poem about the feminine (found online)

Standard

 

قالـــــــــــوا عنها يوماً

هي أصـــــل كل الشــرور

وعند كل جريمــــــــــــــة

إبحث فيهـــا عنهـــــــــــــا

وصفــــــــــها شاعر بأنهـــــــا

مدرســــــــــة لخير الأمــــــــم

كأس من أناملــــــــــها

تســــــــــقط عروش

ومــا من رزيلــــــــــة

إلا وتربعــــــت على عرشهــــــــا

رب الشــــــرور ضعيف في كيده

ولرب الخلائق..فكيدها

كان عظــــــــيما

أي كيد تنهار بجرحه الدموع لكلمة

وبكلمـــة تملك بها الحياة؟؟؟

أوليست هي أمي..وهي إبنتي

وكم من رحم أنجب رسل وأنبياء؟؟؟

لعمــري الأنـــــــــــا هي أصــل الشرور

وما الأنت إلا قربان

على مذبح الخطايا

Translation:

One day they said
She was the source of sin

She’s a suspect
In every crime

The poet called her
A school for every nation

One glass off her fingers
Destroys entire thrones

Each and every vice
Sits there on her throne

The lord of terror is weak, it seems
So God framed her guilty as charged

A tear from her kills
A word from her, brings back to life…

Isn’t she my mother? My daughter?
Didn’t her womb deliver your disciples and prophets?

I verily swear, yes, she’s the source of sin
And you’re just the sacrifice, on the alter of sin

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About Heretic

female knitter bookworm 31 years old bisexual spiritual atheist 420 friendly traveler occasional poet anything else you want to know, take the time to get to know me and ask. concern trolls need not apply.

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