sehmmoum

23/04/2026

23/04/2026

23/04/2026

I am not fine

Indeed, I am not fine
Very sad indeed
More than sadness itself

I am aching all over
As if my pain 's bells
Enjoyed listening to my heartbeats
Among my ribs

I am not fine
Indeed I am not fine my lords
whenever I sow joy seeds
They bloom into tears
whenever I expect to see orchards
I find desert canyons
All that remains is a mere deadly mirage
When all my hopes are dashed

I am not fine
Indeed am not fine
Death refuses to betroth me
Refuses to relieve me
Refuses to grant me mercy
Refuses to grant me patience
what a dead-alive life I am living
A wandering soul beseeching infinity

Am not ok
My boats, my ships
All destroyed by my age storm
I am tossed by tempests
unable to reach ashore
unable to find a harbor

No happiness expectations
Nothing to renew my heartthrobs
No more dew in my mornings

I plant roses
water them with my hopes
whispering to them by night
Alas, once ripe
They bestow their odor
To he who has never given them water

Ah aching heart
When shall you stop beating?
My body shall be engulfed on the ground
My soul shall rise to Almighty God

I am not fine
I am not fine indeed
Ah life stop it, please
stop bothering me
Even my henceforth brimful eyes
could weep no more
who wanted to kill me?
Time
pain
The sorrow that is usurping my glee
why?
What have I done?
I granted my life to the years
Shunned my giggles
stifled by my doubts
No longer did I find serenity
In happiness
By God, what would make you satisfied?
Don' t you think it is enough?
sadness in itself becomes sad out of my sorrow
Pain in itself becomes painful because of my pain
Even teras is shedding tears upon my tears.
where to go?
where to go?
I have nothing to reap

I am not fine my lords
Have pity upon a heart
A heart soaked in a tumultuous suffering
Neither could it recover
Nor could it perish forever
And It stops pounding
So I could ultimately embrace my grave

writen by Adel Dabbebi
Translated by Sihem cherif(sehma hela)







I

31/12/2025

The beach was yellow sand, but at the water's edge a rubble of shell and algae took its
place. Fiddler crabs bubbled and sputtered in their holes in the sand, and in the shallows
little lobsters popped in and out of their tiny homes in the rubble and sand. The sea
bottom was rich with crawling and swimming and growing things. The brown algae
waved in the gentle currents and the green eel grass swayed and little sea horses clung to
its stems. Spotted botete, the poison fish, lay on the bottom in the eel-grass beds, and the
bright-coloured swimming crabs scampered over them.

31/12/2025

And the newcomers, particularly the beggars from the front of the church who were great
experts in financial analysis, looked quickly at Juana's old blue skirt, saw the tears in her
shawl, appraised the green ribbon on her braids, read the age of Kino's blanket and the
thousand washings of his clothes, and set them down as poverty people and went along to
see what kind of drama might develop. The four beggars in front of the church knew
everything in the town.They were students of the expressions of young women as they
went into confession, and they saw them as they came out and read the nature of the sin.
They knew every little scandal and some very big crimes. They slept at their posts in the
shadow of the church so that no one crept in for consolation without their knowledge.
And they knew the doctor. They knew his ignorance, his cruelty, his avarice, his
appetites, his sins. They knew his clumsy abortions and the little brown pennies he gave
sparingly for alms. They had seen his corpses go into the church. And, since early Mass
was over and business was slow, they followed the procession, these endless searchers
after perfect knowledge of their fellow men, to see what the fat lazy doctor would do
about an indigent baby with a scorpion bite.

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03/08/2025

proverb verse
Once you trod a new lane
Do not try to truck me down
If looking for a smile
why would you rake a frown

leave no stone unturned
Even if you beat around the bush
I see it in your eyes
Repentance is a blessing

But, ripped leaves hod no water
Do you recall last summer
when I told you
It takes you to tango
like an injured lark
I never wanted you to go
And dipped my hand in the brooks that flow

when I asked for a change of scenery
you kept barking up the wrong tree
Instead of a dove, you grasped a flea
we can have a blast
if you have tapped at the rim of trust
But once you hit the road
And poured that load
In the deepest sea
we shall never tango in the same arena
Nor listen to the same melody
@ sihem cherif