post 268/365
Why would I care about my existence instead of my becoming?
All things live to end as new tunes.
The difference between freedom and submission is a choice.
(tlat daka’ik, 3 minutes)
post 268/365
Why would I care about my existence instead of my becoming?
All things live to end as new tunes.
The difference between freedom and submission is a choice.
(tlat daka’ik, 3 minutes)
post 190/365
“I feel that music on the screen can seek out and intensify the inner thoughts of the characters. It can invest a scene with terror, grandeur, gaiety, or misery. It can propel narrative swiftly forward, or slow it down. It often lifts mere dialogue into the realm of poetry. Finally, it is the communicating link between the screen and the audience, reaching out and enveloping all into one single experience.”
Film composer Bernard Herrmann.
post 187/365
The Dabke is an Arabic folk dance that started in the mountainous regions above the Mediterranean coastline and the Tigriss River. It is of possible Canaanite or Phoenician origin. According to some sources the Phoenicians were the first teachers of the dance in the world, and the Dabke is a representative descendant of the Phoenician dances.
post 180/365
Beirut windows slowly awaken
Houses piled up one on top of the other,
Whatever she does complements her
Together we live,
Each one on his own window
And life is ahead of us with its flowers and thorns
Beirut windows slowly awaken
Read in her coffee cups and tell me what do you foresee for her
She has seen a lot
Sweet days and sour ones
She doesn’t get enough of legends and life is still at its beginning
Beirut windows awaken slowly
Our stories hanging on clothesline, forgotten,
Colorful canvases on grey rooftops
Beirut windows slowly awaken
She stands in the early morning light
And puts kohol in her eyes
Someone will definitely drop by to visit her
And the sea with its ebbs and tides
Never tires and never stops
And no matter how old she gets
Only he is affectionate towards her
(lyrics translated from her song Shababik Beirut _ Beirut’s Windows)
post 157/365
I long for my mother’s bread
And my mother’s coffee
And my mother’s touch…
My childhood grows within me
Day after day
I love my life because
If I died,
I would be embarrassed by my mother’s tears
Take me, if I return one day
As a scarf for your lashes
And cover my bones with grass
Baptized by the purity of your heel
Tie me up
With a lock of hair
With a thread that points to the tail of your dress
Perhaps I will become a god
A god I would become
If I felt the bottom of your heart
Put me, if I return
As fuel to light your fire
And a wash-line on your house’s roof
Because I’ve lost my strength to stand
Without the prayer of your day
I’ve grown old… return the stars of childhood
So I can share with the sparrow chicks
The way back
To the nest of your waiting
(translation of the song Oummi)
post 75/365
Beloved for her powerful voice, Sabah, actress and entertainer, was never far from the limelight during her six-decade career.