‘We want our old Kuwait’ – Pleasures of simple life

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There is an Iranian song with a beautiful melody. The composer of the song talks about his longing for his old city, Tehran, which no longer has the same beautiful features it once did. To admire the melody, I asked a friend to translate it into Arabic and it reads like this:

O God, O Generous, look at my present … Every place has been darkened, Please let light shine in the place

I want to be a child playing in the lanes in my school uniform

I still remember the golden slumber, and the laughter ringing through the air on the seashore

The world is overcrowded with buildings … Yet still I remember the city of Lawand

I want back my city of Tehran … I want to see the smile on my face

I want to smell the flavor of bread … I want to hear the bell at the wrestling arena

I want my city Tehran … I want my crazy heart

And from the rabid dogs … I want to take my bones

O God, O Generous, look at the present … Our hearts have been torn apart, cure my pain

Someone stole the trees in Tehran … Do something and ask the military

Tell me what happened to the theater shows … Tell me what happened to the loyal friends

Tell me about kite flying … I do not want (to see) the sky of my city polluted

I want the city of Tehran    I want the platanus tree

I want the key to my house … I want the Big Shemiran area

I want my city of Tehran

I want Shah Abdol Azim Bath… water and seeds

I was inspired by this song and wrote the following verses about my country Kuwait:

O Massoud Arraf, the craftsman, please … I want our old Kuwait

I want to go back to the streets of Al-Mirqab which have disappeared

And the alleys of Al-Sharq that have been destroyed

And courtyards of Jibla that have been removed

I want Massoud to hear my words to catch those who stole my dreams

To return to me the old wall of Kuwait, which one day was a security fence and reassured me

I want Massoud to reduce our houses of worship and to increase faith in our hearts

I want the false manifestations between us disappear and former unity and intimacy return to us

I want Abdullah Al-Ahmad to recover what was stolen from our money

And to imprison the market thieves who stole our dreams

I want to go back to drink the underground water, and eat with the Al-Azmi and Al-Mutair people

I want to grill the small shark on the seashore, and I eat the Aqili cake with the friends

Ah, how much I miss the days of my time, and sleep on the roofs wearing Azar

Ah how much I long for the ‘machbous’ of my mother, the ‘ma’abouj’ of my aunt and the pickles of my neighbors.

I want to go back to our old days, to our evenings and our loving

We want Marzouq Saeed and our plays, Abdullah Fadala and our songs

We want our bread made by our baker, the dust of our roads, the past names of our streets, and the smell of the plaster of our houses.

We want our former Kuwait, before everything in us and between us is destroyed.

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By Ahmad Al-Sarraf

This news has been read 10850 times!