣ ال ، حإلػ خث
. ٢ خث خ ح يك ٤ن و ل ٤ ، ط ى ار ش ؿ ظ ٤س ز ـػش ئحس ك ٠ ح ػ وخث خ ح أ
م خص ح زخ كخهخ ش ل ٠ ك ش ا خك خإل ، ر ؼخ ٢ ح ى ك ٤ خء ح ٣ زخ أػ ش ل ٠ ك ط
، ٤ ح ، ؿخػش ح لخط ٢ ئ ؼ ك زخك ح ٤ خ ػ و ظ٢ أ١ خء ح ـد ، حأل ح
٤ش ، ح ل و ح ؼخ ش ح ك ح١ىأح محمأح ١ىص ع أ ى حد ع١ .٣ى حؼخ٤
ا ، ؼ لح خ هإلح د ٤ ٤ ؼح ش خ ٤ ٣ ، ش ٤ ػ ط ؼ ٠ ٤ ح ظ ح صخ ش٣
ش ؼش ه ٤ ك ػالء ١ ح يس ، ٤خص ػي٣ لض ش ط ى٣ ٤ ٤ ح ش ؿ ى٣ ٤ ٤ش ح ؼ ح
ي ٤ش ١ خص ح ل ٢ ؼظ ح ح ك حؼخ ، ح٣ رخػح ؼر أ١خ رؤرو حألػخ ، ط٤
الص ط . ر خط ٤خ يحك ؼ أ ٢ خ ٣ ٤ خ ، ك لخر ئحس أ ن ط ح الث ر
٤ خء الص ك ط غ.. ر ز ظ ٤ ,,, ٣ خء ك
ط خ٣ خ ( الص ، ػ زط ح خ ) أ ٤خ و ( ٣ خء ٣ ٣ زخ أػ ي ) أكي ٣
٤خ ػخ خ ؤ لص ر ح ٢ ك ٤ ، ك ـر ى ح ٤ خء ح ٣ زخ أػ ٢ ػ خ حػ ى ، أ ٤ ح
سىفح دم حف ح١حأ ١ف 1784 حع سفىحد ص ىمف حفى حأ ، 1773
ي حى . ٤خ آ خ ٢ أ س ك ظخ خ ح ش خ لخر ظ ض لخر ش ، ط خ٣ زخك حظوض ا٠ ح
ح٣ش حظخش ، خع ؼظ ٣ى حؼخ ا٠ حظ خ ، حظطخػح رخ ي٣ ل اؿخ حخ
لض ك٤ كظ٠ ظق حو حخ٢ ، حظ خد حزخكؼ حلخص ػ٠ طـخخ ، ي ح٤ ح١
ي ئ ٢ ، ٣ و ظ زلغ ح خ خ ر خ ظ ٤ ٣ ـر ١خروش خ ؿخء ك٤خ ، غ خ ؿ ٣ـ١ ػ٠ ح
كخط حوط ح٤ى١ حلي م رؤ ، ال ك٤خس طخى١ ك٢ كخص طــ أ ححهغ ، ٣ل
ص حوط -خ حض -ك٤خ ح٤ى ، خ طظــ رظ٣٤خ حظ ك٢ حألخ ، ؼظ حظذ حظ٢ ك طل
ى١ ٤ أخ .ػ٠ ؼد حؼخ خ ٤خ حالهظلخء حألحم ، أ حإلوخء ك٢ ح٣خ ح٤خ حإلخ ح
ح٤ رخ٠ش ح٤ى ؼخىحط ك٢ حـد كوي ػظ أ ، كو دحفأح ىفأ ١ع حع ( ى١ح )٣ ل
خ كر خ ك ي ى ، ػ ٤ خ٠ش زخحص خ ػ ن ٣ ١ أ١ ش ح خ٣ ى٣هح٤١خ رؤؿز٤ش ك٢ وخػي ح
ش اػال٤ش ز ك٢ احث٤ أ٣خ ر٣طخ٤خ كخ حأل حظليس ، كظ٠ ـ حزخ هخض حي٤خ طوؼي ،
ؿ حالطلخى حألر٢ ػ٠ وخ١ؼش حخ غ سىفح ١ف د ف ف١ص ( ى١ح )أ
ش . خ٣ ح
ذ ٤ش خث ـش ح ٤ ٢ :ح ٤طخ وط٢ ح حىة ح
ى لخ٤ حلن ٣لخ ) .أ هح٤ حطز٤ؼش طو٢٠ رؤ حلن حوس .1 رؼ٠ أ ح١ ٣ي حوس ح١ ٣ لي
ؼش . ( وش حه ٤ و ك ط س ـىس ض اال ك ٤ ٤ش ٤خ ش ح ل٣ ) . 2. أ ح ٣ ٠ ح٥ه ػ
ي ى٣ ؤ خ ر ٣ خء ظخ ٤غ حالىػ ظط ي ط ٠ أ ؼ ٢ ر ك أ١ ش ح ل٣ ق ر ح٢١ ط ه
طش ظ٠ طخص ك ح م خ ) ك ذ ( ح طش ح ح ) . 3. أ١ ح٥ه غ ح ـذ ه ٣ وخر ح
ش ؼ٣ خص ح ل ح ٣ ٤ش ، هال ط ح ٤ ح ؿ ل ش ح ظ وخ١ أ ا ي٣ ش ح . ( لخر ي٣ ح
و ) . خ خ ر ظ ح ٣ ش ط ظل٣ خ ح ح٤ش .4 حص حألك ) .حـخ٣ش طز
يس ٠ ا ٤ ح ز ٢ ٤ن ك ل ظ ويحع ح د ح ٠ ح ـؤ ا ١ ٣ ح : خ ٢ ح ٤خ خ ك
ي وخث ؼ خص ح ئ ٤ ح لط ٢ ط ظخ خ . ( ر أله ٤خىس ح ؼي أ ط ) . 5. ح ل ح
حء ، ٤خط ئ وه ك ظ ظى ح خ ٣ ي ش ، ػ وخث حلوخء ح . (كس حظل
٣ـذ أ طزو٠ طظخ حخؿش ػ ٤ططخ ػ٠ حخ ول٤ ش ػ أػ٤ حـ٤غ ) .س حلخكظش ػ٠ ح٣ش .6
ـ ، ش٣خ ح ٠ا شؿى وح ط ال س ظ ٤ط ه ١أ غ س ؼ خ ظح و .7 . ( ي ؼح س
ش ح ل٣ . ( أل ح ي٣ خ ـخس ك خ ١ ـخى ك ٠ ا٣ غ ، ػ ٠ ه ظخؽ ا ل ٠ ط ٠ ك ظل ا وش ط ط
ؼد زق ح ظ ي٣ خ ر يح ٤ ر ز ، ط ؼر ش ه خ ل جي ح ٠ أل ظ ٢ ٣
خ ٤غ أ ؿ ؾ ٣ لش . ( ط ظ و ح ي حأل جش خ ٤خ ح خى حألؿ ٤غ ) . 8. اك ز ح ر
٢ ؼ ك خء ٤ ح و زش ، ط ٤ ز خى ح ٢ إلك اله لال حأله ى حيػخس ، رخظخ٢ طظ حال
١صح ١ح ؽح .9 . (ح٣ش كظ٠ ر٤ ٤يحص حـظغ ححه٢ اهظيحء رلظ٤خص ح طو٤يح
خص ظ خد ظ خى١ الؿ ظ ـ حاله . ( ح حأله ؼخى غ حأل ذ ح ، ن حأل ط٣ ح
ش ٣ ز ح خث و ع ح ذ ه ظـ ، ٣ ش ) . 01. أح ح٥ه ك ش ح ٣ ؼ لد ح ٢ ح ك
ـذ ا١الم ي ٣ ذ . ( ٤ش ح وح١ ظ يال أ خ ر ٤ش ح وح١ ظ ٠ أ ٢ ػ ز ظخ اكال
ح خ ن ، خر ظخ ح ٤ ح لط ٤ش ط ـ ؼد ر ٤ ح خء ، ر خحس حإله ش ح ل٣ ؼخحص : ح
خ وش ، ؼ٣ ـ ح ٤ش حص ح حألر ٠ حأل خ ا ش ، ؿ زح٣١ ٤ش حإل ح حأل
ن لد ه خس ح ظح ) . 11. اػ حالك وي٣ ظ جخ ح ٤ خ ؼي ئحس ر ح و٠ ٤
ي يس . ( ؼخ كد ؿي٣ خ يهال إل ؼ ـ خ ؼي وي ر ؼ ظ٢ ط ال ح يحص ح ؼخ ٢ ـحص ك ؼ ح
د ـ ح ظ ح و ، كخؿش ٠ ح ٤ ا ظلخر لخؿش ح خ رؼي حلد إلػخىس حإلػخ
حزخء ، رخظخ٢ هػ طلض ١ؤس حي٣ ي حلخص ح٤١ش ه خهخ ، ط٤٤ أخ كذ خ ٣وظ٤٠
٤ ظ ٣ ٣ ٤ش ح و ؼخف ح ؼد خىس ن ه ش ) . 21. ه يح خص ٤خ وط٢ ح
٤غ ط ح بر ي ر ع . ( و ٠ع ح و خ هال حظ٣ؾ حإلػال٢ ، ظ٤ل ر
٤ ظل٤ خذ حؼخش ك٢ حلخص ح٤١ش ، ػ حظالػذ ر حء حظخ رحطش ػالء ظو
ظ٣ؾ حألخ٣ذ حإلخػخص حل٠خثق حل وش حظ٢ طوي ) .حظالى خث حإلػال ح٤طس ػ٤خ .13 . (٤خخطخ
خ ح ؼر ؼ أؿ ظ٢ ط خ ، ح وححط ش ر و ظ ٤ش ح ١ ح ل ش ح ظ ذ أ ئحس ) . 41. ه
ظئى١ خ ٤ ٤ش ك حص ىحه ن ػ ظ ه ل خس ح بػ ي ر ئحس . ( زخص ح ظط ٤ذ ظـ ال ط
٤ذ خ ، ط ٤ ػ وخء ح ش ا لخ ش ح ظ حأل و١ ٢ ظخ خ ٠ ، ر ل ش ح ٠ كخ ا
ؼالء ن ر طش حو٤خش حظخ حخرن ح صحأح حىمصح .15 . (هخىس ك٢ خ٣ش ػس اػيح ٣
ش زطخ ن كخالص ح ٢ ه زذ ك ظ ؼد . ( ح خص ح ؿ ٠ ط ٤طس ػ ش خى٣ ظ حاله
٤ش و حألك زق ظ ، لخر زخىس أ خ ػ ح وي٣ ٠ ط ؼد ا ٤ ح ظؿ ـع ، و ح ل ح
١ س ك٢ ح٤خىس ، حطوخ هيس ح٤ ػ٠ ي٣ ، رخظخ٢ و١ أكو٤ش حي٣ أظش حل ح٤١ش ، حأل
حم ) . س١ىحح س١ىحفاح ىةحمعح .16 . (حظى ػ٠ خ وي أؿ وش حؼ٤
٤ش ، خ ش حإل ٣٤ و خ ح ظخ حألػ لض ز ، ط م ح ح ٤ لخك ظ خخ٤ش حى١ ط
حطخ١ ح٤ ، حظ٢ طلخد ك٢ حلو٤وش خ طؼ حألى٣خ حخ٣ش ، طخ أ٠٣خ ك٢ طلو٤ن أيحف
هيحع حـخ٤ حظ رخظؼخ حؼخحص حوطخرخص .17 . (حوط٢ حأله ىحه حزيح حظ٢ طظحؿي ك٤خ
أ ، حع ى١ سؽى ١حؽح عح حف دص ١صح ) . ح خش حػى رخل٣ش حظل
٠ ػ ل ؼي ح ٢ ر ظخ خ ؼش ، ر ٤ ز ط ٤ ح ح ٤ش ه حإل ظ٠ حألح ق ك وخ خ ٣ ف ر ظ ط
خ س اظ ٤خس ) . 81. ل هللا ؼـ ح ظ٠ ح ل ك ؼد ، ٠ ح وش ػ ط ٤طس ح ح
ي هال ح ) . ٤ ـخ وس إلخد ح كظؼخ كخص طى ٤ش ػ٠ أظش حل ، هغ ػخخ ح
رخوس ػ٠ ػ أ أ حـخ٤ ، رخالػظوخ حـ حظؼ٣ذ حوظ اح حأل ، حػ ك٢ هد
ك٤ ػي وخلش حلخ خق أ حعصح .19 . (حـخ٤ ، طـ ذ أ١ ػ٤خ ق هي ٣ ل
دفح ىعد سحم ، صححف أ صحمحفصح ١أ ١ف مىص ) .يرخ٤ش ح٣ ش هال حؼالء ح
ش ل ح خؾ ز ح ح ٢ خث يف ح ئحس ) . 02. ح لن غ وططخص ح ظ خ ٣ خ ر ى ر ظل٣
خحص ظ خء حك ١٠ ا ح ٤ ي ) . ؤ ر ؼخ ٠ ح ٤ط ػ ظ٢ ط ٤ش ح ؼخ ح
ض حء حطلخى ػحص ح٤ى ؿ٤ؼخ ، رل٤غ ال ٣ أل١ ػس ػحص حـرخء خ ػظ ػخ٤ش وش ، ؿ
ح٤ى حؼخ٤ رظ حز حى أخخ ، خ ٣ئى١ ا٠ ح٤خ حؼحص حلخص ، ػيخ ٣ؿ
ي ظ ٠ ح ٤طس ػ الء ح ٤ ظ خ ) . 12. حال ٢ ٣ ٤ش ك خػ ش ح ظـخ٣ ش ح وخ٣ ؼ حص ح
ظـخ ش ٤ ػخى ش ؿ خك ؼش ل ذ ط حث ي هال ؛ أال : ك خء . ( ـر
٤خحص حال ٤ش ، ك ١ يهحص ح ؼحص ح ٤ ح لط ٢ ط ظخ خ ٤ ، ر ٤ ١ ح
زش طخ ؼخ ، خس ح وخ اػ حى ح ٠ ح ٤طس ػ ٤خ : ح خ . ػ خأل ش ر خى٣ ظ خػخص ػ حاله ر
خ ٤خ ٠ ح ي ا ٤ئى١ ؼخ ، ك غ حأل ك ٤ش ١ خص ح ٠ط ح ٠ ، ح ط أؿ أػ أه
.22 . ( خىس حألؿ لخىس ٣ ظ ح حال ؤ١ كخ حألك ؼخ ر ح ظ ـذ أال ٣ خ ، ٣ ال اك
خ . ( ٣ خ ر ٣ خ ؼ خى٣ خػش ظ ح خص حأل حف ١خه ظ لد ال ش أي ح و٠ ا١خ ز ٢ ال ٣
٤ ال٣ لخد ح ش أ ل خ ك خ ط ٤ ٤ط ػ ؼخ ، ط ـػخص ح ش خ٣ ٢ ح ك
لش ، ظ و ش ح ى٣ ٤ خحص ح ؼ ظ ش حال لخ٣ ١ش حأل حى ح ٤ أك ؼالء ، غ ػيى ه ح
ل يح ) . 32. ح ز ش ح خك ٢ خ ك خ أ ش كر ٠و ٤ش ح ظخ ٤ ح ـ ـخء ح ٠ آه ا ؼ س ر
٢ ؼخ ظخ ح ح . ( ك ل ظخ وش ط ش ح ٣ ظخط ي ي ح ظ ؼ ٤ش ط ز و ظ ٤ش ح ؼخ ح
خء ؼ ٤ ح ٤ش ، ر ؼخ ش ح ل حى ح ٤ أك ٤ ؼ ظ ر ظخط ي ٤ ح و ك ١ ٣ ي ، ح ـي٣ ح
٤ش خػ ظ خص حالؿ ظ٣ ش ح خك ٠ ؼالء ا ح ٤ ) . 42. ط ال٣ لخد ح ٤ أ خى٣ ظ حاله
٤ش . ( ل ح ظ٠ ط جش ، ك وخ١ خص ح ظ٣ خ ر و خى ػ زخد اك ٤ ح ٠ أؿ ط
خ ظ ظ٢ ٤ش ح ي ٤ش ح يحه ٤ ح وح ى ح ال ) . 52. ط ز و ظ ٤ ٤طس ػ ٤ش ح ػ
٤ ر وح ٤ ح ل ن ط خ . ( ػ ٣١ و ٤ ز ط خ ط ؼخ ظ خءس ح ٢ ، ا خ ي خص ح ل ح
خع ؼ أال ه ظ خ ، ٣ ك خه ػ ٣وظ حظلي ع ػ . (ح ظـط٤ظخ ػ ٣ظ ١خ رؼي ي خث٤خ
و٠خء ػ٤خ ، ال ح حػظوخى (ؿ٤ ح٤ى )ؼ طؼظوي أ حـرخء :رخو ٣ظح رؼي ح ، أ ٤ز
ن ؼ ح ؼ أ ـ وس حإلخد ، ط ٠ ىؿش ح ش ػ ظ ـد ٢ ح خ ك ٤ د ـخػش هخ١ت .
ططـق أخخ ، طي ٢ ظش حزخص حول٤ش طلض حأل ، ؼ ػ٠ طؤ٤ ظخص ح حع ، ك٢
ف ظخد * . ػخش ي٣ش ظه غ ي حوط خ ، حظ٠ . ( ؽ١ح سعم ع حؽفأ )رظ
غ هز أؼ ح حوط٢ ، ٤ ا٠ أ ش طو٣زخ ، أ حؼ ػ٠ طل٤ رو٢ ؿخ٣خ ػ٠ هي 200ى أ
ك٤غ حوخث٤ ػ٤ ، ك٤غ رحـ أىحط ، ٤ظحكن غ حظطحص ى حظط خم ، خ ىحث حظـي
وظػخص حظخكخص خث حالطخ خث حلد ػ٠ حظخػش حظ٢ ظص ك٢ حو٤ حخ٤٤ ،
حؼ ، خ ن وط ٢ ح٤طخ٢ ، ح١ هط ظ أ٣ي١ أرخش ح٤ى ػ٠ ص خ ويش ح ح و طق أحػخ ،
ن ، ك٢ ؼكظ حظؼ ك٢ ؿؼزظ ، ٣ رح ح ح خ ز ؿ٤ ح٤ى ، أ ٣ـؼح ح ح
غ خ خ ، حث ش أ ٣ ز ل ح يحه ح كخ هطخ ، حطوخخ رخ ٣ؼـ ار٤ ل ػ حإلط٤خ رؼ ر
ولر ش٤و٣كألح ذخ٤ـح خا ٠ظك ، ظظؼر ٣٢ألح ٤ثح حءير زخر لظح ، اله حػخطظح ٠ظك ،
٣ .هش ك٤ظ ، ح١ ال ٣ي١ خ ح١ ٣ لخر أال ، حـع أ حإل٣ي أهؼظ ٤جخ ك٤جخ ، خ ح٥ ريءح ٣
. كظ٣لخط حهغ ح٤خش حأل٤٣ش حهل ، طق ػ ي هزخكش ؿ أكؼخ ك٢ كن حإلخ٤ش
ش ظل٣ ؼحص ح خ هال ح ٢ أر وش ك ؼ٣ ٤ش ح حػ ح ل ش ح ظ غ أ ٤ وخ١ ؿ زغ ا ظ ٣
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<span>
ح ل ش ح ظ غ أ ٤ وخ١ ؿ ش :ا ظل٣ ؼحص ح خ هال ح ٢ أر وش ك ؼ٣ ٤ش ح حػ
ل ظخ ح وخ١ الص ، ا زط ح ٤ ل ٠ ط ػ ظ ز ى هال حظ ٤ ظطخع ح ي ح ه
٢ ، ر ظخ ح ػخى ح ٤س ، ػ و خ ض ر ٤ ظس ل ٤خ طخ ٣ ٢ ر ٢ ك ح
خ لخ ح٥ ، ح خ طش ؤ١ ظغ ر ظ ١ ال ٣ خ ٢ ك ٢ ك ظخ ح وخ١ ح ب خح ر ه
، ػ ط لط ٣ ٠ا خ ح ـح خظ ؼر . ١ خػا ي ط ؼح دل خ ٤ ٠ألح ش ح ، ظ حػخط
ي ١ى ر خ ، ٢ أر ح ك خ ػ ١ ػخ ٤خ ، ح ٢ ١ ك ٤ و ح ل وخ١ ح ا
ل وخ١ ح ظطخػح ا خ ، ح ٤ ٤ػ٢ ا ح ل ٠خ ، اىهخ ح ٤خ أ٣ خ ٢ أ ١ ك ٤ و ح
ظيحد لض حال ٤ ط ط غ ك خى ل خ آه ح ٤ش ، خ ؼ ؼ ش ح زح٣١ وطح حإل أ
. ٢ طخ ز٣ ح
خ : ش أ٣ لض كخ٣ ٤ش ط خث ح ٢ حك وط٢ ك ح
ك٢ ( د ) ٣٢ألح ٤ثح ر ١ىخ ٣ خ ١ح خظح أ يـظ ، (23) أي ظص ا٠ حزط ه
حؼزخس لخ (حظخ حؼخ٢ حـي٣ي )ريح٣ش حظؼ٤٤خص رؼي ح٤خ حالطلخى حك٤٤ظ٢ ، ؿى طلض ل حال
ظرش أ٠٣خ ػ٠ حيال رخـش حالط٤٤ش ، ح ئ ػ٠ أ حوط ٢ أزق ك٢ حك حأله٤س ، ك٤غ أ ح
، ٤ ز حأله غ ه ؼخ ح زط خ رو٢ ػ٤ ا٠ يك حخث٢ ، طل٤ حزط٤ ح
. خوكال خل ٢ظح ، ١ىخظهالح ٢كخوؼح خ٤زخـر شؼخر ٤وؼظح خ ، (25) (24)
حوط ح٤ى١ حإخء حأل٤٣ حألحث ٣ ل
ى هطخ ٤ خ وخ ر ـء ح خ ح ش ح ؿ :أ٣خ حخىس :د ر٤خ٤ كح٤ أخ حـ ط
رخ ح٤ى ح حوط ح٤ى خي هط ز٤ ٣ظيى حال٣خص حظليس حأل٤٣ش كل٢ أ١ أ ٣ل
ح ظوهؼ٤ ػ٠ أل ػ٠ ي طخ٣و حط٣ ٣ؼ ػ٠ طي٢ حظ حألهاله٢ حظـخ١ ك٤خ ظ
٢ ك ؼ ح ٣ خ خ ر ٠خحط ٢ ك يـح ك ٣ خ ٤ ك ٤ ؼ ظ٢ ٣ ح ػ ػ حأل
٤خ . زخ ـخ ا زط ٢ ح ك خ ك خ خط خى٣ ظ ن حه ٤ش ه خ خس حألخص ح ٠ اػ خ ػ ى
٤ ل ٢ ١ى ل أػ ح ٤ ي ٠ ه ػ ز ٣ ش ؼ 0071 أل
( ٤ ط حأل ( ك ١ ب ٤ ح٥ ك ط ك ـد ) أػخى ٠ ( ح ظل ح ؼخ أ ح
زح ػي ٤ ٤ش ح لـؾ ح ح ح زخد حألػ ٤ حأل ؼ و ح ظ ٤و ل ٠ ح ػ
٤غ ظط ٤خص ال ط ٤ ل ط ٤ش ح ٤ ل خص ١ خث خح ؟ أل خ ٤ ؼىس ا ٢ ح ك ظ ز ؿ
٤غ ظط ال ٣ ٤خص أه ك ٤ ل ٠ ١ ل ػ ظط خ ٣ظيػ٢ حؼ٤ غ رؼ٠ حزؼ أ ط
ا ٣ طىح حال٣خص حظليس رؿذ .أ ر٤ أخ ؿ٤ ؿ س طحؿي ر٤ ح٤ل٤٤
رظي حألػيحى ٤ظحكي ا٠ ح حزي رؤػيحى ز٤س كب هال خثش ػخ ػ٠ حأله ح٥ حيظ
ل ف ٣لخ ٣ي خ ظ٢ ر خ ح ي٣ ل ش ح ظ ٤ أ ٤ ـ خ هال ط
خ خ أحك خث ٤ ى ل ٢ ح ـخ ٤ ح ٠ ح خ ػ ٤ي ١ ٤ أؿ ط ٤ ٣ حأل
خ لخى ب أك ش ح٥ ك ظ٢ خث ؼي ر ظ ١ى ٣ خ ا خط خ ك٣ خط ظ
ط زخع ر خ أؿ ا ٤ و ل ٢ ح ك ؼ ٤ ر٤خ ٣ـ ك٢ ه ؿ٤ر
ا ططىح خ أخ أك أ٣خ حخىس .رخ كي ؿال أرخف ٣ل أ٣ي٣ ككخ حؿظزخ١خ
غ أ ٣ؼ٤ ر٤خ أؿ٤خ كب أالى أكلخى ٤ؼ ك٢ هز ح٤ى ح حزي ا٠ حألري
ؼ ؼ كب كخلي حأله٢ ال ٣ طـ٤٤ حؼ٤خ خ حض طوظق ٤خ ، ػخ ٣ظل٠ ر حؼذ حأل٢٣
ئخطخ وخطخ حالؿظخػ٤ش وط ؿي د ى١ دؽ١ ى ف ٣ ؼ
وط ؼ ح ظ ١ ح خ ، ح ٢ أ٣ ك خء حألحث إ ٤ ح ح خ ك ظ . ي ى١ ح ٤ ح
خ أكيػ خ ٢ أر ك و ظخ٣ ظحط ظ خ ، هال ىح ٢ أ٣ ك ـ ـ ز ط ه
خ . ٤ هحد ك
:ألش ، ك٢ خ٣ش يط حثخ٤ش حأل٠ ( )ح ه هطخد حث٤ حأل٢٣ ا٢ أ ك٢ حألكن
ؼ ـ ٢ ط ٤ ؼ ش ط ٢ أ جخ ٤ جخ ك ٤ ظد و ش ط كوي ٢ أطـق ػ٠ الش ري١ أ
ا أ ٤ظطذ ػ٠ ي حلخى ا٠ أػ٠ حخذ أزلض ح٤خىس ٤جخص حخص حز
رخط ألخد إ حألح ٤ؼ ػ٠ اروخء ٤طط ػ٠ حيش ظوي٤ ك٢ ي خػ حؼذ طل
٠ ١١ صفص حىأد ىحدح سع فدص ٤ئى١ ا ١ ح ش حأل ٤ جش ه س ك
ش . ٣ ـ لط ح ط
ح ٤ ظ ي حؿ خ ، ه ٢ أ٣ ى ك ٤ ـ ح ـ ؼي أ ط ش ر ؼ 031 ز أ وطخد ه ح ح خ
زلح ٢ أ خ حأل٣ لخد إ ح أ ٤ش ، أل ؼخ ٤ش ح خ ث ظس ح ش ك يح٣ ٢ ر ٤ ك ث ح
ي١ ٤ ( ؿ ث ٤ ح ظ خ حؿ ى . ٤ صدؽ ، س١فحاح ؽحد ع عأ حىع ( ح
خ ح ، يح حأله ز ٤خ ح وخؽ ٢ غ ح ح ؼخ٣ ظ ؾ ح يحه خ ح خء أ٣ ز ر
. خث ى ك ٤ خ ح خد ح الص أر ط ٤خ غ ر ؼخ ظ ٣
ذ ، ك ه لظ ػ ظ ي ك خ ح خء أ٣ ظػذ إ ي١ ) ح ٤خ ( ظ ؼي حؿ ر ـإ أكي ٣
ح خ ؼيس ، ر ش حأل خك ٠ ػ ؼخط ط ى ط ٤ ؼخ غ ١كخص ح ظ ش ط ٤خ ؾ أ١ ٠ ػ
ى ٤ خط ى . هي ٤ ح ٤خى الء أل طخػش ح ح ك وي٣ ظ خػ ٣ ظوخر ح ك
ش ؼي ظ ٢ ال ط ٣ ٤ حأل ث ش ح زلض ٤خ ، أ ؼ س ٤ش ظخ خ ش ح ٤ ؼ هال حألر
د ؿ٤يح *** ) ش٣ال ش٣خ ٢ك ، ؽخوح هحيح ٢ك ى٤ خزؿ خطحػ دؼح ىخ٤طال ، (ح٤ي حي
ز ككخ ٢٠٣ هخؿخ حز٤ض حألر٤ ، *** ؿ٤ي ٣ ؼ ن ك٢ هزظ خخ ك٤ؼخ حي٣ق ح٤ى١ ، ك٤
٤ي ) خى١ **** ح ش ( ٣٠ ف ػ ٠ ػ ؼي ك ػيخ (٤ظ )ح٤ى١ ، خ ٣ هش ر
ح ك٢ ر٤ظ حألر٤ حوزش ـ يؼ ضخ ٢ظح ، (٢٣ )٢ ل كخ ح٠ـ٢ ػ٠ ظ٤خ ، كل شظل س
٢ زق ك ؤ ؼ ، ك ٤ي ال أ و٢ ى*** ٤ و ل ؼ ح ٠ ه ، ا حر ٠ ا ؤػخىط ك ظوخر ح
ؼ ٤خ أ ٤ ظ خ ش يس ث خ٣ ؼخ خػ ٤ ح ل حألر ق ر ٣ ، ل ش أ خ٣ ح
٤م ح خػخص ـ ٢ ه ، ك ي ظخص حث ٠ ك ظ ػ ؿ ظخص و ٠ أ ٣ ، ػ ظ أك٣
. ٤ ٤ض حألر ز ح ؼي هؿ ٢ ر ٣ حأل
غ...... ز ظ ٣
Fussy Glacée mella article!!!!!!!! yihlikhoum Rabi ki sousa la y5aliw la a5dhar la yebes!!
