ترجمة

Wednesday, September 30, 2009

بيع الجمل يا علي sell the camel, Ali : Samira Twfiq- The Gypsy from Jordan

قلبي افطر نصين
My heart was broken into two halves
هون وهون
here and here
وشلون يا ويلي اداري
and oh dear how can i  hide it?
 شلون؟
how?

لون الفرح يا ناس
The color of happiness , Oh people,
مادري بيه
I dont know it,
ولونك يا غربة
and your colors, daispora,
الف لون ولون
are one and a thousand colors

بيع الجمل يا علي
sell the camel, Ali
واشتري مهر الي
and buy my dowry
كرمي لوح واستوى
my vine is swaying and has ripened
والعنب طاب وحلي
and the grapes are good and sweet
بيع
sell
بيع
sell
بيع
sell
بيع
sell
بيع  الجمل يا علي
sell the camel, Ali

يا علي بيع الجمال
Ali, sell the camels
قبل مايضيع الجمال
before the beauty is lost
واهدي بويا ذهب ومال
and gift my father gold and money
واشتريني يا علي
and buy me , Ali

ياعلي بويا طميع
Oh, Ali, My dad is gready,
شو عندك يا حبيبي بيع
whatever you have my beloved, sell it,
لو تتأخر انا رح ضيع
if you are late I will be lost
لا تضيعني يا علي
dont lose me , Oh Ali ..


انا وانت بيكفينا
me and you will be satisfied
بيت زغير يدفينا
with a small home that warms us
ويطعمينا ويسقينا
and God of the heavens
رب السما يا علي
will feed us and provide for us


Tuesday, September 29, 2009

عبدالله الرويشد ... قلبي معك - من الكويت - My Heart is with you - Abdalla Rweished from Kuwait

 قلبي معك يا مشغل البال ملتاع
My heart is with you
burning
you
the one who
occupies  my mind
 يلّي تدوّر ما يزيد التياعي
you
the one who
seeks all that would
increase my heartache
 المشكلة انك فاهمٍ كل الاوضاع
 The problem is that
you understand the situation well
وما للهجر في الحب يا زين داعي
 and there is no reason
for leaving who you love
خليت قلبي يرتجف بين الاضلاع
 you made my heart shiver
inside my ribs
يصبح علي الصبح ما نمت واعي
the morning comes
and I havent slept a wink
فيك الرجا يا  مشقي الروح  ما ضاع
 hope hasnt been lost in you,
torturer of my soul
وعيّت عيوني قبل غيرك تراعي
 and my eyes refuse to
see other than you
 ياللي عيونك حلوةٍ سودٍَ ووساع
 you
the one who has
beautiful, wide black eyes
معذور لو جيت الهوا باندفاعِ
 I am not to blame
for going into your love
without hesitation
ياما نهيت القلب لا شك ما طاع
 So often I forbade my heart
it didnt obey
راضي بغرام اللي سعى في ضياعي
 satisfied with loving
the one who seeks my doom





Monday, September 28, 2009

History of the word احم احم F*ck !

Jordanian Folklore - Oh my stubborn dad :) يا عنيد يا يابا

 They went down to the garden نزلن على البستان
 Oh my stubborn dad  يا عنيد يا يابا
and they died their hair with henna وحنن شعرهن
 
All girls are stars كل البنات نجوم
 Oh my stubborn dad  يا عنيد يا يابا
  and mom , she is their moon!  يمه وهية قمرهن

 (she is ) My eye and the water of my eye  عيني ومي عيني
 Oh my stubborn dad  يا عنيد يا يابا
She 's worth my family and all my relatives تسوى هلي وكل القرابا
 Oh my stubborn dad  يا عنيد يا يابا


I will sit alone in the end of the night لاقعد بتالي الليل
 Oh my stubborn dad  يا عنيد يا يابا
And I swear I'll remember my lover والله واذكر وليفي

 And using the excuse that I had a bad dream وبحجة الحلمان
 Oh my stubborn dad  يا عنيد يا يابا
Oh mom , I can cry as much as I want to يمه لابكي عكيفي


