الحوار المتمدن
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فلاح أمين الرهيمي : من يدعي حب الشعب عليه أن يترجم حبه وإخلاصه إلى واقع
#الحوار_المتمدن
#فلاح_أمين_الرهيمي حينما يستوزر رئيس الوزراء والوزراء للمسؤولية وحينما يرشح النائب إلى قبة البرلمان تكاد لا تخلو فقرة من خطاباتهم من كلمة (الشعب). وأصبحت كلمة الشعب تقال وتردد بحماس إلا أن الشعب المسكين ضائع في الفوضى بين أصحاب المناصب وكل واحد منهم يعيش في واد يختلف عن الآخر. لم أجد تحليل صائب للحقيقة والواقع أدق من أبيات الشعر للشاعر الكبير موفق محمد أبو خمرة .. أكررها وأصقلها من أجل أن يسمعها حتى من به صمم من أصحاب الفخامة والمعالي بعد أن أعلنت إحصائية عن الغلاء وانخفاض مستوى معيشة الشعب وانخفاض الطاقة الشرائية للمواطنين بسبب تعويم الدينار العراقي وارتفاع سعر الدولار (إن السلة الغذائية للمواطن العراقي ارتفعت بنسبة 14% بسبب تعويم الدينار العراقي وارتفاع سعر الدولار). ومن يدعي حب شعبه والإخلاص له يجب أن لا يجوعه ويذله. وتظل تقارن عمر ما بين ذاك .. وذاوالصافي الك تصطلي بنيران شره .. وأذاه لو كتله فدوه الشعب محروق كلك .. واذا ما طول أنا بالحكم حيل وعساه .. بأنكس (لو كتله فدوه الشعب مجمور كلك .. واذا ما طول ما حصلت منصب عساه .. بأنكس)وها أنت تهرس بين (اثنين) مبتهجين منتشين من فرط احتراقك وانتظاركشلّوا يمينك واستعانوا بالذئاب على يساركهذا جزاؤك أن تموت فدى لصوتك واختياركفإذا أدلهم دم الشهيد وطغى الظلام على نهارك ورأيت من كان المؤمل والمرجى والمقدسلا يريد سوى انكساركفاقرأ على البلد السلام .. وقف الحداد على صغارك. ......
#يدعي
#الشعب
#عليه
#يترجم
#وإخلاصه
#واقع

لقراءة المزيد من الموضوع انقر على الرابط ادناه:
https://ahewar.org/debat/show.art.asp?aid=712247
عقيل الواجدي : الاستاذ جعفر حاجم البدري يترجم قصة لا ذاكرة للوطن
#الحوار_المتمدن
#عقيل_الواجدي A Memoryless HomelandBy : Aqeel Fakhir Al-WajidiTranslated by : Jaafar Hachim Al-Badri The cigarette in his hand is his featured image . It is his bride since the first disaster attacked his soul . Its smoke which occupies the atmosphere visualizes the same scene , but keeps the scenario . The hand and his cigarette are his merit for repeated days . His leg which was dismissed in a garbage sack worths a homeland that denied him when he aimed to recite on it . His shade fragments in a corner of the dimmed room in a moment of remorse and his eyes which stay away from focus are a platform which momently executes a dream that stumbles at the door of poverty . The scalpel was benignant . It didn`t cut down just the rest of his leg , but also the false faces which vanished frequently letting him living in isolation having no partner except a window that became his overlooking eye and the remains of a hope as this circle of smoke whenever it expands , it vanishes . The wailing which the sky stopped hearing it is a feature of houses that sacrifice their spirits generously . In spite of their narrowness , they themselves share wailing alternately as holy clear signs recited during periods of orphanity and the ends of the death (1) . The night hymns the whine that delivered from breasts as you think that the houses listen to them in order to gain silence . The silence of sadness , inside spirits fainted of waiting and self-deception that eyes may wake up finding faces which are so long waited , is the most fluent . Night is the shelter of the broken souls , those whose dreams are futile , those who gaze the sky seeking for mercy . Night celebrates another wailing towards his hearing . A further one is from there and a further …. The voice of wailing doesn t scare his heart anymore so that he is heartless since wailing kidnapped his heart when there was a crowd at his front door . Coincidently , his dreams became old as he saw the dead body of his father carried in a vehicle ! He , then , buried his heart and the remains of his father in a hole which he lately apprehended as a grave . It is night which doesn`t scare him anymore since all days without his father are mere nights . All the humpbacked houses are victims of wars which have no fuels except poor people . Wars are heirs of wars in a homeland that is addicted by death . There is no voice of Fayrooz in such lazy mornings in a city where its birds are looking dreadfully afraid of the stones of the boys who are running towards junks as if they compete the coming dawn . It is another spirit taken upwards to the sky by wailing to send down dreadful silence and sadness . Only those who dream of ceilings construct walls and weave hopes as ladders . Only those grant spirits pricelessly . Night is a dreadful silence which cannot be distributed unless the creaking of the tinplated ......
#الاستاذ
#جعفر
#حاجم
#البدري
#يترجم
#ذاكرة
#للوطن

لقراءة المزيد من الموضوع انقر على الرابط ادناه:
https://ahewar.org/debat/show.art.asp?aid=756420