what fascinated me is kaleidoscopic nature of the assessement of this complex issue, the
intermingling of politics, religion, ethics,and theories. damn the world that is governed
by matter. We'r kinda garbage can for their rubbish. ama Rabi fil woujoud wmezelit
dhama2er 7aya. thx bro, very interesting, very useful :)
September 11, 2010 at 22:06
Today, Life is never the same
September 5, 2010 at 20:58
He was ill but showed us only love.
He was brave and taught us innocence.
Like a diamond, a soft star, a dove,
He used to laugh, smile without hinderance.
Where are you, dear, where have you gone?
Today, without you, life, can it be the same?
You passed away and left us to the distance run,
to the pain, to the rain, to sadness and to the blame.
A bird of Heaven you are now flapping your wings
away away from death from illness from time and place.
A bird of Heaven you are now with martyrs and angels
A bird of Heaven you were meant, Amine, for love and grace.
Cry the beloved people who know only the earth is round,
Cry the beloved people who are forever to surfaces bound.
Who knows?
September 5, 2010 at 19:58
who knows if the moon's
a balloon,coming out of a keen city
in the sky—filled with pretty people?
(and if you and i should
get into it,if they
should take me and take you into their balloon,
why then
we'd go up higher with all the pretty people
than houses and steeples and clouds:
go sailing
away and away sailing into a keen
city which nobody's ever visited,where
always
it's
Spring)and everyone's
in love and flowers pick themselves
E. E. Cummings
Peace and Blessings be Upon Him
September 5, 2010 at 18:23
Peace and blessings be upon him who
came down to us only to grant us mercy.
Peace and blessings be upon him who
harkened straight to the truth eternal.
Peace and blessings be upon him who
kept the word of God ever shining.
Neither the sun in his right nor the moon
in his left would have him derailed.
Tell that to the marines if the truth
can, because of them, be concealed.
Abraham, Moses, Jesus and Mohamed
I wish you could all know how close
you are to my heart while each to each are
my days bound with your love.
Chokri Omri
May your soul rest in peace, AMINE
September 4, 2010 at 18:39
May your soul rest in peace, Oh dear !
May it up ascend, ascend, brave child,
guided with light with angels, past fear,
as a lark's heading for Eden with pride.
You pulled your shawl carefully around you
and went before us you who came long after
to the forever green lands where you, Amine,
are part of its etrnal spring and love, Amine.
God knows better: our prayers have been sent.
God knows better: for your love we are in tears.
Dear, contritions and sorrows are for us mortals,
who know the price of everything the value of nothing.
What consolations are there for us who encounter
death many a time per day? What spring without flowers?
Mariem Dearwish Very well said Chokri, and very touching indeed.
September 4, 2010 at 18:41
Fussy Glacée so nice of ya chokri!!. don't worry for birds of heaven. They 'll be taken
care of. may God bless his pure soul.
September 4, 2010 at 20:53
Mariem Dearwish Amen!!
September 4, 2010 at 20:54
Chokri Omri Thank you dear Meriem and Wafa !! Eversince I knew Amine, I have truly
taken him as my little brother. Now, he has left us and May ALLAH grant him eternal
mercy and blessing. InchALLAH Rabbi ysabber Mr Lazher Bouazzi and his family. And
as you said, Wafa, Amine is a bird of Heaven.
September 4, 2010 at 21:15
Fussy Glacée Rabi y9awihoum wysabarhoum.
September 4, 2010 at 21:18
Chokri Omri Amin ya Rab.
September 4, 2010 at 21:22
Chokri Omri Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there, I do not sleep
I am a 1,000 winds that blow
I am the diamond glints on snow
I am the sun on ripened grain
I am the gentle autumn rain
When you awaken in the morning's hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled light
I am the soft star that shines at night
Do not stand at my grave and cry
I am not there; I did not die.
September 5, 2010 at 19:43
Ali Jemai amazing inspiration..
September 6, 2010 at 0:47
When to the sessions of sweet silent thought (William Shakespeare)
September 2, 2010 at 4:04
<span>
When to the sessions of sweet silent thought
I summon up remembrance of things past,
I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought,
And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste.
Then can I drown an eye, unused to flow,
For precious friends hid in death's dateless night,
And weep afresh love's long since cancelled woe,
And moan th' expense of many a vanished sight.
Then can I grieve at grievances foregone,
And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er
The sad account of fore-bemoanèd moan,
Which I new pay as if not paid before.
But if the while I think on thee, dear friend,
All losses are restored and sorrows end.
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That you were once unkind befriends me now (by William Shakespeare)
September 2, 2010 at 2:38
<span>
That you were once unkind befriends me now,
And for that sorrow, which I then did feel,
Needs must I under my transgression bow,
Unless my nerves were brass or hammered steel.
For if you were by my unkindness shaken
As I by yours, y'have passed a hell of time,
And I, a tyrant, have no leisure taken
To weigh how once I suffered in your crime.
O, that our night of woe might have remembered
My deepest sense how hard true sorrow hits,
And soon to you, as you to me then, tendered
The humble salve which wounded bosoms fits!
But that your trespass now becomes a fee;
Mine ransoms yours, and yours must ransom me.
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When in the chronicle of wasted time (by William Shakespeare)
September 1, 2010 at 2:33
When in the chronicle of wasted time
I see descriptions of the fairest wights,
And beauty making beautiful old rhyme
In praise of ladies dead, and lovely knights,
Then, in the blazon of sweet beauty's best,
Of hand, of foot, of lip, of eye, of brow,
I see their antique pen would have expressed
Even such a beauty as you master now.
So all their praises are but prophecies
Of this our time, all you prefiguring;
And, for they looked but with divining eyes,
They had not skill enough your worth to sing.
For we, which now behold these present days,
Have eyes to wonder, but lack tongues to praise.
Chokri Omri Not mine own fears, nor the prophetic soul
Of the wide world, dreaming on things to come
Can yet the lease of my true love control,
Supposed as forfeit to a confined doom.
The mortal moon hath her eclipse endured,
And the sad augurs mock their own presage;
Incertainties now crown themselves assured,
And peace proclaims olives of endless age.
Now with the drops of this most balmy time
My love looks fresh, and Death to me subscribes,
Since spite of him I'll live in this poor rhyme,
While he insults o'er dull and speechless tribes;
And thou in this shalt find thy monument,
When tyrants' crests and tombs of brass are spent.
William Shakespeare (sonnet 107)
September 1, 2010 at 2:37
Chokri Omri When I do count the clock that tells the time,
And see the brave day sunk in hideous night;
When I behold the violet past prime,
And sable curls all silvered o'er with white;
When lofty trees I see barren of leaves
Which erst from heat did canopy the herd,
And summer's green all girded up in sheaves
Borne on the bier with white and bristly beard,
Then of thy beauty do I question make
That thou among the wastes of time must go,
Since sweets and beauties do themselves forsake
And die as fast as they see others grow;
And nothing 'gainst Time's scythe can make defence
Save breed, to brave him when he takes thee hence.
William Shakespeare (sonnet 12)
September 1, 2010 at 2:48
Chokri Omri No, Time, thou shalt not boast that I do change.
Thy pyramids built up with newer might
To me are nothing novel, nothing strange;
They are but dressings of a former sight.
Our dates are brief, and therefore we admire
What thou dost foist upon us that is old,
And rather make them born to our desire
Than think that we before have heard them told.
Thy registers and thee I both defy,
Not wond'ring at the present, nor the past,
For thy records, and what we see doth lie,
Made more or less by thy continual haste:
This I do vow and this shall ever be:
I will be true despite thy scythe and thee.
William Shakespeare (sonnet 123)
September 1, 2010 at 3:19
Today's Beautiful Hadith is about ALLAH's promise
September 1, 2010 at 0:15
Abu Hurairah (May ALLAH be pleased with him) reported: The Messenger of
ALLAH (peace be upon him) said, "ALLAH the Exalted says: `I am as my slave
expects me to be, and I am with him when he remembers Me. If he remembers Me
inwardly, I will remember him inwardly, and if he remembers Me in an assembly, I
will remember him in a better assembly (i.e., in the assembly of angels).''
[Al-Bukhari and Muslim].
Today's Beautifiul Hadith is about Unjust Rulers
August 31, 2010 at 3:35
Narrated Ma'qil: I heard the Prophet (peace be upon him) saying,
"Any man whom Allah has given the authority of ruling some
people and he does not look after them in an honest manner,
will never feel even the smell of Paradise."
[Sahih Bukhari Volume 9, Book 89, Number 264]
Today's Beautifiul Hadith is about Death
August 29, 2010 at 18:45
The Prophet of Allah (sal Allahu alaihi wa sallam) said:
"When a deceased person is laid in his grave, he hears
the sound of the footsteps of people as they go away.
If he is a believer, the prayer will stand by his head,
the fasting will be to his right, alms to his left, and
all other good deeds of charity, kindness to relations,
and good behavior will be by his feet."
[Ahmad]
Spring
August 29, 2010 at 18:30
Spring is like a perhaps hand
(which comes carefully
out of Nowhere)arranging
a window,into which people look(while
people stare
arranging and changing placing
carefully there a strange
thing and a known thing here)and
changing everything carefully
spring is like a perhaps
Hand in a window
(carefully to
and fro moving New and
Old things,while
people stare carefully
moving a perhaps
fraction offlowerhere placing
an inch of air there)and
without breaking anything
Ghofrane Hseini ي ٤ي أل ٤ ى ........أك ٤ ح ض ك ٢ ه و٢ ك ي٣ خ ى ٣ ن ح ؼ ط
......٢ ١
August 29, 2010 at 18:32
Chokri Omri Thank you, Ghofrane. Yes we are. Some people, like you, are like flowers;
they give pleasure just by being !!
August 29, 2010 at 18:37
A Prophetic Hadith by ALLAH's Apostle ( Mohammed peace and blessings of
ALLAH be upon him) (posted by Chokri Omri)
August 18, 2010 at 23:51
Narrated Abu Huraira (RA): Allah's Apostle (SAW) said, "Allah said, 'All the
deeds of Adam's sons (people) are for them, except fasting which is for Me, and I
will give the reward for it.' Fasting is a shield or protection from the fire and from
committing sins. If one of you is fasting, he should avoid sexual relation with his
wife and quarreling, and if somebody should fight or quarrel with him, he should
say, 'I am fasting.' By Him in Whose Hands my soul is'The unpleasant smell coming
out from the mouth of a fasting person is better in the sight of Allah than the smell
of musk. There are two pleasures for the fasting person, one at the time of breaking
his fast, and the other at the time when he will meet his Lord; then he will be
pleased because of his fasting."
Sahih Bukhari, Chapter 'Fasting', Volume 3, Book 31, Hadith 128:
Percy Bysshe Shelley (posted by Chokri Omri)
August 15, 2010 at 0:13
Make me thy lyre, even as the forest is:
What if my leaves are falling like its own!
The tumult of thy mighty harmonies
Will take from both a deep, autumnal tone,
Sweet though in sadness. Be thou, Spirit fierce,
My spirit! Be thou me, impetuous one!
Drive my dead thoughts over the universe
Like withered leaves to quicken a new birth!
And, by the incantation of this verse,
Scatter, as from an unextinguished hearth
Ashes and sparks, my words among mankind!
Be through my lips to unawakened earth
The trumpet of a prophecy! O Wind,
If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?
ORIENTALE 3
August 7, 2010 at 11:52
they are
alone
he beckons,she rises she
stands
a moment
in the passion of the fifty
pillars
listening
while the queens of all the
earth writhe upon deep rugs
ORIENTALE 2 (Posted by Chokri Omri)
August 7, 2010 at 11:49
at the feet of
the emperor a cithern-
player squats with
quiveringgold
body
behind
the emperor ten
elected warriors with
bodies of lazy jade
and twitching
eyelids
finger
their
unquiet
spears
the queen of queens is dancing
her subtle
body weaving
insinuating upon the gold cloth
incessantly creates patterns of sudden
lust
her
stealing body ex-
pending gathering pouring upon itself
stiffenS
to a
white thorn
of desire
the taut neck of the citharede wags
in the dust the ghastly warriors
amber with lust breathe
together
the emperor,exerting
himself among his pillows throws
jewels at the queen of queens and
white money upon her nakedness
he
nods
and all
depart through the bruised air a flutter with pearls
E. E. Cummings
A prophetic Hadith about What to do to when you're Angry (posted by Chokri
Omri)
August 6, 2010 at 19:39
When someone is angry, mad, and reaches a state of having wrath against any person, he
should make a special Du'a. In doing so he will cool down . It is reported that the
Messenger of Allah ( peace and blessings of ALLAH be upon him ) said ( narrated by
Sulaiman Ibn Sard and reported by Bukhari and Muslim ) that while Sulaiman was with
the Prophet ( peace and blessings of ALLAH be upon him ), two persons were blaming
each other. The face of one became red and his jugular veins swelled. the Prophet ( peace
and blessings of ALLAH be upon him ) said; I know a statement if he or she say's it then
the person with anger will cool down.
The person with anger should say : "I SEEK REFUGE IN ALLAH FROM SATAN THE
OUTCAST."
Now (posted by Chokri Omri)
August 6, 2010 at 0:14
now does our world descend
the path to nothingness
(cruel now cancels kind;
friends turn to enemies)
therefore lament,my dream
and don a doer‘s doom
create is now contrive;
imagined,merely know
(freedom:what makes a slave)
therefore,my life,lie down
and more by most endure
all that you never were
hide,poor dishonoured mind
who thought yourself so wise;
and much could understand
concerning no and yes:
if they‘ve become the same
it‘s time you unbecame
where climbing was and bright
is darkness and to fall
(now wrong‘s the only right
since brave are cowards all)
therefore despair,my heart
and die into the ???
but from this endless end
of briefer each our bliss—
where seeing eyes go blind
(where lips forget to kiss)
where everything‘s nothing
—arise,my soul;and sing
Fussy Glacée °_°! so unlike u chekroun!! wassup!
August 6, 2010 at 0:21
Fussy Glacée i like it!
August 6, 2010 at 0:21
Chokri Omri Wafa, it is just the mere depiction of REALITY.
August 6, 2010 at 0:25
Fussy Glacée thought u were optimistic. but yes it's life. hope u r doing well dear
August 6, 2010 at 17:55
Chokri Omri I am optimistic when the elements of optimism are not wanting. I am not
realistic when Reality is beyond our endurance. But I am not pessimistic, Wafa. Life, not
this reality, allows no room for the pessimistic ilk and I am happy because I do not
belong to it. This poem, like its previous one (Freedom, Love, Dreams) can be read from
the modernist perspective, the structuralist perspective (notice the presence of binary
oppositions). So, I was expecting your reading of this poem to be a bit detached from its
author or poster (like me) and focus on the text itself which is enough. The text, again,
can be read as a comment on Reality vs Dreams, as a tool of resistance, as an outlet and
as a remainder.
Apart from that, thank you for your impressive attention and comments. Waiting to read
your texts and posts.
August 6, 2010 at 19:29
Fussy Glacée i wish I were taking fb seriously, the way u take it bro. some time u'll read
my texts, and I'll be glad to,as for my posts, u might wait too long b4 getting sth of real
value, but who knows? thx for the interesting stuff u share.
August 6, 2010 at 19:51
Chokri Omri Seriously !!?
August 6, 2010 at 19:53
Fussy Glacée :))
August 6, 2010 at 20:41
A man who had fallen among thieves (posted by Chokri Omri)
August 5, 2010 at 23:54
a man who had fallen among thieves
lay by the roadside on his back
dressed infifteenthrateideas
wearing a round jeer for a hat
fate per a somewhat more than less
emancipated evening
had in return for consciousness
endowed him with a changeless grin
whereon a dozen staunch and leal
citizens did graze at pause
then fired by hypercivic zeal
sought newer pastures or because
swaddled with a frozen brook
of pinkest vomit out of eyes
which noticed nobody he looked
as if he did not care to rise
one hand did nothing on the vest
its wideflung friend clenched weakly dirt
while the mute trouserfly confessed
a button solemnly inert.
Brushing from whom the stiffened puke
i put him all into my arms
and staggered banged with terror through
a million billion trillion stars
ORIENTALE (posted by Chokri Omri)
August 3, 2010 at 23:42
I
i spoke to thee
with a smile and thou didst not
answer
thy mouth is as
a chord of crimson music
Come hither
O thou,is life not a smile?
i spoke to thee with
a song and thou
didst not listen
thine eyes are as a vase
of divine silence
Come hither
O thou,is life not a song?
i spoke
to thee with a soul and
thou didst not wonder
thy face is as a dream locked
in white fragrance
Come hither
O thou,is life not love?