 (she is ) My eye and the water of my eye  عيني ومي عيني
 Oh my stubborn dad  يا عنيد يا يابا
She 's worth my family and all my relatives تسوى هلي وكل القرابا
 Oh my stubborn dad  يا عنيد يا يابا

An old man from the land of Miknas شويخ من ارض مكناس - خالد الشيخ


What do I owe my friend  ايش عليا يا صاحب
   to all creatures? من جميع الخلايق

   Do good and you'll be saved... افعل الخير تنجو
  And follow people of the truth... واتبع اهل الحقايق

 Dont say my son a word... لاتقل يا بني كلمة
Unless you are being honest... الا ان كنت صادق
 Take my words and in a paper... خذ كلامي في قرطاس
 write them as a treasure from me... واكتبه حرز عني
 what do I owe people... ويش عليا انا من الناس
and what do people owe me... ويش على الناس مني

a little old man from the land of Miknas شويخ من ارض مكناس
in the middle of the markets sings وسط الاسواق يغني
I dont owe people anything  ايش عليا انا من الناس
 and they owe me nothing at all    وايش على الناس مني




Sunday, September 27, 2009

You're so cold ...





"So Cold"

Crowded streets are cleared away
One by One
Hollow heroes separate
As they run

You're so cold
Keep your hand in mine
Wise men wonder while
Strong men die

[Chorus]

Show me how it ends it's alright
Show me how defenseless you really are
satisfied and empty inside
Well, that's alright, let's give this another try

If you find your family, don't you cry
In this land of make-believe, dead and dry

You're so cold, but you feel alive
Lay your hand on me one last time

[Chorus x2]

It's alright [x9]

Saturday, September 26, 2009

For you to be you and for me to be me

Allow me to feel my pain
Allow me to connect with it
don't dismiss me
give me room to breathe
I need to let it all out
it is poisoning my system
the years of oppression and neglect are getting to me
I need a safe place
give me your unconditional love so that I can give you mine
feel my pain so that I can feel yours
my pain is a big part of who i am
I dont want to feel embarrassed of my pain
I am allowed to feel it !

You say : move on, move on...
how can I?
I will I know - one day maybe, when I am safe
when i am heard

Marginalized - do you know how painful that is ?
feer hurts!
Exposed...
I want to be exposed to you
with all my pain and brilliance
my genuis and depression

I dont want to be embarrassed because of my oppression
"it is not an issue" , you say. My life is way better that many others -
But you know, it is MINE, my pain is mine- I am the one who feels it.
My pain needs love
be gentle with my pain
my darkness needs the light of understanding
solidarity

Dont dismiss me
can you accept me the way i am? with my beauty and baggage?
do you see my beauty at all?
I tell the ocean about my pain - the trees hear me

God hears me
I crave the unity of the soul , a community of the heart
communion with God through you and him and her
help me drop my defenses
help me get rid of my identities - I want to be whole when with you
how can i if i am not whole within myself?

help me break free from the grinding wheel - acknowledge my courage - my struggle
embrace my schizophrenia
my madness is part of me
my madness IS me

take me as a whole
Allow me to be me so that I can cease to be me
What I feel is real even if it doesnt make sense to you
Do you know how it feels to be jailed? stripped of your freedom?
do you know how it feels to be a woman? an arab? a palestinian? an artist?
do you want to know? do you care to know?
Does anyone care to know?

Why would they, depressing lamentation ...
minority colonialism feminism ...
identity stuff boring depressing activist blabla..
why would you care ? you were born up there
on the top of the hill

but if you want to be you
i need to be me
there is no you without a me
and only when you stop being you
is when I become me
and only then
is when I stop being me
only then
you can be you
and i can be me
do you see ?
what I'm trying to say ?
Yes or Nay?
Hey?
Hello
Knock knock..
anyone there
or just an empty headskin

let's both seize to be
you and me
and only be
a one:
'We'

What the Bleep do we know ?!


