A Melodrama in Two Acts
Two acts too many. Make it stop! At least give me an intermission so I can run screaming from the theatre. Metaphor == officially overdone.
(I've got some nerve, but energy's scarce and I gotta keep breathing, you know?)
Kelma helwa u kelmeten
Helwa ya baladi
Ghenwa helwa ou ghenweten
Helwa ya baladi
Amali dayman kan ya baladi
Enni argaalek ya baladi
Wafdal dayman gambek alatoul
Zekraya kollefat
Fakra baladi
Albi malyan benkayat
Fakra ya baladi
Awel hob kan fi baladi
Meeh monken ansàh ya baladi
Fen ayam zaman
Abl el wedaa
Konna ben oul en el foura-a da moustahil
We kolle demaa ala el khadden kanet bitsil
Malyana bé amal en ehna nob-à mawgoudin
Fe bahr el hob ala el shatten
Kelma helwa u kelmeten
Helwa ya baladi
Ghenwa helwa ou ghenweten
Helwa ya baladi
Fen habbib el alb ya baladi
Kan beid anni ya baladi
We kolle ma baghani
Bafakkar fi
Oul ya habibi enta sayebni w rayeh fen
Da ahla lahn han ghanni ehnal etnen
Ya mahla kelmet baladi fe ghenwa ben satren
Ya lel ya en ya en ya lel
Kelma helwa u kelmeten
Helwa ya baladi
Ghenwa helwa ou ghenweten
Helwa ya baladi
Amali dayman kan ya baladi
Enni argaalek ya baladi
Wafdal dayman gambek alatoul
The funeral was yesterday, the burial this morning. I read from Isaiah. Somehow, it was more difficult than my grandmother's. He was the last one, you know? Tadku. There was so much fighting. We did a rosary before the service, and I was ok then. Silmar came. Then we began and the cantor opened with "On Eagles Wings." I opened my mouth to sing and began to cry instead. The most public display of emotion for me ever. It used to be one of my favorite hymns- I committed the song to memory and would sing it to myself when I felt troubled; yes, I'm that dorky.
Then I had to give the reading. I could barely control my voice. But the words came, if from an enormous distance. I made a lot of people cry but I managed to keep myself contained.
After the service my mom had a nervous breakdown. She's still recovering.
I'm exhausted and lonely and too tired to seek company. My brother's been mad at me because I've stopped talking. I've stopped answering his questions, I just don't have the energy. I like to discuss things that matter; those are in short supply, and none of them are worth sharing with the family. I'm beginning to feel as wooden as I must seem to them. They're surprised when I'm human. Ah, it's always either too much or not enough.
On Sunday I went to mass, but it was just dad, Jonathan and myself. Throughout the liturgy, I felt increasingly sick. Finally, I darted out the door during the Profession of Faith. I've never left mass before, but I... We got into a horrible fight when they returned home- about my car being parked in front of the house, of all things- and I walked out. Then I came home and made appetizers, dinner and dessert for twelve people. Afterwards, I made coffee and cleaned.
I want to care about something again. I wasn't built for this, and I'm not fond of these adaptations. I've become an expert at making Manhattans. I think I'm going to stop drinking, though. Alcohol gives me disturbing and vivid nightmares about my personal life- believe it or not, I still kind of have one of those. Buh-dum-cha!
(I've got some nerve, but energy's scarce and I gotta keep breathing, you know?)
Kelma helwa u kelmeten
Helwa ya baladi
Ghenwa helwa ou ghenweten
Helwa ya baladi
Amali dayman kan ya baladi
Enni argaalek ya baladi
Wafdal dayman gambek alatoul
Zekraya kollefat
Fakra baladi
Albi malyan benkayat
Fakra ya baladi
Awel hob kan fi baladi
Meeh monken ansàh ya baladi
Fen ayam zaman
Abl el wedaa
Konna ben oul en el foura-a da moustahil
We kolle demaa ala el khadden kanet bitsil
Malyana bé amal en ehna nob-à mawgoudin
Fe bahr el hob ala el shatten
Kelma helwa u kelmeten
Helwa ya baladi
Ghenwa helwa ou ghenweten
Helwa ya baladi
Fen habbib el alb ya baladi
Kan beid anni ya baladi
We kolle ma baghani
Bafakkar fi
Oul ya habibi enta sayebni w rayeh fen
Da ahla lahn han ghanni ehnal etnen
Ya mahla kelmet baladi fe ghenwa ben satren
Ya lel ya en ya en ya lel
Kelma helwa u kelmeten
Helwa ya baladi
Ghenwa helwa ou ghenweten
Helwa ya baladi
Amali dayman kan ya baladi
Enni argaalek ya baladi
Wafdal dayman gambek alatoul
The funeral was yesterday, the burial this morning. I read from Isaiah. Somehow, it was more difficult than my grandmother's. He was the last one, you know? Tadku. There was so much fighting. We did a rosary before the service, and I was ok then. Silmar came. Then we began and the cantor opened with "On Eagles Wings." I opened my mouth to sing and began to cry instead. The most public display of emotion for me ever. It used to be one of my favorite hymns- I committed the song to memory and would sing it to myself when I felt troubled; yes, I'm that dorky.
Then I had to give the reading. I could barely control my voice. But the words came, if from an enormous distance. I made a lot of people cry but I managed to keep myself contained.
After the service my mom had a nervous breakdown. She's still recovering.
I'm exhausted and lonely and too tired to seek company. My brother's been mad at me because I've stopped talking. I've stopped answering his questions, I just don't have the energy. I like to discuss things that matter; those are in short supply, and none of them are worth sharing with the family. I'm beginning to feel as wooden as I must seem to them. They're surprised when I'm human. Ah, it's always either too much or not enough.
On Sunday I went to mass, but it was just dad, Jonathan and myself. Throughout the liturgy, I felt increasingly sick. Finally, I darted out the door during the Profession of Faith. I've never left mass before, but I... We got into a horrible fight when they returned home- about my car being parked in front of the house, of all things- and I walked out. Then I came home and made appetizers, dinner and dessert for twelve people. Afterwards, I made coffee and cleaned.
I want to care about something again. I wasn't built for this, and I'm not fond of these adaptations. I've become an expert at making Manhattans. I think I'm going to stop drinking, though. Alcohol gives me disturbing and vivid nightmares about my personal life- believe it or not, I still kind of have one of those. Buh-dum-cha!