Fussy Glacée I spoke to thee with words and thou didst not answer... Come hither
O thou, is life not words loooool
August 5, 2010 at 12:12
)posted by Chokri Omri( ال ذذضى أتذا أتذا أتذا
August 3, 2010 at 23:18
ـــلــــ ال ط
ي ٤ي ٣ ذ ػ ز ٣ و ظ ي ح وك ٢ ، ٣ خ ػـي ح ل ٣ أل ح
ـــلــــال ط
٠ ؼ حأل ال ظ ف ، ٣ ح ل٢ ط ؿ ط ح ز ؼ ذ ، ٣ و ح ز و ل ٣ ال ح
ـــلــــ ال ط
ض ري حلخي ، ٣ـ٤ ػ٤ي حلوخثن حؼي ، ٣ـ٤ع حي٣ن ٣ ال حل ٣
ـــلــــ ال ط
ؼ ٠ ح ش ػ و ٠ حأل ٠خء ، هؽ ػ و ش ل وخ سأل ح
ـــلــــ ال ط
أل حل ال ٣ى لوىح ، ال ٣زؼغ ٤ظخ ، ال ٣ى هيح ، ال ٣ـذ لؼخ
ـــلــــ ال ط
ون ك زخ١ ل اك ١ ىحث ، ه و كخ ك ؤ ؿخػ ل ٣ ٤طخ ، ح ل ح خ ك
غ ٣
ـــلــــ ال ط
٣ ، ا ض ال طي ٤ش و كحى زظ حوي٤ ، ا ض ط آال ا ض كو٤ح كـ٤ى لز ك٢ ى
كخ٥ه هي ػ٠ حألس حز٠٤خء ، ا كويص يح كحى كوي ػيىح حألالى ك٢ كخىع حكي
ـــلــــ ال ط
ظف ل زخد ؼش ، ح ش ح ك خ ق ، ك ؤ ل ، ا أهطؤص ك ـ ظ خ ؤص ك ظذ ، ا ح زض ك ا ح
ظح ، ش ز و ش ر
ـــلــــ ال ط
٤ي ٤خي طظؼذ هزي ط الي ط ون أػخري ، ط
ؽ ***د خش ٤٠٣ن رخ حلظ٠ ػخ ػيهللا خ حو
خ ال ط لؽ ***خهض كخ حظلض كوخطخ ض خ ٣ظ ؿ ك
ـــلــــ ال ط
وي ح ، ح لؽ ٠خء و هغ حالهال ؿلض ، حلق ٣١ض ، كلي ال ٣وي ك٢ ححهغ ٤جخ ال ح
ئه ال ٣
ـــلــــ ال ط
ك٢ ؼ هللا حـ٤ش ، ك٢ أ٣خى٣ حـ٣ش ، أ ػ٠ حؼ ، هخ ػ٠ خ كخطي ، كب ػيى ؼخ ؼ٤ ، ك
خ " ل ش هللا ال ط ؼ ؼيح ٠ " ا ط ؼخ ط
ـــلــــ ال ط
٤ ؼخء ح ـ ؼخء حى ؿ ي ك ـحث ـالص ح لق ح ٢ ح ٤ش ك خ ؼ زخ١ ح ح ش أ ظخر
" ٤ظ ـ ح ر " ط ه
ـــلــــ ال ط
وي أ حزخ١ حلخى ، كبي ؤؿ وي كي ػ٠ زى ، ػ ا وي ٣خ١ ه٤ظي ، ػ ا حخ
زخ ٤ظخ ال طك
ـــق ــــال ط
كوض حظـلح ر ا خ ؿلخح ٣ حخء ػ٤ يحح ٣يى "أؼ حالظـلخ ، كب ري ؿل خ
" رؤح ر٤ ٣ـؼ ؿخص ٣ـؼ أخح
ـــلــــ ال ط
٣ ٣ و٠٠ ، حلز ٣ لي ، ل ، حي حـخثذ ٣ وي ، حؼخ٢ كب ح ٣ ، حخد ٣ل ، حذ ٣ـ
ظ٢ ٣ظد ، حلو٤ ٣ـ
ـــلــــ ال ط
ال طحهذ طكخص حخ كب ال ٣ ح ال لؼخ ، ال طخ ال ك٤خس ال ح ال ػحرخ ال ػوخرخ ،، هي٣خ
خ :ه٤ حهذ حخ خص
ـــلــــ ال ط
حإلكخ ا٠ حخ ٣١ن حؼخىسخ ىض ط ل ا٠ حخ ، ك ب
ـــلــــ ال ط
خ كب حلش رؼ أؼخخ ا٠ زؼخثش ؼق ا٠ أؼخف ؼ٤س ، ح٤جش رؼ
ـــلــــ ال ط
حى حظك٤ي ، كش هللا ، أ حوزش ، ػيى أ كذ هللا كذ ٠ هللا ػ٤ ، كؼيى كبض
٤ أ ي١ه ص ال ط
ـــلــــ ال ط
ػـزخ أل حئ ا أ ه٤ ٤ "كؤض ػ٠ ه٤ ك٢ حثي حثي ؿخى كوى يطي هخثي
حء كز خ ه٤ح حء ك خ ه٤ح ا حخرظ " ي اال ئ ، ا أخرظ
ـــلــــ ال ط
ح خدكب خى أزخرخ ط خثذ ػ٠ ح
ي :
خد " . -1 ٤ ك ـ ر أؿ خر ٠ ح ك خ ٣ ي هللا " ا ش ػ ؼر ح ظظخ حألؿ ا
ي . -2 ٤ ك خر ش ح إ٣
خ . -3 ٤ ؿ زش أ ٤ ا ح
زي . -4 ؼ ح ٢ ى٣ ض ك ٤ خ أ
" .... ػ٠ أ طح ٤جخ ه٤ "ا حو٤ هلل د حؼخ٤ -5
ـــلــــ ال ط
ؼ غ ح خك ؼ ح ؼف ح ؼ ح ش ك يه الس ح يػخء ح ح وآ ح يى ح ػ
ـــلــــ ال ط
ز ق أهأ أظذ أػ أظوز طؤ ال طظ ل ػ ٣١ن حلحؽ حؼطخ
ـــلــــ ال ط
غ ، و ٤ق ٣ ى لخد حأل ح خ ط ح٤ حز٤ ٤ق ٣ـ٢ ، حؼخلش ٤ق طيأ ؟ اح كيحثيى ا٠ أ
هللا خء ؼخء ، ا ٠ ي ا ز و ظ لخء ٠ ي ا ٤ هـخء ػ
ـــلــــ ال ط
ز أظض ح٥خ طوطؼض ري حلزخ كخى١ ه .. ح ح١ : اح رخص ري حل٤ خهض ػ٤ي ح
خ ف ٤ي حأل ر ض ػ خه هللااح ــخ ٣ : ظق ه ؤ ض ك خ ك ي ر ل ٤ي ض ػ خه ض ر
ــخ هللا .. ٣: خى١ ه ش ك خػ ض ح ؼ زش ؿ ض ح زش ك ٤ ؼض ح اح ه
ــخ هللا .. ٣ : خى١ ه ص أى ك ؼ ظ يى ح خم اح
ــخ هللا .. ٣ : ـخى١ ه ـ ــي ك ـخ ــحد أ يص حألر اح ح
*** وي طي حوطد حق هخط ى ؿ حي أؿز
***كظلض ك٢ حأللخ رخي خهخ رخ كـ كبح ل٤ خ
ي حألق ك٢ حأللخ ، حأل٣خى١ ك٢ حلخؿخص ، حألػ٤ ك٢ حخص ، حألجش ك٢ حلحىع ا٤ ط
د ط و ج ح ط ط خى١ ، ر ؾ ط ٤غ ط ـ ظ ط يح حأل ط خ حألحف ر
زخى " ؼ ٤ق ر ط ٤ " هللا و ٤ و ح ظ خد ٣ زى حألػ خػ ط يأ ح ط
هللا
" طؼ ٤ خ "أك حألخء أؿ حلف أيم حؼزخحص أػ حخص
هللا
كبح حـ٠ حزوخء حوس ح حؼ حويس حظ٤
هللا
" ح ف سع ىد ح "يى حى حإلكخ كبح حطق حؼخ٣ش حـع ح
هللا
زص ـ زش ح ٤ ش ح ؼظ ـال ح ح
هي٤ش طي رخ حألحف ***خ خ ك٢ ؿالي أككخ
خ حؼخ٢ ٣ـخ د ػي ؿال طيحف ***كألض أػظ
١آ ح ..حوف أخ ح كؤؿؼ خ حػش س ، ؿحء حل ح ػي
ـــــــــــخد ٣
حن ػ٠ حؼ٤ حخس ؼخخ أش ي ػ٠ حل ح٠طرش ٤ش أػزخ كظلخ ه٣زخ
ـــــــــــخد ٣
ال حخؾ ا٠ ح١ي ححثـ٤ ػ حز٤ ا٠ يحى ، ح أذ ػ خ اي ك٤خ حزخث ا٠ ى ،
ل ػ أ ، ح نوح خل ى١أ ح خ
ي ئح اال ٤ي ح اال ػ ظ ٤ي ح اال ا ي ، ح وف اال ي ح ؼ ر
٤ ؼ ح ٠ ؼ ح خ ٤ ض ي أ ش اال ر ؼخ ظ أل
Fussy Glacée ١آ ح
August 4, 2010 at 0:00
Freedom, Love, Dreams (Posted by Chokri Omri)
August 3, 2010 at 22:42
as freedom is a breakfastfood
or truth can live with right and wrong
or molehills are from mountains made
—long enough and just so long
will being pay the rent of seem
and genius please the talentgang
and water most encourage flame
as hatracks into peachtrees grow
or hopes dance best on bald men‘s hair
and every finger is a toe
and any courage is a fear
—long enough and just so long
will the impure think all things pure
and hornets wail by children stung
or as the seeing are the blind
and robins never welcome spring
nor flatfolk prove their world is round
nor dingsters die at break of dong
and common‘s rare and millstones flat
—long enough and just so long
tomorrow will not be too late
worms are the words but joy‘s the voice
down shall go which and up come who
breasts will be breasts thighs will be thighs
deeds cannot dream what dreams can do
—time is a tree(this life one leaf )
but love is the sky and i am for you
just so long and long enough
Lazhar Bouazzi "any courage is a fear" . . . "nor flat folk prove their world is round" !!
Thank you Chokri ! It' very considerate of you !!
August 3, 2010 at 23:29
Chokri Omri You are most welcome.
August 3, 2010 at 23:31
Abir Ben Salah thank You chokri ;)) glad to read such words from time to time, hope u r
doing well ;)
August 4, 2010 at 1:55
Chokri Omri You are welcome, Abir !! It is good to hear from you. I hope you are fine
and doing great. Thank you for the comment.
August 5, 2010 at 23:58
Abir Ben Salah i3aychek chokri :)) im doing ok hamdoula!! c u soon hopefully
August 5, 2010 at 23:59
Chokri Omri InchALLAH, Abir. Best wishes dear friend.
August 6, 2010 at 0:01
El Habib Louai Another subtle, sincere and somehow prophetic poem. Dreams mingle
with love in moments of longing and they do necessarily drive us crazy and sometimes
wonder if this life deserves to be lived. Thanks for the tag my friend.
August 11, 2010 at 14:46
LISTEN BELOVED (Posted by Chokri Omri)
August 2, 2010 at 0:23
listen
beloved
i dreamed
it appeared that you thought to
escape me and became a great
lily atilt on
insolent
waters
but i was aware of
fragrance and i came riding upon
a horse of porphyry
into the
waters i rode down the red
horse shrieking
from splintering
foam caught you clutched you upon my
mouth
listen
beloved
i dreamed
in my dream you had
desire to thwart me and became
a little bird and hid
in a tree of tall marble
from a great way i distinguished
singing and i came
riding upon a scarlet sunset
trampling the night
easily
from the shocked impossible
tower i caught
you strained you
broke you upon my blood
listen
beloved i dreamed
i thought you would have deceived
me and became a star in the kingdom
of heaven
through day and space i saw you close
your eyes
and i came riding
upon a thousand crimson years arched with agony
i reined them in tottering before
the throne and as
they shied at the automaton moon from
the transplendent hand of sombre god
i picked you
as an apple is picked by the little peasants for their girls
Fussy Glacée what is it in dreams and illusions that seems to bewitch u dear chokri?? I
donno why I found myself drawing an analogy between darwich's and Cummings' :)) thx
4 the tag. nice choice
August 2, 2010 at 12:03
Chokri Omri Wafa, your question is daunting. I like the analogy you have established
between the two poets. Actually, it will be interesting to make a comparative study
between them but the prospects are not encouraging at the level of time, place and
context. Nevertheless, I like the analogy. You are welcome Wafa.
August 2, 2010 at 20:01
This Carthage ! by Chokri Omri
July 26, 2010 at 20:25
may my heart always be open to little
birds who are the secrets of living
whatever they sing is better than to know
and if men should not hear them men are old
may my mind stroll about hungry
and fearless and thirsty and supple
and even if it‟s sunday may i be wrong
for whenever men are right they are not young
and may myself do nothing usefully
and love yourself so more than truly
there‟s never been quite such a fool who could fail
pulling all the sky over him with one smile
We do have time to look about things and manage our plans. Let us swing and fly
away high up and up and never go down till we reach Carthage. Do we need to
forget that Carthage is our country of origin? Do we need to forget that our task is
to protect and fortify Carthage? People abroad know Carthage better than we do.
But again, if one seems to find it incumbent upon him to say it without reservations,
isn‟t life too short to be wasted on things transitory and vain? Isn‟t life too short,
my brothers? Day unto day, we see, life wastes and wanes like a candle burning its
oils away till nothing but charred wick remains. Isn‟t it too short, my brothers? Let
us strive, dans un moment de répit, to figure it out. Life is a course and passage. It is
unclear for me to take it to mean something besides. From this it will surely ensue
the fact that we need to be very careful about it. One needs to be very careful about
his life lest it should turn out so unconstructively. And "if of life we keep a care, let
us shake off our slumber and beware." (William Shakespeare, the sonnets).
Why is it that we are always held blameable for things we have not done ourselves?
Why is it that we are always admonished for others‟ deeds and not for ours only? Il
me semble après tout que nous sommes pas de ceux qui posent les questions
jusqu‟au bout. Let us then flap our wings and fly away high up and up and never go
down. To fly away like the eagle whose own flesh, read this, as well as space is still a
cage. Let us try to forget this way of life and work very hard upon obtaining our
freedom. Freedom is so much needed and wanted if we are now to be very careful
about our lives. More importantly, let us set ourselves free from those habits that we
are very fond of calling ours. Always when anything gets to be a habit, it also
manages to get a right good distance from truth and fact. We have so many bad
habits. If only we could get them out of our lives with a view of living differently but
also of evaluating differently. This is, as a matter of fact, to be made and become
possible only after learning how to think differently. Some drastic and radical
changes are more than important to be implemented. Our lives will never but fall
into tedium and monotony if we are to do and act otherwise. Impossible de prendre
ce chemin. Mais pourquoi? Is it not possible to change and reconstruct ? L‟homme
a besoin de ce qu‟il y a de pire en lui pour atteindre ce qu‟il y a de meilleur en lui. Il
y a toujours, mon Dieu, quelque chose à faire. Alors, pourquoi rester dans les
ténèbres ? Il y a toujours quelque chose à faire sur cette terre. Soyons comme la
revière qui déborde et non pas comme l‟étang )what a shame !( qui contient
toujours l'eau même.
I am a failure if I keep on saying things against people. Que me fait le monde et ses
vains jugements? Armance would ask without waiting for an answer. For the
answer does already exist in the very asking of the question. Allons, allons, ça va
bien. I am speaking disrespectfully about society. It is too good to be true. If only I
could do otherwise. And after all, as Flaubert had held it in “SENTIMENTAL
EDUCATION”, nous n‟avons pas besoin de dogmes pour faire balayer les rues ! On
dira que je renverse la société ! ou‟ serait le mal? Elle est propre, en effet, ta société.
People added still more to its horror. Society, Let this be said with regard to you.
Oh ! Somebody, Victor Hugo would say, ought to take society by the four corners of
the sheet and toss it all into the air ! everything would be crushed, it is likely, but at
least nobody would have anything, there would be so much gained !
Maximillion Novak, to make it short, will direct our attention to Daniel Defoes‟ The
Review wherein one cannot possibly help sensing some sort of bitterness but also
and more significantly some sort of reacting set out against recalcitrance and
inaction.
“Dig, I cannot and to beg I am ashamed: what shall I do? An English Gentelman
would presently have said to himself, Do ! What should you do? Get a Horse, and a
case of Pistols; Is not the highway wide enough?”
After all, how many years of exile have we been forced to live in this happy life that,
as I would like to put it just for the fun of it, we take to be ours? How many years of
exile? Do we think it will do and be availed if we count them? Let us count them.
How many years of exile?
I counted with my fingers
Until I finished counting my fingers: ten.
I stopped counting then.
My exile can‟t be counted,
Outdoes the power of numbers.
I have landed in my country,
I am home again.
But nothing means anything.
The place is no longer that place.
My name on the old elm vanished,
I remember having carved it well with a nail
Till the tree bled.
The often-noisy street is now calm,
No shouting, no yelling, no laughter,
No children, no passers-by, no beggar.
Where is the horse in the neighborhood stable?
He must have died.
Horses, good horses, don‟t live long.
My mother‟s stove is dead, too.
No more blowing at fire,
No more adding of wood.
My father‟s grave in the cemetry
Is moss-infested.
It must have rained a lot this winter.
Everything is nothing today,
Only memory won‟t die.
Chokri Omri
MEDITATIONS
Copyright ©2010
(It should be noted that the poem I have brought the text into closure with is written
by my friend Mourad Mchiri. I have included it here by virtue of sense tempered
with meaning, and friendship.)
Chokri Omri "We here in the silence of Carthage, a city of human sacrifices, the rival of
Rome, wiped off the map of the world by the will of the Roman Scipio Émilien in the
second century before Christ. Today excentré neighborhood of Tunis, Carthage was a
city where African lived long before the old East to become one of the capitals of
Christianity (in the third and fourth centuries). Here East and West have continued to
speak, to fight, to meet, to love.
This story pays tribute to women who have carried the flag of the city, including Elyssa,
the founder, Phoenician came in the seventh century BC, and Hannibal men who were
known throughout the world. Carthage is a meditation on history, as time goes on the
war, the great fire of the world that is never extinguished, but historians (Herodotus,
Thucydides, Polybius) and literature. we depict Virgil to Saint Augustine, who long lived
in Carthage where he had his first experiences in love, Flaubert and that the city rose in
Salammbô disappeared." raniouchka-cartago
July 26, 2010 at 20:34
Waleed Khaldi Excellent, Chokri! Reading what u write is a great pleasure for me. You
just set forth lines of what I always have in mind; what I always strive to articulate, and
this relieves me so much.. Thank u, dear brother!
July 30, 2010 at 1:53
Chokri Omri Thank you Walid. I hope you are doing great, brother.
July 30, 2010 at 1:54
Waleed Khaldi I am fine, I am fond of being fine since "fine" is a problematic word.. It
tells much about who I am! :) No seriously I am ok dear Chokri, and I hope ur fine too.
Take good care!
July 30, 2010 at 1:57
Chokri Omri Thanks to ALLAH. I am fine elhamdolilleh. Rabbi yahfdhek Walid.
July 30, 2010 at 2:01
Waleed Khaldi Rabbi y5allik 5ouya Chokri!
July 30, 2010 at 2:03
Aneas Fer Dear Brother
I want to thank you first for having tagged me in your mediatations, and I'd like to tell
you how much I am overhelmed by your thoughtful meditations especially that they are
tinged with the Shakespearean scent. So fair your writing is, So MEANINGFUL your
meditations are !! Go ahead Chokri; it is an excellent piece of writing that I hold in high
esteem. Hope that you are doing great !!
July 30, 2010 at 2:31
Ali Jemai powerfuf and revolutionist view
u r right friend
one should reconsider things that have been nullified
or let me say " Choko go ahead"
u'r the coming knight of the angry generation...
thanks for tagging me
see u
August 3, 2010 at 18:47
When I was a Child (second part) by Chokri Omri
July 26, 2010 at 20:06
When I was a child, I had my own toys and I gave them to those children who were
around me and enjoyed it so much and hated it so much when those who thought they
were adults took them away from us but never kept them for their children. When I was a
child as I am now and still will be, I had had my own dreams that are now shattered and
torn and things do not fall apart. I had had my own programmes that are now forgotten
thanks to their obscurantist stratgies and ploys that they think are used for enlightenment
they want to enlighten us with their obscurantist strategies and ploys they are never
enlightened and those of them who serve as enlighteneres were never enlightened
because our reality is so dark, dark, dark, and they are insisting on themselves to be
believed and not only believed but also wanted and loved. Would it not be better, my
brothers, to protest like my brother Sobhi and say we are deceived we are the more
deceived and why not, my brothers, why not protest and be out of tune with their trivial
songs and sing our own? Would it not be more rewarding if we stop singing ― we don‘t
want your education‖ and then find our selves hypocrites and liars because we sing those
real songs and never profit from them that we are still the more, do you want some more?
You will be beaten like Olivert twist and what of it my goodness? Olivert twist is the
hero because he was beaten because he asked for some more food because he had been
hungry because he knew he would go on being hungry if he did not ask for some soup
because he was intelligent he never wanted to die while being hungry so he asked so he
was beaten so no body came to his rescue so he is loved so he is the hero so he is not my
hero because my hero is Sobhi because sobhi is not a fictional character so I love him
because I cannot do otherwise so ―Ich kann nicht anders‖? Olivert twist is a character
devalorized by the dark reality and yet valorized by Charles Dickens who is so intense
and intelligent enough as to go beyond this dark reality and select a poor character
victimized without reason and depict it in its most heroic form. But Dickens was so
sentimental again in that he soon and quickly effaced the heroism of his character and
wanted to have it for himself so he failed.
I would even dream like my brother Sobhi of Sindibad of persia and wait for him all day
long untiresomly to take me with him in his ship without giving a damn to dangers or
premonitions. My world was so small and infinitesimal but my soul so big and gigantic .
When I was a child, I would do exactly what my heart told me to do to the extent of
going against others‘ wills. Every now and then, I would rest in the sand oblivious to the
sun and imagine and imagine how things would really have been had we kept listening to
our hearts. What is happening these days? L‘etre humain a malheureusement substitué la
peur à presque toutes ses émotions. There is always this kind of retreat. On dit que mème
les hommes les plus hardis peuvent avoir peur. Mais à quoi bon rester toujours saisi par
la peur. Besides, Guy de Maupassant has this to add : Remarquez bien ceci, Messieurs.
Chez les Orientaux, la vie ne compte pour rien ; On est résigné tout de suite ; les nuits
sont claires et vides de légendes, les àmes aussi vides des inquiétudes sombrent qui
hantent les cerveaux dans les pays froids. En Orient, on peut connaitre la panique, on
ignore la peur. Then Maupassant has got also this to clarify about what people dubb fear :
La peur, c‘est quelque chose d‘effroyable, une sensation atroce, comme une
décomposition de l‘àme, un spasme affreux de la pensée et du cœur, dont le souvenir seul
donne des frissons d‘angoisse. Mais cela n‘a lieu, quand on est brave, ni devant une
attaque, ni devant la mort inévitable, ni devant toutes les formes connues de péril.
I do not really know what is happening these days. People fear one another and no longer
trust one another because they are changing all the time. They no longer blieve in what
the future is holding for them if they can just awake and build up for it being aware of it.
People are starting to lose faith in themselves without reason. They think that everything
is going badly everywhere and that hope is the word we give to dreamers who do not
know that our reality is irreparable. The Urban Apocalypse is here to sustain their fear
and keep it so inextricable and lively a part in their hearts; that with the disjointed
rhythms of contemprary life, the lack of stability, THE SCREECHING OF BRAKES,
and sudden death we are no longer to keep rosy dreams, high aspirations and great
expectations change our outlook towards life. Are we to give in then and give up the
struggle for life and continue living this death in life? Are we to exclaim on death to take
us away out of this world? No wonder real people who have a strong will will never
accept defeat. We are not made for defeat and therefore we will never degenerate into
allowing others to profit from this and then take advantage of our futility. It is a
temporary state beyond which we must traverse and remember it when we are through.
Of course, not with laxness and indolence, not with vain hopes, not with performance of
things transitory and worthless, not with poor imitation of others, not with ignorance we
are likely to attain our aspirations. We work together as a unified group never shaken by
the oppressing wind. A group together knowing what to do and what to avoid so as to
make strides without conflicts arising from selfishness and exploitation. A group together
defending its identity and fighting for its integrety. A group together analysing all things
illusive and then deciphering their causes and no longer allowing them to meet their
effects upon us. An all embracing awareness that success and progress are never the
product of one or two or ten individuals. They are the offspring of a whole group living
in a strong society preparing the ground for agreement not deriving pleasure out of
opposition and antagonism which always cater for toppling. We need to be in harness
with one another and be back in harness. Success and progress take time but failure and
backwardness take no time. We need to take better hold of life.
All I know is that what is taking place for the time being is of no service to us neither
now nor in the future. There is this kind of desolation always already altogether apparent
to the one who looks around with a view of comprehending but also of analysing what
people are like. It is as though they are determined to remain stuck in this social vicious
circle which always consumes without yielding any rewarding results. There is this
utterly disappointing disposition to do everything except what is of importance. No one
seems to give an air of looking beyond these perpetual anachronistic ideas which are
leading nowhere. People have made it lucid and clear the fact that they are not at all in a
position to change or even make the effort of understanding one another. But then, they
seem to have never been aware except of spying on and making fun of one another
oblivious to such things as unity and coexistence in tune and harmony with one another.
They are exchanging insults and grotesques while not knowing that in so doing they are
moving backward and then they refuse to be told or given an account of it compared to
what other people are doing. Take Europeans. It does not take some competence to notice
that they have always had this will and desire to look for uptodateness despite the great
trouble which is being taken for that. They have a lively faith in themselves and in
everything they are doing no matter how different and sometimes strange are their ways
of dealing with one another. They are not simply at ease with grotesque and empty talk.
After all, gone is the age of trivial and empty talk. Gone is the age of acting and make
belief. Here only accuracy and veracity whose benefit is for every one so within reach
and belief. Europeans are people of spirit and correctness. They will not hear of
humiliation or inferiority when compared to Americans for instance. Even when they are
found in an inferior position, there is this pride which they never cease to take in
themselves to the extent of bewildering Americans themselves who think they have made
it after all. This is why cummings would say that France has happened more than it is
happening and America is happening more than it has happened. This is understandable
given the fact that Europeans never wittnessed colonization or foreign domination. What
appears to them to be outdated and inaccurate will often take an artistic dimension and
then quickly spring back and turn out to be something accurate because modernized. As
for Americans, nowhere can a restive place where comfort and consolation are to be
enjoyed outside Europe. Paris is one perfect example there where Americans would
resort to at times of alineation and disillusionment. Paris the beautiful, Paris in whom our
souls live. Cummings and many others would sometimes scoff at the huge difference
between Paris and Newyork despite everything. This is to say that propriety is so
fundamental without which no wealth no technlogy no empowerment are to be of credit
and consideration. Propriety is, in one word, freedom. A community whose propriety is
effaced has no further claim of freedom. Asians have their own features on which
identity is kept intact. It is propriety that always comes to the foreground in order to save
people from deterioration. It is a source of motivation providing people with a propitiuos
ground on which to start and move forward without inferiority complexes. As far as we
are concerned, were any one to take the very liberty of asking me about our own
propriety, I would say it is grotesque and empty talk. It is not clear that there is another
thing beyond grotesque and empty talk of which we are the masters. It is as if we were
sort of living in seclusion and isolation compared to what is happening abroad. But since
things are never trivial in themselves, our ways of looking at them are more often than
not so. Our propriety lies in having absolutely none which implies the lack of freedom
from which we are constanty suffering and the repercussions of which we are always
wrestling with. This is why I always insist upon freedom in its various shapes to be
sought for no matter how exorbitant the price to be paid and the effort to be invested will
be for the sake of obtaining it. If there is anything that is so damaging and crippling then
it is this feeling of not being free to do or even say things. When people are left to their
own resources without restrictions and limitations, success and progress will become
thinkable and an entreprise which is possible. Today, people are not at any rate allowed
to be aware of that. But who said that we are not free? Don‘t we see how free we are in
producing grotesque and empty talk? Don‘t we see even how free we are in not being
free? We are not even free to say that we are not free let alone to ask for freedom. But
freedom is not something people should ask for. It is their very raison d‘etre and essence
of being. The Dasein of people is freedom. Il faut également et par voie de conséquence
mettre et placer le Dasein sur ses bases et devant ses abimes. But then, it is worth
pointing out in this respect of freedom the fact that le Dasein de l‘ homme est en soi déjà
inséré dans le Dasein des autres. C‘ est-à-dire qu‘ il n‘ est tel qu‘ il est que dans un etre
ensemble avec les autres, pour et contre les autres. But then time and again, it is by no
means to be forgotten the fact that Freedom is within us and each one of us black, red,
yellow, and white is expressing it differently. It shall never cause any one any harm as
long as no one is hurting the other which normally should be and must be his brother.
