Syrian Poetry Quotes

We've searched our database for all the quotes and captions related to Syrian Poetry. Here they are! All 7 of them:

Death wins nothing here, gnawing wings that amputate–– then spread, lift up, fly.
Aberjhani (Journey through the Power of the Rainbow: Quotations from a Life Made Out of Poetry)
In an age of bombs guzzling blood, skylarks merge peace with thought and action.
Aberjhani (The River of Winged Dreams)
Sea Prayer was inspired by the story of Alan Kurdi, the three-year-old Syrian refugee who drowned in the Mediterranean Sea trying to reach the Safety in Europe in 2015. In the year after Alan's death, 4,176 others died or went missing attempting that same journey.
Khaled Hosseini (Sea Prayer)
هذي دمشق.. وهذي الكأس والراح إني أحب... وبعـض الحـب ذباح أنا الدمشقي.. لو شرحتم جسدي لسـال منه عناقيـدٌ.. وتفـاح و لو فتحـتم شراييني بمديتكـم سمعتم في دمي أصوات من راحوا زراعة القلب.. تشفي بعض من عشقو وما لقلـبي –إذا أحببـت جـراح This is Damascus... and this is a glass of spirit (comfort) I am in love... but I am aware of the fact that certain kinds of love can slaughter you in wrath I am a Damascene... if you dissect me into halves You will have but grapes... and apples falling in your path Open my veins with scalpels Hear ancestral chants If heart transplants... can cure some of the passionate Why does mine stay torn in half then?
نزار قباني
ref·u·gee noun: a person who flees for refuge or safety We are, each of us, refugees when we flee from burning buildings into the arms of loving families. When we flee from floods and earthquakes to sleep on blue mats in community centres. We are, each of us, refugees when we flee from abusive relationships, and shooters in cinemas and shopping centres. Sometimes it takes only a day for our countries to persecute us because of our creed, race, or sexual orientation. Sometimes it takes only a minute for the missiles to rain down and leave our towns in ruin and destitution. We are, each of us, refugees longing for that amniotic tranquillity dreaming of freedom and safety when fences and barbed wires spring into walled gardens. Lebanese, Sudanese, Libyan and Syrian, Yemeni, Somali, Palestinian, and Ethiopian, like our brothers and sisters, we are, each of us, refugees. The bombs fell in their cafés and squares where once poetry, dancing, and laughter prevailed. Only their olive trees remember music and merriment now as their cities wail for departed children without a funeral. We are, each of us, refugees. Don’t let stamped paper tell you differently. We’ve been fleeing for centuries because to stay means getting bullets in our heads because to stay means being hanged by our necks because to stay means being jailed, raped and left for dead. But we can, each of us, serve as one another’s refuge so we don't board dinghies when we can’t swim so we don’t climb walls with snipers aimed at our chest so we don’t choose to remain and die instead. When home turns into hell, you, too, will run with tears in your eyes screaming rescue me! and then you’ll know for certain: you've always been a refugee.
Kamand Kojouri
XXXIV My Dreams* I can’t sleep but they can. Dreams are alive with the weeping dead. No place on earth was found for those opposing Devils. Why don’t they trouble the sleep of someone else? There are doors in heaven open – why don’t they enter? They will haunt me always. In every wandering wretch still left here – I’ll hear these same cries. The pride won – are not the cubs killed? Stop my ears! Our sarcophagus’ awaits! Our legacy assured! Our boats of the finest gold! Ship worthy for the lakes below. The heavier the better. Dive deeply! We’ll sleep sound. The fires stop all ears. It is silent in hell. To hear another’s screams would be a mercy. That might bring regret. *In memory of Syrian refugees
Michael Bee (Leaves on the Wind (Poetry By Michael T. Bee Book 1))
The Abduction refers to an autobiographical event in Al-Masri’s life. When, as a young Arab woman living in France, she decides to separate from her husband with whom she has a child, the father kidnaps the baby and returns to Syria. The Abduction is the story of a woman who is denied the basic right to raise her child. Al-Masri won’t see her son for thirteen years. These are haunting poems of love, despair, and hope in a delicate, profound and powerful book on intimacy, a mother’s rights, war, exile, and freedom.
Helene Cardona (The Abduction)