Wednesday, September 23, 2009

About the Arabic Language


from http://www.translationtoarabic.com


The term classical Arabic refers to the standard form of the language used in all writing and heard on television and radio as well as in mosques. The diverse colloquial dialects of Arabic are interrelated but vary considerably among speakers from different parts of the Middle East. These dialects differ from standard Arabic and from one another in pronunciation, vocabulary, and grammar and are usually labeled according to major geographic areas, such as North African, Egyptian, and Gulf. Within these broad classifications, the daily speech of urban, rural, and nomadic speakers is distinctively different. Illiterate speakers from widely separated parts of the Arab world may not understand one another, although each is speaking a version of Arabic. The sound system of Arabic has 28 consonants, including all the Semitic guttural sounds produced far back in the mouth and throat. Each of the three vowels in standard Arabic occurs in a long and short form, creating the long and short syllables so important to the meter of Arabic poetry. Although the dialects retain the long vowels, they have lost many of the short-vowel contrasts.
All Arabic word formation is based on an abstraction, namely, the root, usually consisting of three consonants. These root sounds join with various vowel patterns to form simple nouns and verbs to which affixes can be attached for more complicated derivations. For example, the borrowed term "bank" is considered to have the consonantal root b-n-k; film is formed from f-l-m. Arabic has a very regular system of conjugating verbs and altering their stems to indicate variations of the basic meaning. This system is so regular that dictionaries of Arabic can refer to verbs by a number system (I-X). From the root k-s-r, the Form I verb is "kasar"="he broke"; Form II verb is "kassar"="he smashed to bits"; and Form VII is "inkasar"="it was broken up." Nouns and adjectives are less regular in formation, and have many different plural patterns. The so-called broken plurals are formed by altering the internal syllable shape of the singular noun. For example, for the borrowed words bank and film, the plurals are, respectively, "bunuk" for banks, and "aflam" for films.
Normal sentence word order in standard Arabic is verb-subject-object. In poetry and in some prose styles, this word order can be altered; when that happens, subject and object can be distinguished by their case endings, that is, by suffixes which indicate the grammatical function of nouns. These suffixes are only spelled out fully in school textbooks and in the Quran to ensure an absolutely correct reading. In all other Arabic texts, these case endings (usually short vowels) are omitted, as are all internal short-vowel markings.
The Arabic script does not include letters for these vowels; instead, they are small marks set above and below the consonantal script. The Arabic script, which is derived from that of Aramaic, is written from right to left. It is based on shapes that vary according to their connection to preceding or following letters. Using a combination of dots above and below 8 of these shapes, the full complement of 28 consonants and the 3 long vowels can be fully spelled out. The Arabic alphabet has been adopted by non-Semitic languages such as Modern Persian (or Farsi), Urdu, Malay, and some West African languages such as Hausa. The use of verses from the Quran in Arabic script for decoration has led to the development over 1400 years of many different calligraphic styles. Calligraphy is a high art form in the Arab world.
The long history of Arabic includes periods of high development in literature. The Arabic of medieval writing is termed Classical Arabic. Modern Standard Arabic is a descendant of Classical Arabic; frequently, however, the stylistic influence of French and English is evident. In the 20th century, in particular, much scientific, medical, and technical vocabulary has been borrowed from French and English.
Arabic belongs to the Semitic branch of AFROASIATIC LANGUAGES and is the national language of about 250 million inhabitants of North Africa, the Arabian Peninsula, Syria, Lebanon, Jordan, and Iraq. Outside these areas, it is spoken by Arabs living in Israel, and in some parts of sub-Saharan Africa, North and South America, and Soviet Central Asia. Since it is the language of the QURAN some limited knowledge of it exists throughout the Muslim world.
All Arabs have as their mother tongue some local variety of Arabic. These vernaculars differ markedly so that, for example, Moroccan Arabic is virtually unintelligible in Iraq. The local vernacular is used in everyday commerce, but rarely written. Contrasting to the local vernaculars is standard, or formal, Arabic, which is used for writing and formal speech. Because it must be learned at school, large sectors of the Arab public do not command it sufficiently to use it themselves, although radio and other media are gradually spreading its comprehension. Standard Arabic has remained remarkably stable. In grammar and basic vocabulary the Arabic literature produced from the 8th century to the present is strikingly homogenous; the works of medieval writers differ from the standard Arabic hardly more than Shakespeare's language differs from modern English.
Standard literary Arabic is capable of expressing the finest shades of meaning. The vernaculars in their present form cannot perform the same task. If they were adapted, such a development would fatally split the unity of the Arab world. Today tensions exist between the standard language and the vernaculars, particularly in imaginative literature. In drama the demand for realism favors the vernacular, and many poets are tending toward their mother tongue. In the novel and short story, the trend is toward having the characters speak in the vernacular while the author uses formal language. Some of the most celebrated living novelists and poets, however, write exclusively in the standard language.
The term Middle East refers collectively to Cyprus, Egypt, Iran, Iraq, Israel, Jordan, Kuwait, Lebanon, Saudi Arabia, Syria, Turkey, Yemen, and the states and emirates along the southern and eastern fringes of the Arabian peninsula, namely, Bahrain, Oman, Qatar, and the United Arab Emirates (Cyprus, Iran, Israel, and Turkey are not Arab countries and have different cultures and languages). Other Arab countries which are not geographically part of the Middle East, but are, nevertheless, integral parts of the Arab world are: Sudan and Djibouti in East Africa; and Libya, Tunisia, Algeria, Morocco, Mauritania, and to some extent Chad. Presently more than 200 million Arabs are living mainly in 21 countries. The Arabic language is the main symbol of cultural unity among these people.