Dites la vérité, aussi amère à dire soit-elle. Dis: Je crois en DIEU. Ensuite observe la
droiture. Dites du bien vous gagnerez et taisez le mal et vous en serez saufs. Nul ne
prévaut sur quelqu‘ un d‘ autre que par la foi et l‘ œuvre pie. N‘ a pas de fois qui n‘ est
pas digne de foi et n‘ a pas de piété qui ne respecte pas son pacte. Nul d‘ entre vous ne
peut prétendre à la foi jusqu‘ à ce qu‘ il aime pour son frère ce qu‘ il aime pour sa propre
personne. Who do we think said this and insited upon it to be translated into actions and
deeds ? God knows better than we do. It is our Prophet Mohammed peace and blessing
be upon him.
We are living in the same universe and this universe is created by God the almighty. If
there is one single TRUTH, then it must be ALLAH. No one will give you freedom, I do
not know who said this, no one will give you anything. If you are a man, you take it. This
is what I will say.
I, sometimes, find my self overwhelmed with a feeling of pity towards ourselves with no
exception worth of mentioning. But why pity? Pity has and should have its curiosity. A
feeling of pity but also one of contrition I do not escape from except when I start
watching over my own self regarding what others are thinking of themselves and of me.
This is something, I believe, which can not easily be helped because there are some
people who keep on looking down on others without reason. Is it because they have more
money in their wormy wooden drawers? Is it because they know more than others do? Or
is it because they find pleasure while behaving that way? In whatever case, they
absolutely have no reason whatever to do so. We are human beings. This is quite enough
and sufficient. But is it enough to be human beings? We have to be free which is quite
contradictory. We want to be free to decide for our selves whether or not we will be free.
There it goes, life will not possibly stop in order to wait for us to wake up and do
something fundamental in it. It will not possibly stop like this and all of a sudden. Then,
it is very probable that time will not, in its turn, serve us to move through life
unproblematically. Time is not with us for the time being. But nevertheless, the scuffle
must be fought till the end given the fact that we are not made for defeat. A man can be
killed but never defeated. This is why I always insist and say that we should never accept
compromises. They are the name we give to our defeats and failures. Compromises are
the causes of the absence of freedom. We can possibly hang on a compromise of lunch
and dinner but never on one of life. There is still hope of a better way of life provided
that we take better care and take a studious responsibility for the conduct we choose in it.
There remains, I do not know where Faulkner gleaned this from, yet something of honor
and pride, of life.
All that any man can hope for nowadays is to be permitted to live the way he intends for
himself and then have the things he would like most to have. By way of inquiry then, is it
too much for a human being who has come to life with hope and honor to ask for his life
to be spared? Is it too much for him to long for a better kind of living rather than
existing? Isn‘t it unfair, let us suppose, to cause people to live in misery and deprivation
where the possibility is most often there to save them? Haven‘t we been deprived all
those years when our guests ( most of them do not like to think they are so) took
whatever they wanted to take from us? It is our fate and we can do nothing about it. This
is what they say. This is ELMEKTOUB from which there is no hope for escaping. There
is nothing to escape from except from oueselves. There is also nothing to escape to
except to ourselves. Let us grab hold of life once and for all because otherwise, it will not
grab hold of us. Let us try rather than wait and see whether or not life is to be bestowed
on and offered to us. Let us remind ourselves every now and then of the fact that nothing
is to be done without trying except lying down and dying. We are apt to lose many things
except real life. Everything would probably come and go except life and death without
taking, of course, into consideration commencement and finality. Once life is gone, it
will be the end of us. We have it for the time being and therefore, we must not throw it
away for no good thing. It is real life I am talking about not this present one that sounds
like death. Que la mort eu‘t été préfèrable dans ses instants. These are not the words one
should say regarding his life. These are not the words to be said by real human beings
who know that, as I said, life is a wild and bitter struggle in the course of which we are
going to prove our existence before passing and fading away. Il fallait, à présent, se
montrer énergiques et prudents, et chercher les moyens de vivre et de s‘aimer toujours
sans éveiller aucun soupçon. The alternative I must, we must come up with, is the
following: Que la vie eu‘t été préfèrable dans ses instants.
It is our lives with which we are so much preoccupied and we do not intend to meddle
into others‘ lives where meddling is not wanted. Let us take responsibility for our lives
before starting to tangle with what is besides. It is not an easy thing to do in so long as
the truth comes to be concerned. We have to do everything in order to make this and
propel it and drag it out even forcibly towards the light. For as things do have a strange
way of turning out so badly, they also have a good way of turning out so well. All is
required from us is to work hard and hope for a better perspective, a better horizon. We
have to struggle for better times on the cess of which we do not just coexist together
peacefully but more significantly we coexist together harmoniously. It is not, we know,
so easy a task to be undertaken but it is not within the province of impossibility.
Chokri Omri
MEDITATIONS
Copyright ©2010
Fussy Glacée chekroun is it by mere chance that u introduced us to the second part of this
note before u provided the first?? if it's intentional, then let me tell u that i loved it
immensely. if it's not, das machts nichts :)
u had in mind oliver twist,... I had in mind Pip (gr8 expectations) who elucidates fear in a
terrific way. To be honest with ya, I'm seized by fear for my self and for pple i love and I
don't appreciate it either, but sometimes I'm grateful it's there. fear is social, religous,
political and personal. we should not chicken out when it comes to our birth rights and
personal freedom, but i guess it is needed as a social constraint for freedom, if taken too
far, might cause damages. Besides it's human buddy. U acquire it with birth and u keep it
as long as u feel responsible for urself and for others. P.S:I know we might not be
holding the same concept of fear (for u rather mean the political one ;))
Can I keep a copy of this?? coz i enjoyed it?? u know even if u said no I'll do it anyway
loool :pp
July 27, 2010 at 14:06
Chokri Omri It is such an intense feeling of joy embracing to read your comments Wafa.
The first part of "When I was a Child" has been introduced long before this second part.
Perhaps you did not pay attention to it. To recuperate, I will tag you in it then. If you
want to keep a copy of it, please do it. For you are welcome all the time.
July 27, 2010 at 19:05
Fussy Glacée ok, done dear, thx
July 27, 2010 at 19:32
)a poem from Arabia( ملحأ مل
July 17, 2010 at 0:36
أك
غ خ ح٠ خ ٣ظخه٢ أ كال٢، أ ظز
خء ذ ح ٢ ١ حف ك ٢ حإل ػط
أ ػظف رؤ٢ طؼزض ١ .ححد
ا٠ آه١، حل ح١ ٣ؼ٤ي٢ ا٠ أ
عأ» .ى أ ظو٢ ك٢ أ١ زخف
لخف ١ .«٢ ألطـ ذ حو٤زشأكال٢
، ػ٠ ك٤ حل أ ط خ ال ٣
٠، ر أ ال طؼ أي ظ ط٤س ح
ل. ٤ق ط ؼف ٤ي أ ط ، ػ . ل ط
و لخ ، كخ٤وظش ٢ ححهؼ٢ حو٤خ٢
ش ظؼخ٤ش ؼ خخ خء ـ ػىس ح
٢ ك خ. ط ز ٠ أ ال ط ح
ؼ٢ أ ال أك ج ظخ أكال٢، أه
...رخ ال ٣ظلو ن، ؤ أ وخ آه
٣ل رؤ ٣ حلم ر٤ ك٢ ٣
ل ٤ظخ ، ر٤ ٤ض ٣ ل ك٤ خ ؟
، ك٤ ال أك أ ه ح ك٢ :خ أ
أك، ك أ ه »
٤جخ ؟
Fussy Glacée u picked one of my favourite poems dear. Love it so much that i donno
what to say and not to ruin the flow of sensitive and powerful words with my reckless
talk I suggest:
٢ء , ٠ ال خ ا ؤه ٢ء ٣ ال ح
هخ ا٠ حال٢ء رلؼخ ػ ؼخ٤ ... كي
ىخ حال٢ء ٢ء ٣ز حال٢ء كـ
ال ٤ش ح ؼ ز ٠ ػ خ ا و ظ خ ٢ءك
٤ جخ ...ك أهق ٢ء ٣
٣لذ حؼزي ١خؿ٤ش
خرش حال٢ء ك٢ ط ئ أل
٣
٢ء ٠ ظ ػ خر وطض اح
٣ح حؼزي ث٤ خ ػخى٣ خ
حؼزي ١خؿ٤ش ح ك ٤
ال ٢ء آه .... ٣ط
... ح ٣ظخ حال٢ء ال ٢ء آه
خ ى , حال٢ء ح ح٤ ي حظـي
ى ,حظؼي ,حظـز حؽ ,حظز
ؽ ح ء١حح ح ....ح
ك٤ ش خ ػش ر
أ ١خهش زطش
,أ ظ رخ خه
خ ! ظ ق كخ ٢ ك
July 26, 2010 at 19:36
Fussy Glacée aaah ey, I have to say that i do really appreciate the tag. thx man ^^
July 26, 2010 at 19:37
A cummingesque poem for you and me (adapted and posted by Chokri Omri)
July 12, 2010 at 23:41
a wind has blown the rain away and blown
the sky away and all the leaves away,
and the trees stand. I think i too have known
autumn too long
(and what have you to say,
wind wind wind—did you love somebody
and have you the petal of somewhere in your heart
pinched from dumb summer?
.
.
.
the last leaf whirling in the final brain
of air!)Let us as we have seen see
doom‘s integration.........a wind has blown the rain
away and the leaves and the sky and the
trees stand:
the trees stand. The trees,
suddenly wait against the moon‘s
face.
A poem for wonder (posted by Chokri Omri)
July 6, 2010 at 14:54
―right here the other night something
odd occurred‖ charlie confessed
(halting)―a tall strong young
finelooking fellow,dressed
well but not over,stopped
me by ‗could you spare three cents please‘
—why guesswho nearly leaped
out of muchtheworseforwear shoes
‗fair friend‘ we enlightened this stranger
‗some people have all the luck;
since our hero is quite without change,you‘re
going to get one whole buck‘
not a word this stranger replied—
but as one whole buck became his
(believe it or don‘t)by god
down this stranger went on both knees‖
green turns red(the roar
of traffic collapses:through
west ninth slowly cars pour
into sixth avenue)
―then‖ my voice marvels ―what happened‖
as everywhere red goes green
—groping blank sky with a blind
stare,he whispers ―i
ran‖
Waleed Khaldi This poem is about wondering, and what I appreciate most in it is that it
makes me wonder! I feel overwhelmed by a magic spell it casts on me!! Thank u dear
Chokri! Really proud of u
July 6, 2010 at 15:46
Lazhar Bouazzi thanks, Chokri,for this beautiful poem !!
July 6, 2010 at 22:49
Chokri Omri Thank you Walid. And you are welcome dear teacher. I am so happy
because you like the poem.
July 7, 2010 at 0:51
Aneas Fer @Chokri: dear u know very well that I am a huge fan of ur publications !!! I
beg you honour, identify me !!! I ll be really euphoric !!!
July 7, 2010 at 1:31
Aneas Fer So fair and So intense the Poem !!! GREAT !!!
July 7, 2010 at 1:31
Chokri Omri Thank you so much Anis. This is so kind of you dear brother. You are
always welcome without identification. Always feel at home in my profile.
July 7, 2010 at 1:37
Aneas Fer I know friend that !!! yet, identification is more special !!! XDD
July 7, 2010 at 1:48
٢ أ٣ !what a wonderful moment of metamorphosis ؿخر
September 24, 2010 at 21:26
Helen Thomas by Ahmed A Jadallah (posted by Chokri Omri)
July 2, 2010 at 21:34
On Behalf Of Every Palestinian And Every Free Living Conscious, We Write To You
Helen Thomas Over the years, you were an outstanding reporter covering the news from
the white house and we always waited for your question. Now you ask a fair question and
they know the answer and the free conscious people around the world... know the answer
as well. But surprisingly, there is no answer and that is the ultimate cover up of the truth.
What you asked is a small question from the truth and it shows the double standard and
the hypocritical lies of the 21st century. As you know the truth always hurt the aggressor,
the suppresser and the occupier. They do not want the truth to come about or to see the
day of light by all their means and they even want to silence the question of the truth. We
admire your courage, facts, and your statement and we truly liked you over the years but
from now on you earn our love and respect. You should continue the line of questions by
asking why they did not sign the nuclear proliferation treaty, why they still occupy
Palestine, what is happening to the Palestinian refugees, the unfairness of covering the
Palestinian issue, why they continue the confiscation of the Palestinian land and water,
why they are still building settlements on Palestinian lands, why they are still massacring
and killing Palestinian people in many ways and even by poisoning their water and aqua
far, when the siege will be lifted from the occupied land, why they are depriving the
Palestinian people the right to exist, to have their sovereign country and their legitimate
right, when they are going to free14000 prisoners from their prisons, when they will
allow the return of the refugees and much much more?
Ahmed A Jadallah
Chokri Omri Helen Thomas, the doyenne of the White House press corps for over 30
years, has covered the administrations of ten presidents in a career spanning nearly sixty
years. She is is the dean of the White House press corps. The recipient of more than forty
honorary degrees, she was honored in 1998 with the inaugural Helen Thomas Lifetime
Achievement Award, established by the White House Correspondents' .
July 2, 2010 at 21:51
Chokri Omri Pour ceux qui ne la connaissent pas.C'est une journaliste
americaine(d'origine libanaise)elle est connue pour etre la dame de la presse de la
capitale des Usa washington .elle est attachee a la maison blanche et elle est respectee par
ses collegues journalistes et crainte par les presidents americains et surtout Bush (pere et
fils).elle a ete viree dernierement a cause de son intervieuw sur Israel.
question d'un rabbin membre du puissant lobby juif :
Que pensez vous d'israel ?
Hellen Thomas: israel doit @#$%& le camp de la palestine
le rabbin : Oh et ou vont ils les israeliens?
Hellen thomas: retourner chez eux
le rabbin ou?
Hellen Thomas:chez eux en pologne ,allemagne et meme aux Usa.
July 2, 2010 at 21:51
e.e. cummings, a poem (posted by Chokri Omri)
July 2, 2010 at 21:24
the first of all my dreams was of
a lover and his only love,
strolling slowly(mind in mind)
through some green mysterious land
until my second dream begins—
the sky is wild with leaves;which dance
and dancing swoop(and swooping whirl
over a frightened boy and girl)
but that mere fury soon became
silence:in hunger always whom
two tiny selves sleep(doll by doll)
motionless under magical
foreverfully falling snow.
And then this dreamer wept:and so
she quickly dreamed a dream of spring
—how you and i are
blossoming
i thank You God, a poem by e.e. cummings (posted by Chokri Omri)
June 30, 2010 at 2:45
i thank You God for most this amazing
day:for the leaping greenly spirits of trees
and a blue true dream of sky;and for everything
which is natural which is infinite which is yes
(i who have died am alive again today,
and this is the sun‘s birthday;this is the birth
day of life and of love and wings:and of the gay
great happening illimitably earth)
how should tasting touching hearing seeing
breathing any—lifted from the no
of all nothing—human merely being
doubt unimaginable You?
(now the ears of my ears awake and
now the eyes of my eyes are
opened)
Fussy Glacée wish u know how good it is to start the day with these lovely words, with
new hopes and a fresh spirit chekroun ^^ Thx dear.
would i look like a silly girl if I said: "what a beautiful kid!!!!"? ;)))
I'd just add "thank u God for Chokri's friendship"
June 30, 2010 at 9:55
Chokri Omri Wafa, I am short of words!!! You are giving me new reasons for my
admiration of your sincerity, goodness and wondrous personality. Rabbi Yahfdhek
wywafkek. Thank you for being my friend.
June 30, 2010 at 14:18
El Habib Louai Deep thoughts expressing the thankfulness that one feels to the great
supreme power that so many ones chose to neglect. This is another well-wrought poem
my friend and it's so comforting just to stop by and read it. It is such a self-conscious
poem and therefore releasing one of all that existential angst that we happen to feel in
moments of haziness. I love the way E E Cummings play with words, forms and shapes
of letters. It's just so inspiring and you managed to imitate him. Thanks for the tag my
friend.
June 30, 2010 at 23:33
Akim Saletak Lelleh waaaaaaaaw thx
July 1, 2010 at 0:47
Chokri Omri Thank you dear friends. I am honored by your sensible and sensitive
reception of the poem. Pray receive the best and warmest of my regards and wishes.
July 1, 2010 at 1:08
Lazhar Bouazzi Thank you so much, Chokri, for the poem and the tag !!
July 1, 2010 at 17:01
Chokri Omri You are welcome dear teacher.
July 2, 2010 at 18:38
A poem by e.e. cummings (posted by Chokri Omri)
June 30, 2010 at 2:35
when faces called flowers float out of the ground
and breathing is wishing and wishing is having—
but keeping is downward and doubting and never
—it‘s april(yes,april;my darling)it‘s spring!
yes the pretty birds frolic as spry as can fly
yes the little fish gambol as glad as can be
(yes the mountains are dancing together)
when every leaf opens without any sound
and wishing is having and having is giving—
but keeping is doting and nothing and nonsense
—alive;we‘re alive,dear:it‘s(kiss me now)spring!
now the pretty birds hover so she and so he
now the little fish quiver so you and so i
(now the mountains are dancing,the mountains)
when more than was lost has been found has been found
and having is giving and giving is living—
but keeping is darkness and winter and cringing
—it‘s spring(all our night becomes day)o,it‘s spring!
all the pretty birds dive to the heart of the sky
all the little fish climb through the mind of the sea
(all the mountains are dancing;are
dancing)
"The Accostive Martyr" posted by CHOKRI OMRI
June 26, 2010 at 23:47
Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there, I do not sleep
I am a 1,000 winds that blow
I am the diamond glints on snow
I am the sun on ripened grain
I am the gentle autumn rain
When you awaken in the morning's hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled light
I am the soft star that shines at night
Do not stand at my grave and cry
I am not there; I did not die.
Chokri Omri A martyr poster proudly hanging in this carpenter's shop. Palestinian
martyrs are generally young men who have been killed by the Israeli military as they
stand up for Palestinian rights. They are a common sight in shops, homes, and public
places around the West Bank.
June 26, 2010 at 23:48
Ali Jemai they are women and men of wonderful determination..
is this your poem? I 'll not be surprised !!
June 27, 2010 at 16:09
Chokri Omri ى ٤ ر ل ٠ ح هللا ػ للش
http://www.facebook.com/Rassoul.Allaah
؟؟... ظ ز ٣ ؼ ـ ٤ي ٣ ح ح ٣ خ ح
A wonderful video by ALLAH's will.
June 30, 2010 at 14:43
Chokri Omri ١٤د ف سىح حمأ ح حك خ أك ح ى ٣
June 30, 2010 at 14:44
A word of love by CHOKRI OMRI
June 25, 2010 at 14:15
To love means to act and not to just say empty words that would add more horror to life.
Call it as you like but love is more than what people think. There is, this is it, more to
love than what many people think. It is the most important thing in life. To love, J.
Krishnamurti wrote, means to be sensitive. To be sensitive is to feel for people, for birds,
for flowers, for trees_ not because they are ours, but just because we are awake to the
extraordinary beauty of things. We are awake through knowledge and not through
ignorance and fear. Love is capable of making wonderful things. It is capable of
changing evrything by the way. Love of knowledge with which we will be in a position
to love better and not and no longer say empty words and do empty deeds. It is, to make a
long story short, that which whose power energizes our minds and hearts and establishes
a perfect way of interaction and excahange between them. Let us think about love and
feel it
henceforth.
Amira Rammah Chokri you're great
June 25, 2010 at 20:06
Chokri Omri Amira, dear friend, this is so kind of you. We are paying respect to the
Great.
June 25, 2010 at 22:50
Chokri Omri being to timelessness as it‘s to time,
love did no more begin than love will end;
where nothing is to breathe to stroll to swim
love is the air the ocean and the land
(do lovers suffer?all divinities
proudly descending put on deathful flesh:
are lovers glad?only their smallest joy‘s
a universe emerging from a wish)
love is the voice under all silences,
the hope which has no opposite in fear;
the strength so strong mere force is feebleness:
the truth more first than sun more last than star
—do lovers love?why then to heaven with hell.
Whatever sages say and fools,all‘s well
e.e. cummings
July 1, 2010 at 1:58
A letter to my Bonnie Lass by Chokri Omri
June 19, 2010 at 2:03
Darling, here is our story making a romantic poetic attempt at disclosing all that it has
kept hidden within itself. It is, believe me, time to propel it to see the light of which it has
painfully been deprived. I prefer, following the path of an honest hearted duty doing man
named G.M.Coetzee, to be the writer of my own story rather than to have lies told about
me. It is always decent to opt for the light and then work arduously upon it rather than
remain cloistered within darkness, waiting for the unknown to become known, and
nobody is found around to help. It was not long ago that this was cropping up in my
mind. But in truth, i am the one who aspired it to be and desired it then to finish up this
way. I strove many a time to consider it the proper thing for me to learn not to wait for
others to offer me that which i need to obtain by my self without their help.
Darling, have i not loved you with a love that was more than love? Have i not, then,
caused it to be highly clear for me and you that the kingdom of love is not so far away
from our grasp? But darling, how can i stop the whole thing?
They told me i am not of this age, i need to
Change.
But i laughed and heard them no more my
Darling.
I laughed and thought it was completely
Strange.
How can it be, darling, that i am to live
Without my spring?
How can it be that i am to live and reach that
Stage?
I feel it truly, birds are meant to fly and sing.
Tears always come to my eyes when i see them
In a cage.
Darling, i will never stop anything.
If it be my will, let me say it without causing
Your rage;
I will help birds soar again and swing.
If it be my will, let me stop pertaining to this
Age.
My Bonnie Lass, we shall say in the words of Friedrich Holderlin:
"Let us live, oh you who are with me in sorrow, with me in faith and heart and loyalty
struggling for better times!
For such we are and if ever in the coming years they knew of us two when the spirit
matters again
They would say: lovers in those days, alone, they created their secret world that only the
Gods knew.
For who cares for things that will die, the earth will have them, but near the light, into the
clarities come those keeping faith with the heart's
Love and Holy spirit who were hopeful, patient, still
And got the better of fate."
Note that the title makes use of classical english (Bonnie Lass) meaning in modern
english "Beautiful Beloved". The aim of this use is intended to evoke the timelessness of
Beauty and Love however shifting are the words we deploy to refer to
them.
Chokri Omri Beautiful beloved!!!
June 24, 2010 at 21:12
Why Silence? By Chokri Omri
June 16, 2010 at 2:02
I, sometimes, find myself overwhelmed with a feeling of pity towards ourselves with no
exception worth of mentioning. But why pity? Pity has and should have its curiosity. A
feeling of pity but also one of contrition I do not escape from except when I start
watching over my own self regarding what others are thinking of themselves and of me.
This is something, I believe, which can not easily be helped because there are some
people who keep on looking down on others without reason. Is it because they have more
money in their wormy wooden drawers? Is it because they know more than others do? Or
is it because they find pleasure while behaving that way? In whatever case, they
absolutely have no reason whatever to do so. We are human beings. This is quite enough
and sufficient. But is it enough to be human beings? We have to be free which is quite
contradictory. We want to be free to decide for our selves whether or not we will be free.
There it goes, life will not possibly stop in order to wait for us to wake up and do
something fundamental in it. It will not possibly stop like this and all of a sudden. Then,
it is very probable that time will not be, in its turn, of service to us to move through life
unproblematically. Time is not with us for the time being. But nevertheless, the scuffle
must be fought till the end given the fact that we are not made for defeat. A man can be
killed but never defeated. This is why I always insist and say that we should never accept
compromises. They are the name we give to our defeats and failures. Compromises are
the causes of the absence of freedom. We can possibly hang on a compromise of lunch
and dinner but never on one of life. There is still hope of a better way of life provided
that we take better care and take a studious responsibility for the conduct we choose in it.
