الأحد، يناير 30، 2005

لو تروح



لو تروح وتقول مسافر مين يسأل علينا؟
...مين يسأل علينا

دول هما طوقين غوايش
والحرير م الدمع بايش
عمرنا مات وإلا عايش؟
مين يسأل علينا...مين يسأل علينا

المسا زي الصباح
واللي جاي فين واللي راح
خدنا إيه غير الجراح
مين يسأل علينا...مين يسأل علينا

خدت حسّك من بيوتنا
مين يقول إنك تفوتنا
قلنا لما انبح صوتنا
مين يسأل علينا...مين يسأل علينا

لو تروح وتقول مسافر مين يسأل علينا؟
...مين يسأل علينا



لو تروح" من ألبوم "زعلان شوية" لوجيه عزيز – غناء وجيه عزيز وجيهان مغاوري - ألحان وجيه عزيز وكلمات على سلامة"

ذَائِعُ ُ من سِرِّهِ ما استَوْدَعَك



: من الشعر المنسوب إلى ولادة بنت المستكفي

وَدّعَ الصّبْرَ مُحِبُُُ ُ وَدّعَكْ
ذَائِعُ ُ من سِرِّهِ ما استَوْدَعَكْ

يَقرَعُ السِنَّ عَلَي أنْ لم يَكُنْ
زادَ في تلكَ الخُطى إذ شيَّعَكْ

يا أخا البَدْرِ سَناءً و سَنا
حَفِظَ اللهُ زماناً أطْلَعَكْ

إن يَطُلْ بَعْدَكَ لَيْلي
فَلَكَمْ بِتُّ أشْكو قِصَرَ الليلِ مَعَكْ

الخميس، يناير 27، 2005

كل سنة وإنتي طيبة يا زوزو







إمبارح كان عيد ميلاد الرائعة سعاد حسني علشان كده حبيت أشارككم في شوية من رباعياتي المفضلة لصلاح جاهين

إنشد يا قلبي غنوتك للجمال
وارقص في صدري من اليمين للشمال
ماهوش بعيد تفضل لبكره سعيد
ده كل يوم فيه ألف ألف احتمال
!!عجبي

فتحت شباكي لشمس الصباح
ما دخلش منه غير عويل الرياح
وفتحت قلبي عشان أبوح بالألم
ما خرجش منه غير محبة وسماح
!!عجبي

أنا الذي عمري اشتياق في اشتياق
وقطر داخل في محطة فراق
قصدت نبع السم وشربت سم
من كتر شوقي وعشمي في الترياق
!!عجبي
حبيت...لكن حب من غير حنان
وصاحبت لكن صُحبه مالهاش أمان
رحت لحكيم واكتر لقيت بلوتي
إن اللي جوّه القلب مش ع اللسان
!!عجبي

إيش تطلبي يا نفس فوق كل ده
حظك بيضحك وانتي متنكدة
ردت قالت لي النفس: قول للبَشَر
ما يبصوليش بعيون حزينة كده
!!عجبي

بحر الحياه مليان بغرقى الحياه
صَرَخت خش الموج في حلقي ملاه
قارب نجاه!...صَرَخت قالوا مفيش
غير بس هو الحب قارب نجاه
!!عجبي

السبت، يناير 08، 2005

Perhaps...

Perhaps to love is to learn
to walk through this world.
To learn to be silent
like the oak and the linden of the fable.
To learn to see.
Your glance scattered seeds.
It planted a tree.
I talk
because you shake its leaves.


-- Octavio Paz

الأربعاء، يناير 05، 2005

There's no light without shadow


He [Juan Ribero] has always ferociously opposed the artificial pose, scenes arranged in the studio, the cluttered prints made with superimposed negatives so much in mode a few years ago. He believes in photography as a personal testimony, a way of seeing the world, and that way must be honest, using technology as a medium for capturing reality, not distorting it. When I went through a phase in which I photographed girls in huge glass receptacles, he asked why I did it with such scorn that I did not continue down that road, but when I described to him the portrait I took of a family of itinerant circus artists, naked and vulnerable, he was immediately interested. I had taken several photos of that family posed before a rickety covered wagon that served as transport and living quarters, when a little girl about four or five had come out, totally naked. That gave me the idea of asking all of them to take off their clothes. They did it with no ill will and posed with the same intent concentration as when dressed. It’s one of my best photographs, one of the few that has won prizes. It was soon evident that I am more attracted to people than to objects or landscapes. When I shoot a portrait there’s a relationship with the model that even if very brief is nonetheless a connection. The plate reveals not only the image but the feelings that flow between subject and photographer. Don Juan Ribero liked my portraits, very different from his. “You feel an empathy for your models, Aurora, you don’t try to dominate them, you try to understand them; that’s why you succeed in exposing their souls,” he said. He encouraged me to leave the safe walls of the studio, take my camera outside, look with my eyes wide open, overcome my shyness, lose my fear, approach people. I realized that usually I was welcomed, and that the subjects for my lens posed with all the seriousness, even though I was a young girl: the camera inspired respect and confidence, people opened up, gave themselves to it. I was limited by my youth; it wasn’t until many years later that I was able to travel across the country, witness strikes, go into the mines, hospitals, the shacks of the poor, forgotten little schools, the cheap boardinghouses, the dusty plazas where retired old men sat and stared, the fields and fishing villages. "Light is the language of photography, the soul of the world. There is no light without shadow, just as there is no happiness without pain," Don Juan Ribero told me seventeen years ago during the lesson he gave me that first day in his studio on the Plaza de Armas. I have never forgotten.


* * * * *


When Amanda Lowell noticed that I was never without my camera and spent hours closeted in the darkroom I improvised in our rented house, she offered to introduce me to the most celebrated photographers in Paris. Like my maestro, Juan Ribero, she believed that photography and painting are not competing arts but basically different: the painter interprets reality, and the camera captures it. In the former everything is fiction, while the second is the sum of the real plus the sensibility of the photographer. Ribero never allowed me sentimental or exhibitionist tricks—none of this arranging objects or models to look like paintings. He was the enemy of artificial composition; he did not let me manipulate negatives or prints, and in general he scorned effects of spots or diffuse lighting: he wanted the honest and simple image, although clear in the most minute details. “If what you want is the effect of a painting, then paint, Aurora. If what you want is truth, learn to use your camera,” he would say again and again. Amanda Lowell never treated me like a child; she took me seriously from the beginning. She too was fascinated by photography, which at that time no one called art and for many was just another bit of nonsense among the many bizarre and useless fripperies of a frivolous century. “I'm a little past the age to learn photography, Aurora, but you have young eyes, you can see the world and make others see it the way you do. A good photographer tells a story, it reveals a place, an event, a state of mind; it’s more powerful than pages and pages of writing,” she told me.


From "Portrait in Sepia" by Isabel Allende