Tuesday, September 22, 2009

So cold the night ...

Refrain 1:

I watch your window
I shake so scared
Spying from my room
With nervous unrest
Night after night your fingers
caressing
The skin that is so fair you slowly
undress

Chorus:
Soon we will be together
Until then so cold the night
Soon we will be together
Until then so cold the night

I know that you know that I'm here
each night
Watching and praying the time is now
right
For me to undress and caress you
Until then I'll just sit here and dream.

(chorus)
Cold the night, Cold the night

Soon my love
Soon my secret lover
Soon my love
Soon my secret lover
Soon my love
Soon my secret lover
Soon my lover

(refrain 1)

(chorus x2)
Cold the night (x6)
Ooh it's so cold without you
Cold the night (x6)



Check out some of my favourite comics :) !

12 Rules for a Hero's Destiny

by Arupa Tesolin, Intuita

1. Any concept imperfectly created will be limited by the magnitude of its imperfection.

2. A vision born in the heart and beheld with clarity in the mind must, in obedience to the law of creation, be created in the world of form.

3. If you can create without doubt, you are no doubt a creator.

4. If you see the glass is half-empty, you are seeing the circumstance not the dream. To transcend the circumstance you must see what's not there.

5. True commitment begins when we can reach the point of not knowing how we can possibly go on and decide to do it anyway.

6. To set a goal is to limit infinity.

7. When you are tested ask why. What purpose does it serve? What am I learning here? Sometimes an apparent setback or disappointment serves the greater purpose of galvanizing desire or birthing a greater success.

8. Act as though you already are who you want to be, are already doing what you want to do, and already have what you want to have.

9. Money isn't everything. It's a resource, one of many. All resources to support you come from but one source - your infinity.

10. Decide what you need and ask for it. Imagine your every request being fulfilled.

11. Give your best to every client, whether small or large. You never know to whom you are offering your gifts. If you did, you'd be humbled.

12. Perfection is REAL. Be perfect in the quality of your beingness. Offer yourself as it's devoted servant. Become the hero of your life.

______________________________________________________________

Arupa Tesolin is a Speaker, Seminar Leader and widely published international writer on Management, Training and Innovation topics. Her company Intuita provides live learning events, products and e-learning courses for management, workforce and career development. Visit http://www.intuita.com for details.

Thursday, September 17, 2009

What's on my twitter mind

Wednesday, September 16, 2009

My Flower to Bush, the Occupier The Story of My Shoe By MUTADHAR al-ZAIDI

My Flower to Bush, the Occupier
The Story of My Shoe

By MUTADHAR al-ZAIDI

    Mutadhar al-Zaidi, the Iraqi who threw his shoe at George Bush gave this speech on his recent release.