There remains, I do not know where Faulkner gleaned this from, yet something of honor
and pride, of life.
All that any man can hope for nowadays is to be permitted to live the way he intends for
himself and then have the things he would like most to have. By way of inquiry then, is it
too much for a human being who has come to life with hope and honor to ask for his life
to be spared? Is it too much for him to long for a better kind of living rather than
existing? Isn‘t it unfair, let us suppose, to cause people to live in misery and deprivation
where the possibility is most often there to save them? Haven‘t we been deprived all
those years when our guests ( most of them do not like to think they are so) took
whatever they wanted to take from us? It is our fate and we can do nothing about it. This
is what they say. This is ELMEKTOUB from which there is no hope for escaping. There
is nothing to escape from except from oueselves. There is also nothing to escape to
except to ourselves. Let us grab hold of life once and for all because otherwise, it will not
grab hold of us. Let us try rather than wait and see whether or not life is to be bestowed
on and offered to us. Let us remind ourselves every now and then of the fact that nothing
is to be done without trying except lying down and dying. We are apt to lose many things
except real life. Everything would probably come and go except life and death without
taking, of course, into consideration commencement and finality. Once life is gone, it
will be the end of us. We have it for the time being and therefore, we must not throw it
away for no good thing. It is real life I am talking about not this present one that sounds
like death. Que la mort eu‘t été préfèrable dans ses instants. These are not the words one
should say regarding his life. These are not the words to be said by real human beings
who know that, as I said, life is a wild and bitter struggle in the course of which we are
going to prove our existence before passing and fading away. Il fallait, à présent, se
montrer énergiques et prudents, et chercher les moyens de vivre et de s‘aimer toujours
sans éveiller aucun soupçon. The alternative I must, we must come up with, is the
following: Que la vie eu‘t été préfèrable dans ses instants.
It is our lives with which we are so much preoccupied and we do not intend to meddle
into others‘ lives where meddling is not wanted. Let us take responsibility for our lives
before starting to tangle with what is besides. It is not an easy thing to do in so long as
the truth comes to be concerned. We have to do everything in order to make this and
propel it and drag it out even forcibly towards the light. For as things do have a strange
way of turning out so badly, they also have a good way of turning out so well. All is
required from us is to work hard and hope for a better perspective, a better horizon. We
have to struggle for better times on the cess of which we do not just coexist together
peacefully but more significantly we coexist together harmoniously. It is not, we know,
so easy a task to be undertaken but it is not within the province of impossibility.
The one who has in himself the capacity for saying it cannot be done must also have the
capacity for bearing the sight of the one who is doing it. To bear a grudge against
whoever is acting decently, this is to allow enough room for regret later on. To be
friendly towards the other while concealing one‘s hostility is no better than being
otherwise. In both cases, as far as I can sense, there remains yet something of importance
wanting which is sincerity. As for frankness, let me say that I do not even want to
remember it. Many people would wonder and retort by stating that they know which side
their bread is to be buttered upon and that I have no reason then to go on saying things
against them. Certain d‘eux furent surpris comme si on leur eu‘t annoncé la fin du
monde. I wonder in return at their wonder and wonder why is it that they are not
wondering at their failures. For me, to say is better than not to say after all.
Fussy Glacée u r right chokri, we chose to be silent (innate cowardice in us) it all resides
in the fact that no one is ready to die while everyone has no qualms in bein defeated,
what a shame!. The only free spirits that are outspoken r those who r dying for real cause.
Unlike u, I don't pity anyone. I rather pity those who died for us. nice reading u :))
June 16, 2010 at 14:01
Chokri Omri Thank you Wafa. Your words are so powerful. Believe me, I hate silence in
the deep recesses of my heart.
In a meditative stance on silence, to begin with, one must refrain from silence and say
that there is more to life than this obscurity within which we are obligingly cloistered.
Silence is nothing but, worse still, violence. Does it take some effort to be silent? Charles
Dickens said: "Nothing is to be done without trying except lying down and dying." To it,
one can add: Nothing is to be done without trying except lying down, remaining silent
and dying. More so, many and strange are the ways in which we strive to live. But then,
as i see it, in order to fend off silence, we ought to cry out and speak up. Speak please.
This silence is beyond bearing. Speak please. Silence is maddening. Nietzsche said that
the rudest word, the rudest letter were more good-natured, more honest than silence. He
also said, albeit exceedingly radical, that those who keep silent almost always lack
subtlety and politeness of the heart; Silence is an objection, swallowing down necessarily
produces a bad character_it even ruins the stomach. All those given to silence are
dyspeptic. Is it by possibility true that silence is of decency when it is undertaken for its
own sake? It ought not be so. There is, i must reiterate, more to life than this silence.
Most, if not all of, human vices, atrocities, crimes, misconducts, misdeeds, shames, and
chicaneries are the outcome of silence. And now, pour en finir, on ne reste raisonnables
qu'en gardant la parole.
June 16, 2010 at 14:54
Fussy Glacée ^^ wafa looooves this!!!!!! yeah unfortunately we r self-destructive by
feigning to be self-protective!! I couldn't help laughing as I reached "it even ruins the
stomach". Thanks for bothering to answer in the most adequate way buddy. Keep
torturing our consciousness, it needs sb like u ;))
June 16, 2010 at 15:04
Chokri Omri Dear Wafa, I hope I am not a torturer!! I am a friend. Friendship has to it
more than those who think they are "friends" think it has. It is divine in nature, noble in
character and timeless in what have we.
June 16, 2010 at 15:20
Fussy Glacée I meant it in a good way chokri. u should be proud ^^
June 16, 2010 at 17:52
Chokri Omri Thanks Wafa.
June 16, 2010 at 23:46
Fussy Glacée u r welcome bro :)
June 16, 2010 at 23:48
Waleed Khaldi It's a relief to read ur notes Chokri! It gives me the impression of NOT
having wasted my time :) I really adore ur sensitivity to what is going on.. Set ur muse
free and never keep silent, dear brother! What I particularly like in this note is you
making a clearcut distinction between "coexisting peacefully" and "coexisting
harmoniously." I do agree with u in this point. Really proud of u, brother!!
June 18, 2010 at 12:26
Lazhar Bouazzi "there are people who keep looking down upon other people with no
reason"; this is not the only important quote in this text !! The idea is that the entire text
is didactic in a very sensible, sensitive manner !!
June 18, 2010 at 23:28
Chokri Omri Thank you for your encouraging comments dear Walid and Professor
Lazhar. I am energized. Thank you for being my friends before anything else.
June 19, 2010 at 1:46
Ode to my father posted by Chokri Omri
June 16, 2010 at 1:58
Oh my father! Why they deprive me from you?
They had arrested you
before I kiss you, only one kiss.
Even before to wipe my mother‘s tears.
Oh, my occupied childhood!!
I am a flower of Palestine.
Number of my identity is seventy thousand.
I have not seen you since rising the sun.
Feast follows other feast.
And you still standing behind iron bars .
Oh,Hey. ..you kissing your sons every morning.
I want my father back, I want my father back.
From a Palestinian child
Oh! Old Memories by Ali Jemai
June 14, 2010 at 1:27
Oh! old memories remember me!
Share the frustration imposed
On my dreamy 'nd ageing liberty;
Free this sick soul engaged
In my hollow 'nd barren civility.
Come, with thine savage galoping,
To raise the sun that 's been sinking.
Lazhar Bouazzi "old memories" do the job of the imagination !! interesting !!
June 14, 2010 at 23:05
Lazhar Bouazzi Thanks Chokri for the tag !!
June 14, 2010 at 23:06
Chokri Omri You are welcome dear Teacher.
June 14, 2010 at 23:13
Ali Jemai thanks dear friend..
I have promised to flow the verses on
I ll do it inshallah.
June 15, 2010 at 10:32
Chokri Omri We hope so Ali. Welcome to the circle of poets. We are highly proud of
you.
June 15, 2010 at 19:26
Ali Jemai hope so amigo
June 17, 2010 at 12:41
by Nizar Kabbeni جصؽ رمالخا
June 1, 2010 at 1:53
٤ ؿس ال خط ٣
خ ػ
خ ٤ ل ك ي ٠خ ػ ؼ ر
خ ٤ خح ػـ ؿخ خ ح ي٣ ؿخال ك ؤ خر ػ
خ ٤ خ ػ خ لخ ي١ حأل١ ٤ أ٣ ـي ر لـخس ط ٤ق ح خ ػ
خ ٤ ـي ٣ ل٣ ٢ ح ٣ ـخ ل ط ـي ىحؿش ح ظ ل ٤
ل ش ح خ ل ٤ خ ٤ ض ل خ ط و ظ خ حػ ذ اح ٣
ح ر خ ح ؼ خ ال ط ؤحػخط ح ر زخ ٤ ؿس ال ط ال خط ٣
خ ؤ ال ط حكح أ ح ه حر ر ح
خ حط ح كر و طف ك ـغ ح خد ح ل ح ؤ ل
خ و ح زخ ح ك خط ٤ ك ـ ش ح هي خر خح ا
ض لخ ٣ ٣٠ ٠ ال ٣ ل ط ح٠
خ خ ؿل ي خ ه ٤ ػ ال٣
خ ٤ ظ ح ح وخط أ ط خ ز ١
خ ه هال زط ق ه أ خ خ أ ـ ي ه
خ وأ خ ال ط خط ظخر ؼىح ٤ ؿس ال ط ال خط ٣
خ زي ؼ ال ط ك خ ل أ خ ز ال ط ك خإ آر ل
خ ـ ح وخر ٢ ز غ و ٢ ح ٤خ وخص ح خ ؼخ١ى ظ
خك ٤ خ حالك خ ح١ىح إ ٤ وف ك ويس ح ح ػ
خ ٤ق ك٣ حح ظ خأل ال ط زغ ر ظ ح خك ػ
ظ ظ ػ ؼ وحد ١ وم حأل ح خ ٤ خ ٣ ؼ هللا ٣ خؿ ال ـخ خح زخء خ أك ٣
خ ٣ خ ؿحك
لخ ٠ ح ح ػ زك ل ح خط يك ؼس ح
هخ ش ط خ ر خأط ل
ح ا ى٣ ٤ ح ؼ ح
خ ٤ و ٤ خح خ ف ٣
خ ك ٤ ا ـخ خ ق أالر ٤ ؿس أ خـخ ٣
خ ـ خ ح ؼ خ ك ٠ ٤ ٤خ و ح ؼ ح ا ػ
By Nizar Kabbeni
Chokri Omri "Aya Tiflan youledo ettarikho min naeleihi ith yemchi".
June 1, 2010 at 1:59
Ali Jemai ATFAL HAZAMOU L 5AOU
June 1, 2010 at 4:21
Sameh Feddaoui let's learn from ghaza's children what does dignity mean
June 1, 2010 at 17:45
"Seeker of Truth Follow no path" by Chokri Omri
May 31, 2010 at 12:28
It is not highly problematic to accept neology and coinage so that then instead of having
our selves under the name of mankind let us have them with cummings under the name
of manunkind. It would, I feel and think, be better, wouldn‘t it?
Seeker of truth
Follow no path
All paths leads where
Truth is here.
"Just try to step out of the way if you want to go on living". They would tell you each
time you wanted to be involved in the process of life. "Step out of the way". Clever
people are in accordance with them those who always keep out of the way. According to
me, clever people are those who never step out of the way. They are those who confront
things with a view of coping with them before it is too late. Clever people are those who
are never indifferent. They are those who take responsibility for their lives. They do not
blame it for the destiny. They constantly trust themselves without waiting to be told what
to do and what to avoid. The moment they step out of the way, they cease to be clever.
This is what i say.
When i think about the reasons behind this all embracing futility informing our lives, i
immediately find my self plunged into a kind of dwelling which is strange through and
through. This all encompassing aimlessness is, i am of a firm and strong belief, the result
of human sterility and incapacity for action. It is the outcome of human stagnation and
inertia. Each one fixed his eyes before his feet and no attention, no awareness, no point of
reference have been assigned to the future. Our lives are measured by the material as well
as the sensual but never by the spiritual. There is this painful paucity of any guiding
moral principles. There is this utterly disappointing absence from our lives of any
spiritual values. There is no need then, to doubt the fact that we are living in an
overwhelming desolation. People have become incessantly curious to know everything
except what is worth knowing. They know the price of everything but the value of
nothing. They are impatiently longing for possessing what is ephemeral. They are ready
to invest every effort for the sake of pleasure.
What if we take love? Do people love one another? Perhaps they were right in putting
love into books. Faulkner proclaimed somewhere. Perhaps it could not live anywhere
else. Do they believe in lofty and noble feelings? La vie se presse dans les coeurs. C‘est
certain. L‘amour fait oublier tout ce qui n‘est pas divin comme lui, et l‘on vit plus en
quelques instants que pendant de longues periods. Mais ou‘ est, pour l‘amour du Dieu,
ou‘ est l‘amour ? There are only some big words in their mouths. It is increasingly clear
that there is only futility and faked emotions. We live in an age of futility when what is
essential is made trivial and what is trivial is made essential. We are living in an age, one
of them made it this way for some reason, where all the unnecessary things are our only
necessities. Nothing seems to be in its place. Everything is at sea. Everything seems to be
going through the wrong way. Everything is going badly everywhere. What shoud we
do? What should ever do? Pray "ask no questions and you will be told no lies". Let us not
lose the name of action. For everything without it is nothing.
Waleed Khaldi This is a note that perfectly speaks my mind! Thank u, dear Chokri!!
June 19, 2010 at 12:03
Ali Jemai I m very angry!!!
why did u stop tagging me dear choko.
any way
I ll never stop commentindg :/
the theme is interesting, but I want to say that there is not only one "way".
in this life there are ways that can lead to the same goal..
in other way, there is one goal, mankind welbeing,achieved by different ways..here I may
suggest the theme of difference and tolerance. I may appear deconstructive but I believe
we agree on the essence of your suggested issue..
Believe me ur style is excellent, no doubt.
June 19, 2010 at 12:28
Lazhar Bouazzi good deconstructive text !! thanks Chokri for the tag !!
June 19, 2010 at 20:55
Salma Bann oh i love it!excuse my ignorance,but who is this by? you chokri?
June 20, 2010 at 18:16
Salma Bann lol am sorry i just read the title: great! am really impressed!
June 20, 2010 at 18:17
Salma Bann oh ! :)) i hope ur fine too!!!
June 20, 2010 at 18:56
When I was a child by Chokri Omri
May 25, 2010 at 1:19
When I was a child, to say that memory believes before knowing remembers and that it
believes longer than recollects, longer than knowing even wonders, I used to rely upon
my heart in everything I feel like being into close contact with. Things were perfectly at
home. I did not understand. Dés l‘ors, je veux pas comprendre. C‘est tout à fais bon pour
moi pour dire la vérité. Moi je suis là pour autre chose que pour comprendre. Je suis là
pour dire non. C‘est tout, et pour vivre avant de mourir. Je pense qu‘il n‘y a rien de plus
mauvais pour l‘homme que de dire oui dépourvue de courage. I used to play wherever I
liked. I used to sleep wherever I liked. I even remember I used to scream and shout
whenever somebody makes the mistake of taking my toys away from me. People were
excessively kind with me. They were always there to come to my rescue and bring my
toys back to me. What is wrong with them now that I am still a child and a man?
I used to scream and shout sometimes for no particular reason. Perhaps it was just for the
mere pleasure of it or say when I feel something must take its course or when I feel
something is missing. It is absolutely unheard of for me to remain silent. I hated silence
deep in my heart. There was no such thing as deception and dupery. But most of all, there
was no such thing as hatred. I do not say there was no devilment. This is really to tell no
truth. We were devilment in person. But there was no such thing as hatred or mediocrity.
Our hearts are not made for such feelings. Our hands are not made for killings. « Dieu, tu
ne nous as point donné des coeurs pour nous hair et des mains pour nous égorger. Fais
que nous nous aidons mutuellement à supporter ce fardeau pénible d‘une vie passagère ».
VOLTAIRE, the most unfriendly of all philosophers, makes it in this way. When I was a
child, I used to dream of many things. I would dream for instance of flying away high up
and up in the sky so much so that I could join the birds in their journey of immigration. I
would dream for another instance of sailing in the sea looking towards the treasure island
where I could live alone for some time and search for gold and then come back only to
share it with others. I would dream of going to the forest there where I could live with
wild animals without being afraid of them. Sometimes, I would be overtaken with fear
from the unknown especially when I find my self on my own in the forest. But then,
inspite of it, I would go on and grope my way in the forest and strengthen my self with
hopes of finding huge creatures who, when seen, I would never relinquish them that I
become similar to them they were so dear to me. I would go on and keep going on my
way which I thought was endless because had I been of the illusion that my way had an
end I would have never tried and tired my self following it to its end. I would go on till
your shadows, all of a sudden, fell on me without my knowing of them. So, I laughed and
discovered that company was fruitless. When I was a child, I used to fancy that the forest
was to be approched with company lest the wolves would arrange our fleshes for their
food. The forest, I continued to fancy, was to be explored with company lest the giants
whose brightness would be blinding would adopt us for their sons. Again, your shadows
suddenly came upon me and accordingly I screamed bitterly and protestingly; Leave me
alone, leave me alone, please, for hope I find the giants. I would not laugh any more.
Leave me alone. Why do you insist on hurting me? I will not be inferior or even similar
to all of you. I would scream and yell into causing you to leave me alone that I never
wanted your company that it would never guide me to see the giants whose brightness is
blinding. Leave me on my own that I want to approach the forest and care no more for
my safety I want to be lost. Leave me on my own because I have good hopes of meeting
and even talking with those whom you think had long departed. Leave me on my own I
do not want your company it would rather propel me to my loss that I want to be lost
without your presence near or close to me I want to be lost in the forest I do not want
your words and premonitions. Leave me alone I would not care if I got lost it is not you
who would save me or guide me to see the light of the day you have not seen your selves
why do you want me to believe you that you your selves you do not believe in your
selves? I want to enter the forest and be the less deceived. I understand the gliding of the
forest and I do not understand you. Je comprends, je vous assure, le bruissement de la
foret et je n‘arrive jamais, guère à vous comprendre. Parfois, sous une immense rafale,
toute la forèt s‘inclinait dans le même ses avec un grémissement de souffrance ; et le
froid m‘envahissait, malgré mon pas rapide et mon lourd vètement. Mais mon dieu, je
veux entrer dans la forét et etre perdu. Je veux pas etre perdu devant vous, des hommes
incapables et de volonté faible. Let me grope my own way then that I hate your ways
they are to come to an end mine will never come to it. Leave me alone I abhor you if you
keep hurting me I never asked you for no more than to leave me alone. Leave me alone
your shadows will not cause me to clasp my hands and shreik and laugh in ecstasy they
will cause me rather to sigh that you are preventing me and depriving me of seeing the
giants whose brightnesss is blinding. Leave me alone I want to be told nothing of your
words I do not understand them you do not understand me. I am still a child and I will
not pretend to know as you do. Leave me alone who are you to make my way come to an
unexpected end you had expected it? I do not want you why do you want me to want you
that I do not want you? Go to the forest why do you insist on impoverishing the tree you
are not rich enough to leave the tree and help it grow naturally that it hates your ground
that it hates your drugs that it hates your science and chemistry? Leave me alone and go
and explore the forest it is better than getting the tree weakened it would not be capable
of yielding some fruits that it is not sterile like you. Leave me alone I do not love you let
alone to want you to show me the way out of the forest. Who told you that I wanted to be
shown the way that I want to know by my self that I want to get lost if I tried to enter the
forest and get lost without your company that I wanted to get lost in the forest and no one
to be lost with me that I want no one to be lost with me? Leave me alone and instead of
reading me read your selves I never want to read you that I want to read my self instead
of reading you. Leave me alone do you think I will keep reading you and never try to
read my self always reading never to be read? Leave me alone I care less for gain as for
loss it is my gain when I find you are not my company you are not to help me to enter the
forest you stand against me you paint water that I will never drink. Leave me alone I
have my heart and my mind set on it and if I get lost I would have been lost without
causing any one else to be lost with me that I want to enter the forest alone why do you
keep monitoring me? Let me be. Let me choose my own way and instead of fooling me
and your selves listen to Shelley (a man of insight but victim of time):
I vowed that I would dedicate my powers
To thee and thine _ have I not kept the vow?
With beating heart and streaming eyes, even now
I call the phantoms of a thousand hours
Each from his voiceless grave: they have in visioned bowers
In studious zeal or love‘s delight
Outwatched with me the envious night _
They know that never joy illumed my brow
Unlinked with hope that thou wouldst free
This world from its dark slavery
That thou _ O awful LOVELINESS,
Wouldst give whatever these words cannot express.
Chokri Omri The marked use of "leave me alone" in this note is targeted against those
people who have nothing to do except making the lives of others more difficult than
when they just go back and live their lives without hurting others. My friends do not by
any means belong to them.
May 25, 2010 at 1:39
Chokri Omri Guy de Maupassant has this to add : Remarquez bien ceci, Messieurs. Chez
les Orientaux, la vie ne compte pour rien ; On est résigné tout de suite ; les nuits sont
claires et vides de légendes, les àmes aussi vides des inquiétudes sombrent qui hantent les
cerveaux dans les pays froids. En Orient, on peut connaitre la panique, on ignore la peur.
May 25, 2010 at 1:46
Ali Jemai I raelly like ur reading
and I wiil find a pure moment in this rotten state ofnothingnes to take rufuge within and
navigate on your lovely papers..
May 25, 2010 at 1:46
Askri Abdelfatteh hi Choko, you are still a child, you dreamed to become Spiderman,
Robinson Crusoe, Al sindibad,Superman, and Tarazan.but Chokri not all your friends are
wolves, you could not live alone; and those friends instead of leaving you alone they can
give you power.
May 26, 2010 at 0:02
Lazhar Bouazzi It's always nice to read your texts Chokri; you write sensitively and
imginatively !!
May 26, 2010 at 0:54
Ahmed Kandeel really beautiful ... keep going :) :)
May 26, 2010 at 8:01
Walid Jaballi az usual you make me feel impressed by what you write..
your words touche my soul so deeply... keep going brother you r the best....
May 26, 2010 at 9:23
Chokri Omri Thank you so much dear friends.
@Abdelfatteh: You never cease to impress me friend. Try to consider my first comment
on top and tell me what you think of it. I never said that my friends should leave me
alone. I am, instead, alluding to those of them described in my first comment. Take better
care.
May 26, 2010 at 9:59
Arbia Hkimi really thrilling !!! I don't know what to say ..believe me you are great...but I
won't leave u alone :)) lol keep it up (why didn't you reply to my last message?? I wanna
know if you are going to add him as ur friend.) take good care of yourself Chokri
May 26, 2010 at 12:58
Chokri Omri Arbia: Thank you dear friend. I have replied to your last message. Of
course, I will add him as a friend. The problem is that I have found no one by the name
you sent me. Take care.
May 28, 2010 at 17:15
A wondrous poem by Ronsard posted by Chokri Omri
May 22, 2010 at 0:50
Alors que Vesper vient embrunir nos yeux,
Tout épris d‘avenir, je contemple les cieux,
En qui Dieu nous escrit, par notes non obscures,
Les sorts et les destins de toutes créatures.
Car lui, du fond des cieux regardant un humain,
Parfois mu‘ de pitié, lui montre le chemin ;
Par les astres du ciel qui sont les caractères,
Les choses nous prédit et bonnes et contraires ;
Mais les hommes chargés de terre et de trépas,
Méprisent tel écrit, et ne le lisent pas.
Resistance of Memory by Mourad Mchiri
May 22, 2010 at 0:39
How many years of exile?
I counted with my fingers
Until I finished counting my fingers: ten.
I stopped counting then.
My exile can‘t be counted,
Outdoes the power of numbers.
I have landed in my country,
I am home again.
But nothing means anything.
The place is no longer that place.
My name on the old elm vanished,
I remember having carved it well with a nail
Till the tree bled.
The often-noisy street is now calm,
No shouting, no yelling, no laughter,
No children, no passers-by, no beggar.
Where is the horse in the neighborhood stable?
He must have died.
Horses, good horses, don‘t live long.
My mother‘s stove is dead, too.
No more blowing at fire,
No more adding of wood.
My father‘s grave in the cemetry
Is moss-infested.
It must have rained a lot this winter.
Everything is nothing today,
Only memory won‘t die.
Chokri Omri This poem, if it is to be more closely and deeply considered, seems to evoke
and ramify what it already attempts to hide and conceal. The mere reading of it, I confess
and why should I not confess?, makes me prefer silence . Silence, silence, silence and
not indifference.
