“And I was cursed in all the languages …”

I got addicted to my sorrows,
Until I have gotten scared of not being sorrowed.

And I was stabbed thousands of times,
Until it felt painful not to be stabbed.

And I was cursed in all the languages,
Until I started being nervous of not being cursed.

And all the countries seemed the same,
That I don’t see myself there, And I don’t see myself here.

— Syrian poet Nizar Qabbani

 

FlamingPoi

Photo credit: Sam Fentress [CC BY-SA 2.0 (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0)%5D

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