In the name of God, the most gracious and most merciful.

Here I am, free. But my country is still a prisoner of war.

Firstly, I give my thanks and my regards to everyone who stood beside me, whether inside my country, in the Islamic world, in the free world. There has been a lot of talk about the action and about the person who took it, and about the hero and the heroic act, and the symbol and the symbolic act.

But, simply, I answer: What compelled me to confront is the injustice that befell my people, and how the occupation wanted to humiliate my homeland by putting it under its boot.

And how it wanted to crush the skulls of (the homeland's) sons under its boots, whether sheikhs, women, children or men. And during the past few years, more than a million martyrs fell by the bullets of the occupation and the country is now filled with more than 5 million orphans, a million widows and hundreds of thousands of maimed. And many millions of homeless because of displacement inside and outside the country.

We used to be a nation in which the Arab would share with the Turkman and the Kurd and the Assyrian and the Sabean and the Yazid his daily bread. And the Shiite would pray with the Sunni in one line. And the Muslim would celebrate with the Christian the birthday of Christ, may peace be upon him. And despite the fact that we shared hunger under sanctions for more than 10 years, for more than a decade.

Our patience and our solidarity did not make us forget the oppression. Until we were invaded by the illusion of liberation that some had. (The occupation) divided one brother from another, one neighbor from another, and the son from his uncle. It turned our homes into never-ending funeral tents. And our graveyards spread into parks and roadsides. It is a plague. It is the occupation that is killing us, that is violating the houses of worship and the sanctity of our homes and that is throwing thousands daily into makeshift prisons.

I am not a hero, and I admit that. But I have a point of view and I have a stance. It humiliated me to see my country humiliated. And to see my Baghdad burned. And my people being killed. Thousands of tragic pictures remained in my head, and this weighs on me every day and pushes me toward the righteous path, the path of confrontation, the path of rejecting injustice, deceit and duplicity. It deprived me of a good night's sleep.

Dozens, no, hundreds, of images of massacres that would turn the hair of a newborn white used to bring tears to my eyes and wound me. The scandal of Abu Ghraib. The massacre of Fallujah, Najaf, Haditha, Sadr City, Basra, Diyala, Mosul, Tal Afar, and every inch of our wounded land. In the past years, I traveled through my burning land and saw with my own eyes the pain of the victims, and hear with my own ears the screams of the bereaved and the orphans. And a feeling of shame haunted me like an ugly name because I was powerless.

And as soon as I finished my professional duties in reporting the daily tragedies of the Iraqis, and while I washed away the remains of the debris of the ruined Iraqi houses, or the traces of the blood of victims that stained my clothes, I would clench my teeth and make a pledge to our victims, a pledge of vengeance.

The opportunity came, and I took it.

I took it out of loyalty to every drop of innocent blood that has been shed through the occupation or because of it, every scream of a bereaved mother, every moan of an orphan, the sorrow of a rape victim, the teardrop of an orphan.

I say to those who reproach me: Do you know how many broken homes that shoe that I threw had entered because of the occupation? How many times it had trodden over the blood of innocent victims? And how many times it had entered homes in which free Iraqi women and their sanctity had been violated? Maybe that shoe was the appropriate response when all values were violated.

When I threw the shoe in the face of the criminal, Bush, I wanted to express my rejection of his lies, his occupation of my country, my rejection of his killing my people. My rejection of his plundering the wealth of my country, and destroying its infrastructure. And casting out its sons into a diaspora.

After six years of humiliation, of indignity, of killing and violations of sanctity, and desecration of houses of worship, the killer comes, boasting, bragging about victory and democracy. He came to say goodbye to his victims and wanted flowers in response.

Put simply, that was my flower to the occupier, and to all who are in league with him, whether by spreading lies or taking action, before the occupation or after.