May 22, 2010 at 0:41
Lazhar Bouazzi Thanks for the tag chokri! I like the poem, but how about yourself?
Please don't give up writing !!
May 22, 2010 at 0:54
Chokri Omri Thank you so much dear Teacher. I promise I won't give up writing. It is
my fate. I hope you are doing great.
May 22, 2010 at 0:58
Askri Abdelfatteh great.memories sweet memories, but why we always try to remember
the past, because what we are today comes from our thoughts of yesterday.great. what do
you think Chokri and all your friends if w e just form a group of writers.i think we"ll
have many adherents.
May 22, 2010 at 5:17
Arbia Hkimi that's quite great Abdelhafatteh ..Chokri you keep always reminding me of a
young writer like you he is one of my friend (facebook) you can share ideas with him he
is so brilliant I'll send to you his name inchallah ..this poem is so sad Chokri its greatness
lies in the gloomy affect that anchors us on a barren island yet it remains fertile with our
memories that won't die (because it represents a kind of continuity with this nightmarish
present...
May 22, 2010 at 9:24
Fussy Glacée ^^ very powerful words!! u r right buddy, silence but not indifference.
THX.
May 22, 2010 at 15:12
Ali Jemai OH! OLD MEMORIES
Oh! old memories remember me!
Share the frustration imposed
On my dreamy 'nd ageing liberty;
Free this sick soul engaged
In my hollow 'nd barren civility.
Come, with thine savage galoping,
To raise the sun that 's been sinking.
( to be continued)
May 27, 2010 at 3:13
Chokri Omri Wonderful lines Ali!!
May 27, 2010 at 13:45
Sameh Feddaoui it's true chokri tell mourad good horses don't live long
May 27, 2010 at 17:10
Freedom (2) by Chokri Omri
May 22, 2010 at 0:23
I do not really know what is happening these days. People fear one another and no longer
trust one another because they are changing all the time. They no longer blieve in what
the future is holding for them if they can just awake and build up for it being aware of it.
People are starting to lose faith in themselves without reason. They think that everything
is going badly everywhere and that hope is the word we give to dreamers who do not
know that our reality is irreparable. The Urban Apocalypse is here to sustain their fear
and keep it so inextricable and lively a part in their hearts; that with the disjointed
rhythms of contemprary life, the lack of stability, THE SCREECHING OF BRAKES,
and sudden death we are no longer to keep rosy dreams, high aspirations and great
expectations change our outlook towards life. Are we to give in then and give up the
struggle for life and continue living this death in life? Are we to exclaim on death to take
us away out of this world? No wonder real people who have a strong will will never
accept defeat. We are not made for defeat and therefore we will never degenerate into
allowing others to profit from this and then take advantage of our futility. It is a
temporary state beyond which we must traverse and remember it when we are through.
Of course, not with laxness and indolence, not with vain hopes, not with performance of
things transitory and worthless, not with poor imitation of others, not with ignorance we
are likely to attain our aspirations. We work together as a unified group never shaken by
the oppressing wind. A group together knowing what to do and what to avoid so as to
make strides without conflicts arising from selfishness and exploitation. A group together
defending its identity and fighting for its integrety. A group together analysing all things
illusive and then deciphering their causes and no longer allowing them to meet their
effects upon us. An all embracing awareness that success and progress are never the
product of one or two or ten individuals. They are the offspring of a whole group living
in a strong society preparing the ground for agreement not deriving pleasure out of
opposition and antagonism which always cater for toppling. We need to be in harness
with one another and be back in harness. Success and progress take time but failure and
backwardness take no time. We need to take better hold of life.
All I know is that what is taking place for the time being is of no service to us neither
now nor in the future. There is this kind of desolation always already altogether apparent
to the one who looks around with a view of comprehending but also of analysing what
people are like. It is as though they are determined to remain stuck in this social vicious
circle which always consumes without yielding any rewarding results. There is this
utterly disappointing disposition to do everything except what is of importance. No one
seems to give an air of looking beyond these perpetual anachronistic ideas which are
leading nowhere. People have made it lucid and clear the fact that they are not at all in a
position to change or even make the effort of understanding one another. But then, they
seem to have never been aware except of spying on and making fun of one another
oblivious to such things as unity and coexistence in tune and harmony with one another.
They are exchanging insults and grotesques while not knowing that in so doing they are
moving backward and then they refuse to be told or given an account of it compared to
what other people are doing. Take Europeans. It does not take some competence to notice
that they have always had this will and desire to look for uptodateness despite the great
trouble which is being taken for that. They have a lively faith in themselves and in
everything they are doing no matter how different and sometimes strange are their ways
of dealing with one another. They are not simply at ease with grotesque and empty talk.
After all, gone is the age of trivial and empty talk. Gone is the age of acting and make
belief. Here only accuracy and veracity whose benefit is for every one so within reach
and belief. Europeans are people of spirit and correctness. They will not hear of
humiliation or inferiority when compared to Americans for instance. Even when they are
found in an inferior position, there is this pride which they never cease to take in
themselves to the extent of bewildering Americans themselves who think they have made
it after all. This is why cummings would say that France has happened more than it is
happening and America is happening more than it has happened. This is understandable
given the fact that Europeans never wittnessed colonization or foreign domination. What
appears to them to be outdated and inaccurate will often take an artistic dimension and
then quickly spring back and turn out to be something accurate because modernized. As
for Americans, nowhere can a restive place where comfort and consolation are to be
enjoyed outside Europe. Paris is one perfect example there where Americans would
resort to at times of alineation and disillusionment. Paris the beautiful, Paris in whom our
souls live. Cummings and many others would sometimes scoff at the huge difference
between Paris and Newyork despite everything. This is to say that propriety is so
fundamental without which no wealth no technlogy no empowerment are to be of credit
and consideration. Propriety is, in one word, freedom. A community whose propriety is
effaced has no further claim of freedom. Asians have their own features on which
identity is kept intact. It is propriety that always comes to the foreground in order to save
people from deterioration. It is a source of motivation providing people with a propitiuos
ground on which to start and move forward without inferiority complexes. As far as we
are concerned, were any one to take the very liberty of asking me about our own
propriety, I would say it is grotesque and empty talk. It is not clear that there is another
thing beyond grotesque and empty talk of which we are the masters. It is as if we were
sort of living in seclusion and isolation compared to what is happening abroad. But since
things are never trivial in themselves, our ways of looking at them are more often than
not so. Our propriety lies in having absolutely none which implies the lack of freedom
from which we are constanty suffering and the repercussions of which we are always
wrestling with. This is why I always insist upon freedom in its various shapes to be
sought for no matter how exorbitant the price to be paid and the effort to be invested will
be for the sake of obtaining it. If there is anything that is so damaging and crippling then
it is this feeling of not being free to do or even say things. When people are left to their
own resources without restrictions and limitations, success and progress will become
thinkable and an entreprise which is possible. Today, people are not at any rate allowed
to be aware of that. But who said that we are not free? Don‘t we see how free we are in
producing grotesque and empty talk? Don‘t we see even how free we are in not being
free? We are not even free to say that we are not free let alone to ask for freedom. But
freedom is not something people should ask for. It is their very raison d‘etre and essence
of being. The Dasein of people is freedom. Il faut également et par voie de conséquence
mettre et placer le Dasein sur ses bases et devant ses abimes. But then, it is worth
pointing out in this respect of freedom the fact that le Dasein de l‘ homme est en soi déjà
inséré dans le Dasein des autres. C‘ est-à-dire qu‘ il n‘ est tel qu‘ il est que dans un etre
ensemble avec les autres, pour et contre les autres. But then time and again, it is by no
means to be forgotten the fact that Freedom is within us and each one of us black, red,
yellow, and white is expressing it differently. It shall never cause any one any harm as
long as no one is hurting the other which normally should be and must be his brother.
Dites la vérité, aussi amère à dire soit-elle. Dis: Je crois en DIEU. Ensuite observe la
droiture. Dites du bien vous gagnerez et taisez le mal et vous en serez saufs. Nul ne
prévaut sur quelqu‘ un d‘ autre que par la foi et l‘ œuvre pie. N‘ a pas de fois qui n‘ est
pas digne de foi et n‘ a pas de piété qui ne respecte pas son pacte. Nul d‘ entre vous ne
peut prétendre à la foi jusqu‘ à ce qu‘ il aime pour son frère ce qu‘ il aime pour sa propre
personne. Who do we think said this and insited upon it to be translated into actions and
deeds ? God knows better than we do. It is our Prophet Mohammed peace and blessing
be upon him.
We are living in the same universe and this universe is created by God the almighty. If
there is one single TRUTH, then it must be ALLAH. No one will give you freedom, I do
not know who said this, no one will give you anything. If you are a man, you take it. This
is what I will
say.
Fussy Glacée hey romantic! :ppp
May 22, 2010 at 15:16
Sameh Feddaoui i love the way you love Allah the almighty chokri and your careness
about people.it is really a noble feeling to do so.
May 22, 2010 at 19:42
Chokri Omri Thank you Wafa and Sameh.
May 24, 2010 at 1:19
Ali Jemai I can see,in your words, the the free mind that flies high to bend for his
beloved
May 25, 2010 at 0:39
Freedom by Chokri Omri
May 18, 2010 at 0:45
Pleasure is not a goal. It can be a result but not a goal. This story is something which i
call a predicament for those who find a glamour of hope in sincerity and righteousness.
Hard work and patience when combined will make a solid safeguard for our motives. We
are to understand this from the start and then start.
Take freedom as a motive if you don‘t feel it for the time being. Take it then as a motive
and work very hard upon obtaining it for there is really nothing so much precious and
exorbitant as freedom. It is, as i have come to dwell upon this in another respect, freedom
that will make us aware of life. It is that which must belong to us sooner or later and i
don‘t think it will come without ardueousness. Freedom is not a luxury nor is it to be
seen as restricted to some lucky ones whom we constantly refer to as being ―the happy
few‖. They are, I think, to be held responsible for ―the despondant many‖. It is our nature
that teaches us this extremely important lesson. We are free by nature but the second man
took the life of his brother and the sad film of slavery began to be shown. Look at the
trees, c‘est une loi écrit dans la nature! Look at the flowers, look then at the birds, look at
the sun, look at the moon, look at the stars. Look at your self now.
Freedom is so much needed. There is no escape from it except in it if ever life to some
meaning is wanting. Take it back if it has been taken away. Nobody will think very ill of
you but more importantly it is time to look beyond appearances. Come on, it is freedom.
It is to be sought for even if everything else will start looking very badly.
Is it by possibility true that we are only prepared to see what is before us? Is it by
possibility true that we are only obliged not to see what is not before us? Just make it up
and try to help it out for nobody seems to be offering some very original things. Open up
the way for your self to live differently. Open up the way for your self to evaluate
differently. But most of all, open up the way for your self to think differently. It is my
conviction that each one of us has in himself the capacity for jarring with whatever is
imposed. Each one of us has in himself the capacity for standing against the trivial.
Nothing valuable has ever been forced to come into being without some proper
understandindg of life. Just figure it out. Nothing of importance is to come out of what is
trivial.
Many things, i firmly believe, are going so badly these days. What do we do when they
are affecting our lives so unnecessarily? What do we do when they are compelling us to
accept and never reject? Silence. Let us remain silent today for maybe things will change
in the future. They will change. I do assure you they will change.
I always say to my self that nothing further needs to be said when nobody is looking for a
way out of this sort of death in life. But then, one feels that to say is better than not to
say. To say things regardless to whether or not they are relevant is not a good idea. Only
when one starts to recognise the fact that judging things is not after all up to us we who
are in the midst of life. Nobody knows what is relevant or irrelevant since everything
appears indeed to be turning to its reverse. Let it be conceded then, that nothing is to be
obtained out of our atavistic ways of dealing with things. e.e.cummings, a highly
portencious and wonderful poet, brings it to the fore this way:
When man determined to destroy
Himself he picked the was
Of shall and finding only why
Smashed it into because.
Whoever wants to live differently must learn to think but also evaluate differently. Life is
bestowing a whole multitude of possibilities. To linger over the past will bring nothing
positive with it. Go and ask Historians what good is to come out of our moralization of
the past. Make sure to ask them also what good is to come out of our trivialization of the
past. The past is passed and it is there to remind us not to believe in atavism. It is there to
provide before us the glorious as well as the injurious deeds of our ancestors. What about
our selves? We have the present as well as the future. Only when one starts to recognize
the fact that our ancestors‘s future is our present. They seem to have never thought about
it. This is why they seem to have never prepared for it. Was it my grand father who got
up at four in the icy morning to lead the sluice of water into the garden? Atavism,
atavism, let us rely on Atavism. It is all we need in order to think about and prepare for
the future.
Was it my grand father, one cannot but try to ask, who got up at four in the icy morning
to lead the sluice of water into the garden? This is the question that always remains to be
asked and to which my answer will be part of the question our posterity will undoubtedly
put. One ought never to blame our ancestors. One, rather, should admonish himself for
wanting to be something similar to them. It is accordingly essential to us to open our eyes
to the fact that we have to start anew without fear or submission. It is now our turn to
learn how to stand upon our own feet without being shown how to live or what to feel or
not to feel. This earth belongs to us. It belongs to us and i do not think that it will be
availed and do to simply wait and see whether things are going to happen or not.
Whoever wants to fight for his freedom must start out at once by setting himself free
from all the shackles he comes into close contact with. Let us make sure we do not end
up by becoming slaves of the past. We are to be free and then build up for the future for it
is the only thing that is elaborately set before us as a way out of oblivion. It is, i must say,
the struggle of life against death. It is the struggle of memory against forgetting. It is the
struggle of truth against illusion.
Fussy Glacée i like ur optimism chokri. I just can't get used to the mere thought that
somewhen somehow we'll be , all, (regardless of race, gender, natioanality, mentality, etc
equally free. Perhaps in heaven" I'm sorry but here is a pessimistic girl pouring out her
own thoughts
P.S: the pic is just sublime. Thx. Best wishes man
May 18, 2010 at 1:17
Lynn Hannachi I agree with you that "something is rotten in the state of Denmark." But I
wonder if you're talking about freedom, or the discipline it takes to acquire self-
knowledge.
May 18, 2010 at 6:54
Askri Abdelfatteh good morning friend, your definition or your point of view to freedom
is so different, keep on, i have read this article twice, and i think that i must read it again
to feel free what i can write as a commentary to you.
May 18, 2010 at 10:32
Chokri Omri @Wafa: A pessimistic person, I have been told, is a well-informed optimist.
You are a lovely girl.
@Bessem: Thanks so much dear friend.
@Professor Hannachi: I am glad you are here for comment and correction not just in
class. I think I am talking about both. I cannot stop marvelling at the Hamletic statement
for it spells out almost what I have wanted to express and move then beyond. I am proud
of you all the time.
@Abdelfatteh: You are so kind and thoughtful dear friend. Thanks.
May 18, 2010 at 22:01
Paradise Lost revisited by Chokri Omri
May 14, 2010 at 10:49
Were anyone to ask me today my opinion about our age, i would take it to be the age of
the transience of experience and the aimlessness and senslessness of life.
Dust I am, to dust am bending,
From the final doom impending.
Je ne suis rien comme ça, sinon cendre et poussière.
Je ne suis rien comme ça, sinon cendre et poussière.
With these awkward ideas warring in my mind, with these strange impulses struggling in
my heart, i really find it extremely difficult for me not to remember someone who, albeit
his blindness, saw things invisible to mortal sight. I find it definitely difficult for me not
to remember him because the things he voiced and confessed are far and far beyond the
slutishness of forgetfulness and oblivion. The things he managed to lay bare were not to
emanate from scratch or ex nihilo. They were not going to accept being gleaned out of
nothing as many would take them to be. There is something then truer and more real than
what we can see with the eyes and touch with the finger to deploy, in a way, some
authoritarian Hawthornian words. Indeed, this man is absolutely suggestive of many
things we, modern men, find past comprehension and at the same time past apprehension.
To prove this, let us first have a first glance of perusal at what kind of things he, the man
of his age and all the ages that went and still to come, might say:
Thus they in Heav‘n, above the starry sphere,
Their happy hours in joy and hymning spent.
Meanwhile upon the firm opacous ° Globe
Of this round world, ° whose first convex ° divides
The luminous inferior Orbs, ° enclosed
From Chaos and th‘inroad of Darkness old,
Satan alighted works: a Globe far off
It seem‘d, now seems a boundless Continent
Dark, waste, and wild, under the frown of night
Starless expos‘d, and ever-threat‘ning storms
Of Chaos blust‘ring round, inclement sky;
Save on that side which from the wall of Heav‘n
Though distant far some small reflection gains
Of glimmering air less vext with tempest loud:
Here walk‘d the Fiend at large in spacious field.
These lines, pour donner à César ce qui appartient à César, are remarkably evocative of
an outstanding and penetrating frame of mind this man seems to have kept and cherished.
It is not within the borders of possibility for us to read them without being touched by
their extreme profundity both in form and meaning. What is happening, one should ask
now, above the starry sphere? Here there is only the frown of night starless exposed, and
ever threatening storms of chaos blustering round the inclement sky. Here walked the
fiend (meaning a cruel or evil person) at large in spacious field up and down bending on
his preys and fearing from no one whomsoever. Is there nobody here to stand against
him? Is there no one to prevent him from doing the harm he has and still continues to
engender in the human race? Why isn‘t there somebody here to stop him? Where is every
body? Don‘t they try to stop him at all?
In order to be generous and provide an answer to the question I of recently have come to
mention above (What is happening above the starry sphere? As with regard to the last set
of questions, suffice it to point out that one had better have some sort of dependency
upon himself and never wait for others to mend the rip), I will say right from the onset
that this question is, at its best, badly formulated and posed. Where upon, just by way of
consequence, it should never be asked or even speculated upon. My reason for that is the
fact that we are Humans with so many ambitions and so few conditions. It is not really up
to us nor for us either to ask questions to which there are no convincing answers, let
alone practical ones. What is happening above the starry sphere is beyond our knowledge
(see the Koran, surat Elanbiae, Aya 22 but also Aya 23). In so saying, I wish I would not
be accused of being negativistic or pessimistic. For there does not really seem to be much
point in being or trying to be like that. I wish I would not end up by falling in that kind of
slippery slope fallacy which stands against things of the future without satisfactory
reasons. In the mean time, I have said that because I did not want to dwell on abstract
things whose applicability and expediency in our empirical world is most of the time
depressing and heartbreaking. Then, in attempting to back up my stance and hence make
up for the question I tried to exclude, I would rather have a preference to come up with
which is an other question serving the same purpose. What is happening down this round
earth?
Let us try to settle it and ask then whatever question we might ask.
In an answer to the latter question, again that man will be found of great service and
assistance to us not because he produced one but rather because he produced , and to put
it in a sophisticated way, none, and yet was very close to it. His poem is highly
descriptive of what is happening down this round earth. He had been aware of the fact
that, as I said in the beginning, the task of real intellectuals (not those who pretend, for
the examples are thick on the ground as a matter of fact.) consists chiefly and
paramountly in analyzing the illusions present in this world in order to discover their
causes. He, in this respect wrote:
So on this windy Sea of land, the fiend
Walked up and down alone bent on his prey,
Alone, for other creature in this place
Living or liveless to be found was none,
None yet, but store° hereafter from the earth
Up hither like Aerial vapours flew
Of all things transitory and vain, when sin
With vanity had fill‘d the works of men:
Both all things vain, and all who in vain things
Built their fond hopes of Glory or lasting fame,
Or happiness in this or th‘other life;
This is exactly what is happening down this round earth. The fiend is doing very well in
his job. He confirmed himself in evil and felt how awful goodness is, and then started at
once performing his task through the various exercises and drills he set forth for himself
and which he incessantly confers on the human race. He was determined to take one way
in life and so he opted for the wrong one and yet excelled in it. He excelled in it because
he was alone (not now to tell the truth !) and so he took advantage of the entire land
where both living and liveless creatures are past everything due to their ignorance and
from which most of them refuse and rebuff to escape. He succeeded in playing his hoax
and scam upon them when they invested their energies and efforts in things which are
transient, passing and worthless. The long series of trivial, clumsy vain efforts born out
of frustration and fumbling and dumb instinct. They are playing with sin not in the secret
house of shame but rather in public. (See the Koran; Sura 6; Aya 128). Not only sin but
also vanity, these are the ideals they imbued their works with. But the most dismal of all
according to my perspective
( to analyse the illusions in order to detect their causes) is that they still do not know how
to prune themselves. Now, they expectingly want their works to be geared towards Glory
and lasting fame. They expectingly long for happiness. Mais la gloire et le Bonheur,
comme on le sait, ne s‘achètent pas par la vanité. Their reward on Earth, John Milton
tells us, is the fruits of painful superstition and blind Zeal. They would find fit retribution
empty as their deeds.
They would find fit retribution just as empty as their deeds. For their works are filled
with sin and vanity. From this and as Milton expressed it later, what must be worse; Of
worse deeds sufferings must ensue with no regard or account whatever to what
Hypocrites austerely talk of purity and place and innocence. (See again the Koran; Sura
6; Aya 112 but equally Aya 113). There is no reason for hope in this respect. What is
hope in short? It is an unpatterned process of living in life while cleaving to a good
prospect of faith. It is the process of living along with an aim of achieving what one
thinks he deserves to achieve. There is no reason then at all for them to hope for Glory
and lasting fame because what is wrong is always wrong even if the world in its entirety
is defending it. (See again the Koran; Sura 6; Aya 116-117). Their final hope is, as
Milton had shown in Paradise Lost, nothing but flat despair. It is not easy to think of it
otherwise. There is actually no point, there is no good, there is no way of righteousness to
come out of things which are transitory and vain. This is perhaps why John Milton takes
this round earth to be no more than a windy sea of land dark, waste, and wild under the
frown of night starless exposed and ever threatening storms of chaos blustering round the
inclement sky.
Save on that side which from the wall of Heav‘n
Though distant far some small reflection gains
Of glimmering air less vext with tempest loud.
Of this, one needs to talk at length because it seems that even Milton himself did not find
much to say about Heaven. ―When we have offended against Heaven,‖ A Chinese good
man rightly said, ― there is nowhere we can turn to in our prayers‖.(See for instance the
Koran ; Sura 6 ; aya 104). Milton did not find much to say about it. Only a small
reflection has escaped the ever threatening storms of chaos. A small reflection but an
extremely pertinent one without which there can really be no talk of anything worth
mentioning or dwelling upon. Milton, I must say again, found it at stake for himself to
talk about Heaven except perhaps when he, by way of need and desire alike, attempted to
strike a balance between the starry sphere and the firm opacous Globe of this round
world. But in truth, Milton desperately failed in so doing and this should come as no
surprise to us because Milton is in the midst of life and what is more than this, he did not
make a radical choice whether to take this way or the other. He could by no means hope
to give a full account of something in which he himself is immersed, plunged and
submerged. He must have been greatly affected by both ways which means that he is
incipiently victim of division. Milton in his ―Paradise Lost‖ allowed the devil to have his
say. The devil, however, was trying to prevent Milton from having his say. Milton failed
as a consequence which means that he succeeded. The devil succeeded which means that
he failed. The very paradigm of success and failure is not a successful one for those who
are reading my paper without enough attention. It is as if then that Milton, to go back to
him, were saying in the words of Shelley in his essay (On Love): ―Ask him who lives
what is life; ask him who adores what is God‖.
Why does everything around us seem to be at sea except on that side which from the wall
of Heaven? What makes, let us ask out of curiosity and inquisitiveness, the glimmering
air less vext with tempest loud? So long as questioning is a key to knowledge, we all
need to inquire about things before accepting to refuse or refusing to accept them. It is
not difficult to ask questions but it is rather difficult to provide answers to them.
Everything seems to be at sea because almost everybody lost faith in goodness. But why?
It is because goodness is simple and badness manifold. Everything seems to be at sea, i
think, because no attention is rightly called to the dreadful deeds human beings are doing.
Everything seems to be at sea because instead of fighting against Fiends, we are fighting
against one another. Everything seems to be at sea because we are suffering from the lack
of direction and conduct and Kant is giving a pretty decent espousal of obedience and its
positive harvest. Everything seems to be at sea because we are reprimanding external
things quite oblivious to ourselves. What is happening above the starry sphere is
absolutely none of our business. What is happening down this round earth, however, is
our business. Everything seems to be at sea because instead of having ourselves occupied
with our business, we are wasting so much time in things that are far from being our
business. Take this earth. It is running to its own destruction, isn‘t it? Let us explore just
for one moment along with John Milton the precious nature men‘s vicious hands have
spoiled and sullied for no good reason. Thanks poor Tom, thanks indeed. You have at
least come to find out what has long been past finding out. Our lives would not come to
an end if we did not end the lives of others. Have we lost sight of what is happening
down this earth? Many are those who will say it is not any concern of theirs. Many are
those who will let things take place and then start asking: Why aren‘t they done the other
way round? Many are those who will lose the battle of life from the first encounter. They
are those on whom it is said that the bravest men among them is afraid of himself and
from whom nothing is to be achieved axcept sheer disappointment. Indeed, there is really
nothing to be expected from those who expect nothing from themselves. There is really
nothing to come out of nothing. De rien, rient ne sort. Je vois quelque chose de plus faux
dans leur position, à eux et surtout à moi.