I wanted to defend the honor of my profession and suppressed patriotism on the day the country was violated and its high honor lost. Some say: Why didn't he ask Bush an embarrassing question at the press conference, to shame him? And now I will answer you, journalists. How can I ask Bush when we were ordered to ask no questions before the press conference began, but only to cover the event. It was prohibited for any person to question Bush.

And in regard to professionalism: The professionalism mourned by some under the auspices of the occupation should not have a voice louder than the voice of patriotism. And if patriotism were to speak out, then professionalism should be allied with it.

I take this opportunity: If I have wronged journalism without intention, because of the professional embarrassment I caused the establishment, I wish to apologize to you for any embarrassment I may have caused those establishments. All that I meant to do was express with a living conscience the feelings of a citizen who sees his homeland desecrated every day.

History mentions many stories where professionalism was also compromised at the hands of American policymakers, whether in the assassination attempt against Fidel Castro by booby-trapping a TV camera that CIA agents posing as journalists from Cuban TV were carrying, or what they did in the Iraqi war by deceiving the general public about what was happening. And there are many other examples that I won't get into here.

But what I would like to call your attention to is that these suspicious agencies -- the American intelligence and its other agencies and those that follow them -- will not spare any effort to track me down (because I am) a rebel opposed to their occupation. They will try to kill me or neutralize me, and I call the attention of those who are close to me to the traps that these agencies will set up to capture or kill me in various ways, physically, socially or professionally.

And at the time that the Iraqi prime minister came out on satellite channels to say that he didn't sleep until he had checked in on my safety, and that I had found a bed and a blanket, even as he spoke I was being tortured with the most horrific methods: electric shocks, getting hit with cables, getting hit with metal rods, and all this in the backyard of the place where the press conference was held. And the conference was still going on and I could hear the voices of the people in it. And maybe they, too, could hear my screams and moans.

In the morning, I was left in the cold of winter, tied up after they soaked me in water at dawn. And I apologize for Mr. Maliki for keeping the truth from the people. I will speak later, giving names of the people who were involved in torturing me, and some of them were high-ranking officials in the government and in the army.

I didn't do this so my name would enter history or for material gains. All I wanted was to defend my country, and that is a legitimate cause confirmed by international laws and divine rights. I wanted to defend a country, an ancient civilization that has been desecrated, and I am sure that history -- especially in America -- will state how the American occupation was able to subjugate Iraq and Iraqis, until its submission.

They will boast about the deceit and the means they used in order to gain their objective. It is not strange, not much different from what happened to the Native Americans at the hands of colonialists. Here I say to them (the occupiers) and to all who follow their steps, and all those who support them and spoke up for their cause: Never.

Because we are a people who would rather die than face humiliation.

And, lastly, I say that I am independent. I am not a member of any politicalparty, something that was said during torture -- one time that I'm far-right, another that I'm a leftist. I am independent of any political party, and my future efforts will be in civil service to my people and to any who need it, without waging any political wars, as some said that I would.
My efforts will be toward providing care for widows and orphans, and all those whose lives were damaged by the occupation. I pray for mercy upon the souls of the martyrs who fell in wounded Iraq, and for shame upon those who occupied Iraq and everyone who assisted them in their abominable acts. And I pray for peace upon those who are in their graves, and those who are oppressed with the chains of imprisonment. And peace be upon you who are patient and looking to God for release.

And to my beloved country I say: If the night of injustice is prolonged, it will not stop the rising of a sun and it will be the sun of freedom.

One last word. I say to the government: It is a trust that I carry from my fellow detainees. They said, 'Muntadhar, if you get out, tell of our plight to the omnipotent powers' -- I know that only God is omnipotent and I pray to Him -- 'remind them that there are dozens, hundreds, of victims rotting in prisons because of an informant's word.'

They have been there for years, they have not been charged or tried.

They've only been snatched up from the streets and put into these prisons. And now, in front of you, and in the presence of God, I hope they can hear me or see me. I have now made good on my promise of reminding the government and the officials and the politicians to look into what's happening inside the prisons. The injustice that's caused by the delay in the judicial system.

Thank you. And may God's peace be upon you
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