I have said let us explore along with Milton the precious nature, mother nature men‘s
ferocious and brutal hands have blemished and tainted for no good reason.
All th‘unaccomplisht works of Nature‘s hand,
Abortive, ° monstrous, or unkindly° mixt,
Dissolv‘d on earth, fleet hither, and in vain, °
Till final dissolution, wander here,
Not in the neighbouring Moon, as some have dream‘d;
I can hardly have one single reason for hoping to express in prose what Milton have done
in verse but still, I want to express even this inexpressibility which grabs hold of me each
time I feel like expressing my self. My reason soon becomes shrivelled up in the fire of
emotion and I accordingly wonder why is it that our lives are handled this way and not
another way more promising and rewarding. Milton‘s lines, to thrust back to our context,
depict the kind of conduct human beings are following in their tussle with nature. It is a
misconduct through and through. They unreasonably and at times unconsciously destroy
the elements of nature and hope then to see and live in a better place in this world.
Nature, as Defoe rightly said, appears to be stripped of all the additional Glories, which it
derives from religion. It is destroyed instead of being preserved. They, by means of
ignorance, fall preys to counterproductiveness because they failed to make a simple
distinction between the means and the end, the process and the objective. All the
unaccomplished works of Nature, human beings do not seem to know, will melt and
break up on this earth. They will dissolve in vain till final dissolution becomes altogether
apparent to everyone of them not in the neighbouring Moon as many might have wished
and dreamed but rather in this round earth. Human beings with all their trumpery will
come to terms with ―Vain hopes, vain aims, inordinate desires blown up with high
conceits engendering pride‖.
Heaven, What is happening above the starry sphere? Is there no way out of this round
Earth towards Heaven? I am sure there is a way without disavowal and xenophobic
rejection. There is a way in which the fiend will flee along with his shades of night.( Sura
6 ; Aya 126). But who will take this way? Let us face it. Who will take this way? Those
who believe in Heaven and work on earth or those who neither believe in Heaven nor
work on earth. As with regard to those who believe in Heaven and do not work on earth
or those who do not believe in Heaven and work on earth, they are not at all to be taken
into account. The space of this paper allows no room for me to talk about them. We have
to do everything ourselves if we want to know anything about Heaven. We have to do
everything ourselves without waiting for others to show us the directions and
instructions. Nobody knows what sort of thing Heaven is. Nobody knows what kind of
things which might be found in Heaven. We have to do everything ourselves in order to
know real things. Haven‘t we had enough of betrayals and things that are transitory and
vain. No matter how much pain being alive will necessitate, we have to be alive. No
matter how much trouble this will take. This is the whole point. It is better than being
dead to all things central and vital in our lives. Il n‘y a pas de temps mort, pour ainsi dire,
dans cette vie. La vie, Aziza Lounis a dit, doit etre une chasse perpétuelle vers le
Bonheur. Mais quel bonheur ? Il faut également accepter et considèrer le caractère
éphémère du Bonheur et le pousuivre pour toujours. We have to be alive in everything
around us because life is devoid of meaning otherwise. Let us live with the spiritual
because it is, indeed, the spirit that matters most. The material and the sensual will bring
nothing constructive with them. For as Friedrich Holderlin articulated it somewhere, who
cares for things that will die the earth will have them? Who cares for things ephemeral
and passing?
I carry your heart with me
May 9, 2010 at 21:08
i carry your heart with me (i carry it in
my heart) i am never without it (anywhere
i go you go, my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing, my darling)
i fear
no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) i want
no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you.
here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart
i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)
Kimar Fatim Fatima " no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true)"
verry beautiful words
May 10, 2010 at 15:06
Walk by Noureddine Fgaier
May 9, 2010 at 5:28
People walk in search for death
the more you walk, the more you die
walking is the passage of time
not driving or flying but walking
from one part of the town to another
an exhausting ritual;
pausing to rest only retards the end,
but as you start walking again
it‘s your fate that you weave
clothing your body with further sins
of bodies contemplated
faces sneered and started at
with ironic bestiality
People met You
wish you‘d never met at all.
To go is to live
To stay is to die
or to defer
the gazings of the soul
and the twists of the body
Noureddine Fgaier
Chokri Omri This poem is more than one can expect from a poem to reveal or conceal. I
can't just stop reading and rereading it.
The title itself is wondrous and thought provoking. Yes, to go is to live, to stay is to die.
What matters most is to keep walking. Mahmoud Elmasedi in his "Essed" gives
something analogous to this by stating that "the way is not a way only when it is without
end".
May 14, 2010 at 11:21
Waleed Khaldi This is really an excellent poem, dear brother! The first thing that came to
my mind after reading it is Robert Frost's "The Road Not Taken" where he says:"Two
roads diverged in a wood and I/I took the one less travelled by/And that has made all the
difference." Walking a road whose end is already known is no walking; walking should
be explorative, meditative, refashioning and, above all, a build up towards death where
the process is really what counts. I salute Mr Noureddine Fgaier for such an insightful
poem!
June 19, 2010 at 12:01
Ali Jemai the poem is provocative in a way that it inspires me to write a whole passage
meditating my own path in life...thnks for the choice
choko you hit the gist of the poem with your professional interpretation, as usual ;)
June 19, 2010 at 12:10
Lazhar Bouazzi thanks Chokri for the tag and for this very nice text !!
June 19, 2010 at 20:49
El Habib Louai I am sorry for my belated comment. This such a deep inquiry into the
meaning of life itself. It's so existential in its nature and it drives one to stop by and
ponder on the very flowing moments that elapse from his life.Thanks for the tag my
friend.
June 22, 2010 at 15:35
Chokri Omri You are always welcome dear friend EL Habib Louai. Your commentary is
a powerful one indeed.
June 22, 2010 at 20:38
Ode To Harmony and Serenity by Chokri Omri
May 8, 2010 at 2:38
From an inception lofty, high and above,
We were sent all, not a single one excepted, low.
As though we were not on earth, we knew not how to love,
Harmony and serenity, where are you? When to sow?
Down is the show, the law, the structure and load.
Down is the coward, the knave, the brigand, and the bad.
Down to earth, downtodate, selfish, all of them and no less;
Harmony and serenity, where are you? Where to sow?
The way is descending, descending. Where then to go?
We want ours to be ascending, ascending as a lark's.
Harmony and serenity, where are you? Where are you?
Our eyes are searching for you, filled with tears;
Our hearts are devoid of warmth, fraught with layers.
Roses, where are they? Flowers, making prayers;
But when winter comes, when winter comes, no fears.
Harmony and serenity, where are you? Where are you?
Harmony and serenity, we are reaping the harvest;
Is it ripe? Rich? Is it fine? Fruitful? This harvest.
From now on, nothing would ever be the same. Rise.
From now on, everything is truthful. Not a body of lies.
Harmony and serenity, where are you? Where are you?
"And if the past is passed, why moralize upon it?"
No one returned, no one ascended. Where is Jesus?
The Giants are gone. But justice, has it been done?
No need to weep. No need to sigh deep. Bright is the sun?
Harmony and serenity, where are you? Where are you?
From now on, nothing would ever be the same. Rise.
Nowhere are you to be found Harmony and serenity.
Unless you are within, you are then pity?
Being your slave, no other way but to pray and rise.
Tunis,
04/03/2009.
Mariem Dearwish Wonderful, just like you, chokri! i appreciate it!
June 14, 2010 at 1:53
El Habib Louai This is a well-wrought poem my friend. I let myself be taken with all the
these sincere feelings of bless that it gives me wherever I happen to read. It's such a
desperate call in a way for something that we miss nowadays in our daily reality: mutual
love, serenity and harmony. Thank you so much for the tag. I just like your poem.
June 14, 2010 at 11:18
Arbia Hkimi although you didn't make a tag for me in this thrilling poem I would say you
are the among the best poets Chokri ..believe me this is not a mere compliment rather
than this is the truth I can't really utter any word in front of yours ..amazing !!
June 14, 2010 at 15:24
Chokri Omri Meriem, Louai and Arbia
Thank you for making so inextricable a part in the circle of my rare friends. I am so
happy because you liked the poem. I did not feel as happy as I do now when I composed
it. He/She who is sensible, because sensitive, to poetry, he/she must be healed and
blessed by the balm of Love. I love you all friends.
June 14, 2010 at 23:10
Arbia Hkimi we love you Chokri you and we do appreciate your poems because u r in
fact a great poet
June 15, 2010 at 15:24
Fussy Glacée veeeeeeeeeery sensitive. U know chekroun I admire the mature child in u.
U have the childish keen eye for perception and the maturity to weave what u perceive in
an appropriate texture. U have the language, but also u have the innocence. U r really
someone exceptional. Good luck dear.
what do u expect me to say? just wonderful!!
July 29, 2010 at 0:48
Chokri Omri Wafa, thank you for being my friend. I trust every single word you said to
me. I am happy because I have fortunately come to know a person of your sincere and
noble nature. Rabbi yahfdhek wywafkek Okhti El Aziza.
July 30, 2010 at 1:36
El Habib Louai Thank you so much for tagging me here my friend. I am so sorry I've
been away all this time busy with some personal matters, but I promise I'll express my
thoughts on this well-wrought poem as soon as I read it in that muse speculative mood.
July 30, 2010 at 11:41
Fussy Glacée 3aych 5ouya isim7 chekroun. Winti zeda Rabbi ya3tik koul ma titmanna
tistehil koul 5ir fidinya.
August 1, 2010 at 19:44
Catherine and the beggar (A short story by Chokri Omri)
May 6, 2010 at 3:30
No sooner did the storm abate, no sooner did the rain stop, no sooner did the daylight
establish itself in the place of darkness, and then the streets grew crowded with people.
No sooner were Catherine and the poor gentleman seen, children hurried and dashed to
them. Men and Women were passing and wondering and saying things about Catherine
and The beggar but in passing as they had always done when they chance to witness a
similar scene. For them, it is undoubtedly a comic scene instead of being a tragic one. It
is a comic scene because as Man (and Woman as well) sows, so shall he or she reap. A
comic scene generative of laughter for them because Catherine and the beggar are now
moaning for the harvest they have reapt. May be they were caught committing one of the
cardinal sins. So they died in the rain as a sorte of punishment. Perhaps they were killed
by the police and thrown away in the street for every one to see and learn the lesson. Or
probably, why? It is very probable that they passed away because they had not tried at
least to cover their shame and instead they were trumpeting it in the rain. So they died. It
was always said that a man (and woman of course!) never goes around trumpeting his or
her shame. But here can anything be made of the shame Catherine and the beggar had
been moving through at night? God never forgive those who are trumpeting their shame.
If only they tried a little bit to hide themselves so that people would not come across
them and take them for the principal cause of the absence of happy days. If only they
tried a little bit to call for help when they were about to die so that people would come to
their rescue no matter what kind of shame or cardinal sin they had undergone or
committed. People would not mind forgiving them for that provided that they do it in
secret not in the street and what is more at night. But then, what makes a girl like
Catherine go at night to meet a man like this beggar and then die in this manner in the
street? Perhaps they were ashamed of their deed and consequently found nothing and no
body to resort to in the middle of a storm so railing and embracing the night before. They
should have waited for a better prospect of place and time.
Children, having approached the two lovers, became filled with fear and started to yell
and shout and run here and there like people confronting the oppressing armed forces. It
was only at that moment when pedestrians realized the critical situation and began to be
aware of what a man and woman have made of themselves. More and more folks
gathered around the victims and the noise started. No less than three ladies and one old
man, when casting sight on Catherine and the beggar, found quickest access to and
lapsed into unconsciousness. The wail of ambulance sirens was heard and the medical
crew stepped down as soon as the ambulance stopped. They elbowed their ways with
difficulty in the incredible crowd of people. The police alarms went off and every one
recognized then what a man and woman have made of themselves. The scene, to the
greatest disappointment of many a man and woman, did not prove to be comic. It did not
even prove to be tragic. It was real and this is how it was.
Have we not reason to lament what Catherine and the poor young gentle man have made
of themselves? We have and there is as a matter of fact more to Catherine and the poor
young gentle man than what the pen has written or could still write. To lament the loss of
something requires no more than awareness. To lament the loss of somebody requires no
more than acting and make belief. Here, the case is awfully different. Here, to lament
requires no less than madness. Madness of the type of King Lear‘s. To lament, faced with
this case, presents the human savagery in its most disgusting form. Nobody must be
allowed to cry and display his or her weakness and misery. Catherine‘s mother herself
must not be permitted to shed tears over the loss of her daughter. She is more than
welcome to watch over her self and go on waiting for her husband day and night. She is
more than welcome to pray for her daughter and wonder where she wanted to go last
night. As for her husband, the most open-minded and affluent merchant of the city, he
needs to develop his ideas and sharpen his arguments about domesticity and harnesses
further what he takes to be natural upbringing by means of communication. He is now in
perfect position to illustrate his conduct and point out to the loss of his daughter as an
outstanding example sustaining his theory of domesticity. A framework of reference is
now made accessible by the way.
What does it mean to lament? Or to say it differently, what meaning does human
lamentation offer? There is, in fact, far more and more to lamentation than the poor
meaning it offers.
All any one can say is without sense when silence makes sense. These words are far from
expressing what silence could express
Schizophrenia is but one psychological aspect characterizing the one who laments over
the loss of somebody or something When the victims, the story intervenes, were
carried to the central hospital of the city in almost no time, time was not important. There
was no cause for anxiety and fear. The clinical circle coupled with voluntary medical
doctors and assisted with surgeons were to bring Catherine and her beloved back into
life. It was great! By all standards and accounts, it was great! The two lovers were
brought back to life in order to face death more clearly than ever before.
God, the almighty, cure the patients, and the clinical circle takes the
fee.
Askri Abdelfatteh oh no Chokri; a tragic story with a happy end.
May 6, 2010 at 4:02
Chokri Omri Dear Friend, the story is in the making. There waits for me a long way
before it is finalized. This is just an exerpt from it. Happy ending, oh Abdelfatteh, I hope
you are joking.
May 6, 2010 at 14:45
Arbia Hkimi waw very nice begining keep it up Chokri !!.. I think that your short story is
at the heart of postcolonialism because it bears within its lines the story of RL's Dream ..
May 7, 2010 at 9:21
Chokri Omri Thank you so much Arbia. This is what we mean by the universalistic
dimension of literature. Otherwise, it will be good for nothing.
May 8, 2010 at 1:03
Askri Abdelfatteh hi dr. Chokri lol; i hope that ur story finishes here.lool.
May 9, 2010 at 21:51
Fussy Glacée hey rose leaf!! I just loved the ending. By the way, I guess we all r
schizophrenic in different ways. ur writing propensities please me a lot. Wish u all the
best.
May 11, 2010 at 16:22
NOT DOWN THE WIND SHALL ALL THE WORDS FLOW BY CHOKRI OMRI
May 5, 2010 at 1:41
It was not long ago that this was cropping up in my mind. But in truth,
I did not want it to be or at best to end this way. It is not the kind of thing, I
wish to make clear, I would accept in this life that is mine. I tried many a time
to take it at once for an indecent idea because it is, indeed, one and by no
means a decent one: To wait for others to offer you that which, had you
worked upon it yourself, you would have made it come into being without their
help. This is not so difficult a task to move through towards the light instead of
remaining in the dark waiting and nobody around appears to care. It is just, I
must say, within the limits of the possible to have your mind made up to it
without any impalpability. But then, let me say it no more. I take
responsibility for all of this and you take none. I have something to say to you
while you have none. It has never before come to my notice that I know so
little of you. I have wanted to come closer to you, to be with you, to see you,
and then to stop listening to what others say about me and you. Take all the
time you need but never ask me what difference there can be between wanting
and obtaining. It is my conviction that of all those upon whom the sun shines,
only those who help themselves will yearn for being helped. In the meantime,
were anyone to take the liberty of asking me who would come to their help, I
would perhaps say it is not any concern of mine. They are helping themselves.
Do you not at all understand? They are helping themselves. God help them,
please, and they are really helping themselves. They are not to be left wanting.
They are looking for a way out of this extremely painful universe where things
come and go and people never know. Have I said it to you? No. Then, have I
wanted to say it to you? No. But then, have I gleaned it out of nothing just to
say it to you? No.
I think I will let you know. There came few tears to my eyes when I saw that
the reason behind this all is past finding out. It‘s my dignity that prevents me
from knowing why. But at the same time, it is that which guides me into
saying this to you: Never come back to me. I am not waiting for the unknown
to be known. I am not waiting anymore. My way is still long; I think I will be
the man who never trifles with time. I will say after Friederich Hölderlin:
―Let us live, oh you who are with me in sorrow, with me in faith
And heart and loyalty struggling for better times!
For such we are and if ever in the coming years they knew
Of us two when the spirit matters again
They would say: lovers in those days, alone, they created
Their secret world that only the Gods knew. For who
Cares only for things that will die, the earth will have them, but
Near the light, into the clarities come
Those keeping faith with the heart‘s love and Holy Spirit who were
Hopeful, patient, still, and got the better of fate.‖
They got the better of fate. It is not so beyond human understanding. They
have never found themselves in a way in which they take advantage of others.
There is this presence in their lives of what one calls faith. Faith in everything
that bodes and portends with life, faith in human nature as far as it can really
go, faith in all that is holy and divine the paucity of which generates as much
pain and contrition as such that might be grasped in those who lost
accordingly faith in themselves. There is no possible reason for them to do
otherwise because they have succeeded in making radical distinctions between
what is essential and what is trivial. Of course, to say la moindre des choses,
there is yet another significant aspect that must be attributed to their lives. By
this, I mean hard work. Faith and hard work when compacted will
undoubtedly have their effect and meaning. Hard work, arduousness but also
industry; these are things we should not cast out into oblivion if ever real life is
to us a worthy endeavour. We all need to struggle for better times. Let us help
our selves for the sake of our selves and hence for the sake of God. Courage still
resides in our hearts. Courage and temperance are fundamental human
attributes that must be at any cost foisted upon us. Agathy is never absent. It is
never lost for fear. We are agathious from creation to the general doom. We
only do not seem to be aware of that because of the film of familiarity which
obscures from us the wonder of our being as Shelley would put it. There are
many rips in our lives. What do we do vis- à- vis them? It is really up to us to
decide whether or not they are going to be mended. Or are they to be left
unmended? It is up to us to mend these rips and walk through them to the light
or remain forever in the dark. There is more enterprise in striving to repair
some of the erroneous things in the world rather than to clench our hands over
our foreheads and then foolishly shed tears over them. Let us make a
terrestrial galaxy as the stars do in the sky. To put it, in short, and in as a few
words as possible, let us create our secret world because the outside world is not
doing very well. Why cannot we stop caring for the material and the sensual?
Why cannot we stop caring for the things that will die? Let us feel for the
spiritual. There is still much hope since, as I like to think and would like to put
it, we have not learned enough despair so as not to hope. Despair and hope do
not cause us to be ridiculous. To work arduously and then yearn for a better
future is not to be found cloistered within the boundaries of idealism. It is
altogether apparent the fact that our minds and hearts, for the time being, are
not unfortunately set on the same arena of expectation. Our lives, to say
perhaps the least, are shrouded in obscurity and by way of consequence not a
good number of things are made clear.
We are persistently catering for indeterminacy and eclecticism while being
morceled and devoured by doubt or precisely nous sommes pris par voie de
conséquence dans les supputations du doute as they say in french. Under the
spell and delusion of amorality which contains a heavy dose of immorality we
are celebrating the spirit of the age. Many are those who are coming in but few
are those who feel like going out.
Look at how the world‘s poor people are amazed
At apparitions, signs, and prodigies,
Whereon with fearful eyes they long have gazed,
Infusing them with dreadful prophecies.
Should we thus draw up our breath at these sad signs, and sigh again and
exclaim on death?
When the spirit starts mattering again, few, indeed, are those who will
understand. After all, we have no one to blame and reprimand for this except
ourselves. There are things of importance left behind which must operate again
as they had done in the remote passing days. It is Eros, we believe, and not
Priapos, we still believe, who wanted to move no further after the objective he
gave his life to. It is his ―restless expansive tendency‖ towards love as Sigmund
Freud had put it which comes into sharp contrast and opposition with the
―generally conservative nature of the drives‖ causing it hence to be threatened
all the time. But then, Eros is inaccessible to those who lack love as well as
spiritual insight. He is inaccessible to the profanum vulgus. ― Only he who
himself turns to the other human being and opens himself to him receives the
world in him. Only the being whose otherness, accepted by my being, lives and
faces me in the whole compression of existence, brings the radiance of eternity
to me‖. Martin Buber is ultimately clear enough to be understood. When
Adonis lived, it is not the sun and the sharp air which lurked like two thieves to
rob him of his fair as Shakespeare maintained. Adonis does not blame it for the
destiny. He must be held responsible for the loss of Cytherea. She was all in
love forlorn. Had he loved her with a love so over-powering as she did, no sun,
no sharp air, no whatever would have deprived him of her. It is love, say
mutual love or any other , which alone brings things together. It is that which,
I must say again, brings people together and makes an extraordinary galaxy
out of them. We must struggle for the sake of it and stand in no comformity
with their vulgarism and disparaging gestures. Most of all, we must put under
question and not merely cleave to the values established by tradition. Patterned
thinking will lead almost nowhere. Only by straying afield of our selves and of
tradition innovation and accuracy as regards our lives will become possible.
This is to be evidenced not only in our selves but equally in the kind of
knowledge we unfailingly continue to receive and accept without checking or
verification. Michel Foucault‘s prolific work in sociology but then in
philosophy would not find the means and ploys to open up new avenues of
research and enquiry in history and the social sciences if it remained
imprisoned by tradition and atavism. Foucault‘s sociological and philosophical
output, Steven Connor makes clear, refused to stay within the established and
precomprehended territories of theory and thereby succeeded remarkeably in
adding and contributing to the over all human knowledge. ‗After all, what
would be the value of the passion of knowledge if it resulted in a certain
amount of knowledgeableness, and not, in one way or another and to the
extent possible, in the knower‘s straying afield of himself?‘ Foucault would
remind us in his essay on ‗ The use of pleasure‘.
‗The passion of knowledge‘; It is interesting to see in it this astounding
interaction and intermingling of both heart and mind. Passion with regard to
knowledge. What offspring will there be if this passion of knowledge revamps
into a love of knowledge?
Let us think about love and feel it henceforth. To love means to act and not to
just say empty words that would add more horror to life. Call it as you like but
love is more than what people think. There is, this is it, more to love than what
many people think. It is the most important thing in life. To love, J.
Krishnamurti wrote, means to be sensitive. To be sensitive is to feel for people,
for birds, for flowers, for trees_ not because they are ours, but just because we
are awake to the extraordinary beauty of things. We are awake through
knowledge and not through ignorance and fear. Love is capable of making
wonderful things. It is capable of changing evrything by the way. Love of
knowledge with which we will be in a position to love better and not and no
longer say empty words and do empty deeds. It is, to make a long story short,
that which whose power energizes our minds and hearts and establishes a
perfect way of interaction and excahange between them.
Without love, I shall not be able to write this paper in the first place. But in
order to better comprehend this without any impalpability as I said above, I
will adopt a very special approach to this theme bearing in mind that any
limitation I am likely to be entrapped in is due, on the one hand, to my timid
but never hesitant nature and then, on the other, to the absence of this
energizing power of love in the face of this conservative nature of the drives as
Freud maintained. I will then attempt to disprove Friedrish Shiller‘s
proposition that the mechanism of the world is held together by hunger and
love.
I shall first start out with reading Shakespeare‘s sonnet number 116:
Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove;
O, no! it is an ever-fixed mark,
That looks on tempests, and is never shaken,
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth‘s unknown, although his height be taken.
Love‘s not Time‘s fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle‘s compass come;
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error, and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.
To embark upon knowledge by means of ignorance is to do the wrong deed for
the right reason. Let no one make and take and take again the very
preposterous discovery and then tell me all of a sudden that this sonnet is
great. For I know beforehand and, as a matter of fact, my concern is not to
testify to the greatness of this sonnet but rather to what sort of message
William Shakespeare feels like delivering to us on the cess of it. My aim, I
insist, is two-fold; Together with putting Shiller‘s dictum into question by way
of criticism levelled against his ambivalent philosophical stance, I will show
how the theme of love has been treated from the renaissance period. The
renaissance period, in fact, did not have to wait for England so as to be
incepted. It started rather in Italy and Spain and it became henceforth a
widespread phenomenon thanks both to its flexible operational processes and
the accessibility and clarity of its ideas having to do with revival and at the
same time diremption of the past. I will start with this second tenant of my aim
and leave the first one to the second part so as to save my essay from
inaccurracy and barren formalism.
The renaissance era makes explicit the fact that Love stands out as an
indispensable feature of man‘s desire not so much to exist but more
importantly to better exist. To exist without looking towards a better prospect
of life is simply to exist, though hesitatingly, like subalterns. To better exist
without looking backward is simply to live, though forcibly, like no one else.
What possible sense is to be obtained out of the first line and the first half of
the second in this sonnet? No obstacles, the speaker seems to say, should be
allowed to stand out against the marriage of true minds. True minds are
according to me evocative of those people whose better parts (their minds) are
personified and whose ultimate objective of life is unity and not division or
separation. John Donne, the supposedly metaphysical poet, is of some proper
help to us in this respect. He somewhere in his poems pointed out to the fact
that without love, we can have no way but falsehood to be true. But here
again, we must protest and say that the sonnet under consideration is referring
to true minds. We know that love is the output of our hearts.
True people, to justify the first idea mentioned above, do not fall or degenerate
into making the mistake of allowing conflictual relationships to be established
between their minds and hearts. If our hearts, to be more precise, are devoid of
love, then our minds are not likely going to become true nor will they really be
able to produce let alone to contribute to human knowledge.
People, at least those who know they have got minds, which scarcely happens
in these bleak times, will admit no impediments to the marriage of their minds.
But minds, after all, do not unify as Gary lane would have it. Minds see
differences not unities, they divide. There is then something of paramount
importance to be present for the marriage of true minds. Not all minds are true
and this is why there must exist a paradigm to see which minds are true and
which minds are not. To say the like but differently, people should set their
minds on things that are fundamental and vital for unity and peaceful
coexistence. If they cherish some love for one another, they will never find
themselves obliged to be indecent or accept to be divided. This is how it goes,
nobody wants to be cruel with people but sometimes they are and not the
circumstances they do need to be taken forcibly for the principal cause of his or
her behaviour at their expence. Let us but take for the sake of clarification and
illustration the French philosopher Jean Jacques Rousseau who albeit feeling
so intensely for the unity of people when he wrote ―The social contract‖ ended
up living in solitude with an almost chattered character. He refused to see
people or to even read what they wrote. ―The reveries of a solitary stroller‖, the
last book he wrote though, we regret to say, it remained unfinished due to his
tragic death, is expressive of this a great deal. He, after having purported to
establish some proper order upon society through the social contract, quickly
found himself lost and in an incomprehensible chaos at the end of his life.
‗Tiré je ne sais comment de l‘ordre des choses, je me suis vu précipité dans un chaos
incompréhensible ou‘ je n‘aperçois rien du tout; et plus je pense à ma situation présente
et
moins je puis comprendre ou‘ je suis‘.
Then, later in ‗The reveries of a solitary stroller‘, he has got also at his disposal
this to say about the harm people did to him he the one who never wanted to
cause anyone any harm.
‗Avec le dédain qu‘il m‘ont inspiré leur commerce me serait insipide et même à charge,
et je
suis cent fois plus heureux dans ma solitude que je ne pourrait l‘etre en vivant avec eux .
Ils
ont arraché de mon coeur toutes les douceurs de la société et quoi qu‘ils fassent, mes
contemporains ne seront jamais rien pour moi.
Friedrish Holderlin, Nietsczche‘s but also Heidegger‘s favourite poet or as the
latter likes to call him the ‗poet of poets‘, never found one single reason for not
confessing his ultimate disenchantement towards those who treated him
unreasonably at the very time of his mental breakdown. There is no asking of
the question why he went insane for more than twenty years. He opted for
solitude so as to forget but then realized that people could not even remember
what he was trying to forget. He said: ―Now I only understand man when I am
far away from him and living in solitude‖. Mais qui sait aujourd‘hui ce que
c‘est que la solitude?
But then, Nietszche. What did he say when he finished up being sick of every
one and his sister and his mother were not to make the exception? He knew
that something must necessarily be at stake which he could not find out. So, he
opted obligingly for silence and kneeled down to a maxim of the past he the
one who hated maximes and proverbs in the deep recesses of his heart.
‗Ma philosophie me conseille de me taire et de ne pas pousser plus loin les questions;
surtout
que, dans certains cas, comme l‘indique le proverbe, on ne reste philosophe qu‘en
gardant le
silence.‘
The marriage of true minds then, to rivert back to the sonnet, will become
possible only when impediments, say obstacles, are kept away from its course.
It must not be forgotten that here the word ―marriage‖ is extremely important
in that it is overloaded with sense and meaning because it refers to willed
commitment and constancy. But in order for this to have a longevity and
persistence there must be something upon which we can hinge and even call
upon to keep this motive activated. It must be pointed out that marriage is
never admired for its own sake. It is admired for the promise it is supposed to
hail for the sake of unity. Were it not for the fact that, so to speak, it aims at
stabilizing and ordering people‘s lives and that it paves the very way for them
to live together peacefully and harmoniously, marriage would, more often than
not, find people themselves as impediments.
For want of a wider intelligibility with regard to our intention to work out a
closer appreciation of the sonnet, let it be made clear right from the onset that
no matter how far we seem to be from being able to come to terms with the
exacting message of the sonnet if we undertake and level one hasty reading of
it, we can, nevertheless, manage to say that it represnts what Friedrish
Holderlin calls ―an extended metaphor‖ not so much of what cannot be said
directly but rather of that which whose aim is to reflect upon the nature of love
and establish a clear rapport between it and the reality it seeks to uplift and
improve.
‗La parole germinative‘ of this sonnet is perhaps this one which prompted
Shakespeare to express it in six lines and a half:
Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove;
O, no! It is an ever- fixed mark,
That looks on tempests, and is never shaken,
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth‘s unknown, although his height be taken.
It is not here any business of ours to maintain that the form a Shakesperian
sonnet will take is one of three quatrins and a closing couplet. We are rather
and more importantly of the very insatiable desire to concern our selves with
the part of it that keeps the content of the sonnet brighter than therest do. Au
lieu de faire une vague allusion à la forme, il faut se demander quelle est sa
fonction comme sédimentation du contenu. Here, I assume, the substance is
found in these six lines and a half. I would not care so much if the remaining
parts of the sonnet were to get wiped off and disappear. Shakespeare himself,
were he to be told this, would pull himself together and help me in doing this.
Love is not love which changes with the time. If ever it changes, then let us be
in the apodectic certainty that it is anything but love. Love does not encourage
the remover of love to remove the object of love. It may encourage him to
remove obstacles like people for example but not to remove the very object of
love because otherwise it is lost and then we go back to the point we started
from which holds the view of Shakespeare that love should not change with the
time. Love is an ever-fixed mark. Love is the star to every wandering bark.
It is worth pointing out at this stage of our reading the distinction Shakespeare
wanted to make and did in fact about a fixed mark and the star which, to our
minds, they represent the two most important elements of the metaphoric
bearing they must have on love. Love is first a fixed mark.
Shakespeare wanted it to be indefinite when using the indefinite article ‗a‘ in
order perhaps to mock people on earth who are changing all the time and then
keep on claiming that they are definite.
Shakespeare could have said for example that love is the fixed mark. The
reason behind his avoidance of that is perhaps this one: He does not want love
to be associated with anything because when using the definite article ‗the‘ he
would necessarily find himself under the obligation of associating love with an
earthly claim. Then, by the same token, he held that love is the star feeling
thereby some sort of relief in escaping earthly objects and rising so high to the
skies which he does not know and yet insisted on using the definite article ‗the‘
in order to mock people time and again by showing how he places his faith in
what is transcendental and how he assigns the definite to the indefinite and the
indefinite to the definite. This sonnet is not great yet. Let us put patiently aside
our impatience.
Chokri Omri This article is dedicated with love to all my friends.
May 5, 2010 at 1:51
MOuha PlidbOoy Sixíémę Čőmpté great chokri...love it...thank you my brother
:))))))))))))))))
May 5, 2010 at 9:53
Ali Jemai voila 1 vrais ami..
May 5, 2010 at 13:34
Maroua Pandora I enjoyed it even though I disagree with some concepts dealt with.
May 5, 2010 at 13:38
Arbia Hkimi very thrilling thx a lot Chokri ..
May 5, 2010 at 16:21
Sameh Feddaoui go ahead chokri. im proud of being your friend
May 5, 2010 at 20:24
Waleed Khaldi as great as what u always write, dear chokri! really proud of u.. carry on!
May 6, 2010 at 0:17
Chokri Omri Thank you so much dear friends not just for the comments but also for
giving me new reasons for love, hope and determination to live with you in a world
different from theirs. Thank you dearly.
May 6, 2010 at 2:20
Le Triomphe d'amour sur La mort by Chokri Omri
April 18, 2010 at 21:18
The Triumph of Love over Death
My heart, my mind, the two worked together,
Each of them elemented and fostered my spirit.
Some day, a stranger stepped in seeking decent weather;
The guest waited for the host to meet and gain the merit.
Whose turn is this? Whose undertaking? Such was the blather;
My heart greeting, my mind retreating, such was my spirit.
But then, see
My spirit is elemented by both and favours no one to the other;
With brimming eyes, tempestuous sighs, the guest was asked out.
'Keep out', the mind asserted, 'keep always the doors clean'
Next to breaking, my heart to the balm has waved out;
'Be around, Love, be sound. Seek neither weather nor wind'
'Come again, Love, come and feel for them all the blind'
'Wipe out your tears, shed only more of them, Love, in not out'
'For nothing great, nothing radiant without you will come about'
My spirit, O spirit, without this guest you are then dead.
Reason, what reason? Mind, O mind till when this nonsense?
"Life will prevail until death prevails" thus was said;
But Love shall triumph, crown the beauty of life and hence
Love shall prevail, read life again, over the mind and its death.
Chokri Omri
Tunis, le 30/ 03/ 2009
Lazhar Bouazzi there's a lot of rhythm in this text; it's beautiful !!
April 18, 2010 at 23:39
Sameh Feddaoui no comment chokri. that Allah be with you
April 18, 2010 at 23:59
Chokri Omri Thank you so much for your remarks. I hope you are doing great.
April 20, 2010 at 12:57
Aneas Fer Ineffable !!! as simple as that !!!
April 20, 2010 at 17:28
Oussama Hedhli 7lowa ya Chokri. ;)
April 21, 2010 at 0:25
Amira Saidani Mkaddem All what i can say 'Mashea Allah wa la 9owata ella Bellah'...ur
words unveil ur sensitive side...Raby ye7mik ya khouya...
April 21, 2010 at 12:56
MEDITATIONS by Chokri Omri
April 9, 2010 at 14:19
"Advice to Intellectuals: Let no one represent you."
T. Adorno
We cannot really hope to be in proportion with one another or to be, at best and at least,
peacefully coexisting while everybody is paying close attention to himself/herself and
feeling cold towards the others. We cannot even claim that we belong to the same stock
while everyone is pretending not to know his brothers and sisters. What is funny, but
shameful nevertheless, is the fact that, when it comes to approach one‘s interest from any
possible perspective, the outrage presents itself in the form of a jungle in which the weak
are to be sent to hell and the strong are to survive at their expense. How can the one of us
permit his lungs to push the air into the vocal cords so as to say that life is fair when there
is really almost nothing in it in a state of order save chaos and anarchy?
To be longing for something noble and virtuous has now become quite useless in this age
of deformity when what is essential is made ridiculous and what is not is vital. They have
said it without shame: La vertu ne serait donc que de la làcheté. They have even moved
as far as to say without shame: Here only the evil can afford to be good. It is possibly fair
in this respect to say that one has at least to keep his jaw muscles in the closed position
against this triviality that people never stop exhibiting. For otherwise, things would be
worse than ever before. There is indeed something worse than injustice and that is justice
itself when not only ―does it not have its arms in its hands but also it has its hands in its
pockets.‖ Do we really need to be like this in order to live? Of course not!!! We can be
fair with one another and life will venerate this and never frown at us. It is tremendously
significant for us to keep in mind that every now and then we should make mistakes. It is
extremely important for us to make mistakes. It is because at that moment we can learn
and profit. Voltaire, the most unfriendly French philosopher once stated:
―Believe me my friend, even the mistake has its own significance.‖
Experience, in its essence, is definitely what we get when we are expecting something
else. L‘experience, as they in French, est toujours couteuse.
It is perfectly righteous to say that the value of man resides in what he is and not in what
he has. But what about the attitude we never cease to have towards poor people? Do they
really have to be bad in order to be appreciated? Do they have to forget about their
principles and immediately address themselves to the act of wearing those several
painted faces so as to meet all occasions? Do they really have to reduce themselves and
sink to the most profound degrees of hypocrisy in order to rise up to the level of seeing
rich people eye to eye? Still, if it is to be put in a clear way, do they have to undergo and
move through those realms of faked appearance and dirty pride in order to go on living
till tomorrow?
If we can just see the beggar who gets his face and rugs crumbled into the dust as the rich
man‘s car goes by, we can understand many and many things about life. When you don‘t
feel any respect for the servant who serves or the villager who sows, but only for those
from whom you hope to get something, try, please, to help yourself by keeping quiet and
silent, for nobody will allow himself to appreciate your behaviour.
One day, devoid of bribery or exceptions, every one of us will face the trouble of
providing an answer to the one single question: Why have you lived like that? We will
certainly be called upon to give accountability for all that has taken place on this earth
whose safety and maintaining had long been recommended by God. Various answers are
to be produced upon this very simple question. To attempt to categorize them can bring
us to two possible perspectives: The oppressors and the oppressed.
The former will of course find it pretty manageable to meet this question. There go the
oppressors of the poor. They will say that they chose to live like that because of those
who are oppressed. They assaulted, wounded, lied, stole, led and killed for the simple and
obvious reason that the oppressed were ready to concede and accept that kind of business
and did nothing to cope with it. They never tried to make themselves at once useful and
effective to confront these oppressors and reduce them to their own trivial boundaries.
Let us just try to find out the secrecy behind their incredible power and authority over
every one of us. It is very simple to get it out without the need of making any effort. It is
because the secret is that there is no secret at all. The oppressors were too much powerful
because the oppressed were too much weak. How could they acquire all that
metamorphosed influence if the weak were not weak? I, myself, do not seem to know
only the very thing which stipulates that it is from the weakness that we can hope to
derive power. How can I deprive or prevent myself from having that power if you don‘t
stop me from doing so? Mais où est cet accord aimable de la justice et du bonheur en un
temps comme le notre où le malheur de l‘un fait le bonheur de l‘autre ? You will say
there is justice that governs every state of being. You will say that this justice is placed in
the hands of our representatives and that it is intensified with our continuous and never
interrupted consent. It is perfect. Who said something different from this? They are,
indeed, our representatives. They are, by all standards and means, our representatives.
But in what? Let us wonder and ask rather than wait and lose. They will not even make
the mistake of listening to us. It is so settled and there is according to them no disputing
of the fact that we are asking dolting questions if not absurd ones. It is so settled and he
who is ignorant will never cater for his ignorance except by receiving readymade answers
(most of them are bad ones because we do not know who undertook the task of making
them for us and upon what grounds and with reference to what questions. We are not
allowed to ask questions because we are ignorant and if we are not we are to be exposed
to a questionnaire because our questions are dolting and may give enough room to
disorder and impediment). These representatives, in short, were they true representatives,
and most of all free from external force or private bribery, nothing could pass here but
what we and they (they are the instruments of power not those who content themselves
with asking questions out of fatigue) think is for the public advantage. You will also say,
to move on to a matter of more worth and value, that we are all asked to abide ourselves
by this justice. Can you please tell me where can I find this justice in order to pull myself
together and get myself swayed under its instructions? Daniel Defoe, in this respect,
would quickly come to my rescue against this extremely painful speculation and say in A
Hymn to the Pillory (1703):
But Justice is inverted when
Those Engines of the law
Instead of pinching Vicious Men,
Keep Honest ones in awe;
Thy business is, as all Men know,
To punish villains, not to make Men so.
___This is an excerpt gleaned from MEDITATIONS, a novel still in the
making.
Aneas Fer AWESOME!!! thank u dear friend !!!
April 9, 2010 at 16:10
Yasser Zoghlami hey man thx
April 9, 2010 at 18:05
MOuha PlidbOoy Sixíémę Čőmpté great chokri......u re the best chapeau my brother
April 9, 2010 at 18:19
Aneas Fer I'm speechless !!! greater than greatness !!!!
April 9, 2010 at 19:25
Lazhar Bouazzi Thanks Chokri for the tag. I am honored! The text is good; in it there are
some powerful and illuminating moments. ex:"the outrage presents itself in the form of a
jungle in which . . . the strong are to survive at their own expense" !! Thanks again for
the tag !!
April 9, 2010 at 22:25
Chokri Omri @To all my friends:
I am beholden to you for your attention and kindness. This note has no further claim to
value without your remarks on it.
@To my dear Teacher:
The Honour is mine, Sir. If I have chosen to post this note, It is merely because I see in
you that which imbues me with hope, harmony, and energy to hold on and go ahead. One
comment, now gone, caused me to reconsider many things about myself and the rapport
it seeks to establish with Human Beings. Thank you by every means. All the best.
April 10, 2010 at 3:53
Oussama Hedhli Please keep it up, Chokri. I want to see that novel finished. So thankful
for the tag. Loved the Daniel Defoe's excerpt.
April 12, 2010 at 0:46
Aneas Fer "Justice is yet to come." Your piece is of a tremendous thoughfulness. Believe
me chokri, I had the hibbie jibbie while reading ur text. Its ineffable quality overwhelms
me. That being the case, I give u this Shakespearean exceprt as it best illustrates your
ingenuity:
"What a piece of work is man!/How noble in reason!/how infinite in faculty!"
However short it might seem, your text overloads with humanism and humaneness.
This springs trully from the bottom of my heart. I'll keep my fingers crossed to reading
your novel.
April 12, 2010 at 2:06
Chokri Omri @Oussama
I am happy to see your name again on the screen. I hope you are doing great.
@Med Anis Fer
Believe me, dear friend, your remarks are so valuable to me. Inchalla Rabbi ywafkek.
You have helped me so much in regaining hope of good friendship and company. The
novel is in its final stage. I will give you a manuscript of it soon. Take better care and
thank you very much for your attention and thoughtfulness.
April 12, 2010 at 21:47
Chokri Omri Thank you so much Hiba.
April 13, 2010 at 0:47
Taieb Jbeli I really admired your text!impresive and expressive it is:) i was busy last
period this is why i did not comment on what you wrote!again go ahead,writing is the
best thing you can do!!!! but justice my brother is a big question you know how
philosophers dealt with it, i may say the term justice is void especially .................
April 13, 2010 at 22:05
Chokri Omri Taieb, I hope you are fine.
April 14, 2010 at 11:11
Ammar Jaballi your article dear chokri is the sign of your greatness whenever trying to
find a good representation of these circumstances of life. It is necessary in this case to
wish you the best chance and success in your next articles. move on straight forward
brother and believe me you will get sooner what are searching about.
April 14, 2010 at 12:24
This Is The Place To Wait
January 8, 2010 at 21:00
When you are caught breathless in an empty station
and silence tells you that the train is gone,
as though it were something for which
you alone were not prepared
and yet was here and could not be denied;
when you whisper, Why was I late, what have I done?,
you know the waiting hour is at your side.
If the time becomes your own, you need not fear it;
if you can tell yourself the hour is not
the thing that takes you when you sit
staring through clinic waiting-room white walls
into the blank blue northern sky
frozen a quarter mile above the street,
and you are held there by your veins and nerves
spreading and grasping as a grapevine curves
through the arms and back of
an enamelled iron riverside park seat,
you need not think, why must I wait
until the doctors say:
"We have come to lock you up.It's the psychology of things that got you down;
if you complain, we shall take care of you
until you know at last you can't escape
Is your dreamthe dream of a child kept after school, made to write a hundred times
what three times seven means,
while in your sleep, before you get to answer,
the blackness fills and swells with pictures
of Technicolor inkstain butterflies?
Is that ink blot a tigerin a bonfire? are these the spines
of ancient caterpillars?
Is this the shadow of wildwood, leaping deer?
is that what you see, or what you think you see?
then we can tell you what you are,
what you can do, and what you ought to be,
as though your life were written down in court,
your name the last word on a questionnaire.
There is nothing private that we do not know;
you can't deny these figures on a chart
that follow you no matter where you go.
Each zero s an open, sleepless eye
piercing the hidden chambers of the heart,
and if you fail, or if you kill yourself,
we shall know why."
It is when the waiting forces you to stop
in stillness that you wish would not return
that you say, I am not the same as other men;
I must live to wake beyond the fears of hope
into an hour that does not quite arrive. . . .
And in that quiet, lost in space, almost remember
the difficult, newborn creature you once were,
in love with all the wonders of the world,
seeing a girl step, white and glittering as a fountain,
into cool evening air,
knowing you could not touch her,
or dare to still the floating, flawless motion
of that pale dress above its glancing knees,
brief as the sight of sun on Easter morning
dancing its joy of earth and spring and heaven
over the sleeping bodies of men in cities
and between the branches of the tallest trees.
It is then you tell yourself,
Everything I live for is not quite lost.
Even if you've waited someplace far too long,
if you can't call it peace, you call it rest;
if you can't call it luck, you call it fate;
you then know that when anything goes wrong,
perhaps it also happened in the past.
You light a cigarette, you carefully
blow out the match.
You know again you have to wait.
HORACE GREGORY
The way to God by CHOKRI OMRI
October 5, 2009 at 12:08
There is only one way which is flooded with light and wisdom. It is the way to God.
Some people think that this way is tremendously arduous and difficult but it is certainly
worthy of the effort. Some others refrain from thinking and rest on the contention that
nobody holds the truth. This note will tip the balance in favour of the former and plead
the latter to think twice before adopting such an attitude. We always need to think about
God and the vast universe created for us. Truly, the way to the almighty is an arduous
and difficult one. This, however, should not hide the fact that it is the most rewarding and
fruitful of ways because in it we are sustained with faith and wisdom. It has long been
vindicated and ramified the conviction that everything of substance and significance has
a demanding and perilous way before it. There is nothing worse than the failure to try.
Just like indifference, it propels the poor towards their destruction. If we want to succeed
in our education, just to give an example, we are fully aware of the huge task we are to
move through. To forget about it and yet continue to wait for success must come up with
only disappointment. We are all in for a depression if we hope to get something for
which we have not worked. This is perhaps it. The way to God is highly challenging. It
requires no less than sincerity and consistency of words and deeds. To conflate between
things threatens the whole castle of faith to topple down. Sincere feelings and thoughts
are always productive of faith. Faith in God and hence subsequent faith in ourselves drive
energy, harmony and serenity back to our homes.
Oussama Hedhli Words of wisdom very much worth of contemplation, dear Chokri. I
have to agree with everything you said here. There is nothing worse than the failure to
try. These words are really so deep! :)
October 5, 2009 at 16:14
Chokri Omri How can i just thank you enough Oussama? It is my hope that the way to
God is ours.
October 5, 2009 at 23:09
Oussama Hedhli It's my hope too! You want to thank me enough? Keep writing the great
stuff and keep tagging me in it! ;)
October 6, 2009 at 0:14
Chokri Omri This is a promise i will hail all the time brother.
October 6, 2009 at 0:24
Waff Tigresse May God enlighten your path dear Chokri. You are amazing
Chokri;)))))))))
October 7, 2009 at 0:41
Yasmina Ben Mbarek Awesome Chokri.U r really talented.At loss for words...Tbarkalla.
October 7, 2009 at 1:20
Chokri Omri Thank you so much dear Wafa and Yasmina. Your comments have made
me feel so happy. May Allah enlighten our path and keep us out of harm's way.
October 7, 2009 at 21:01
Waff Tigresse Amine ya Rabbi.
October 7, 2009 at 23:57
Sameh Abdelbaky mashallah chokri this so touching,but ijust would like to add we must
know allah truely so we can find his way,like the prophet said(pbuh)we in this life like
passengers, and every passenger must know his way very well or he would lost,and our
only and final destination is for allah and to allah,to know this road and way everyone
must know allah not just by words our talk but with heart first and mind after it.keep well
my brothers
October 11, 2009 at 0:57
Chokri Omri I agree with you Sameh. Thank you so much.
October 13, 2009 at 15:46
The way To God
October 5, 2009 at 11:34
There is only one decent way which is flooded with light and wisdom. It is the way to
God.
"I said my lord and found him in my conscience/let doctors wander in the dark".
Downloaded by Chokri Omri (http://www.facebook.com/camri1) on December 22, 2010 at
14:41