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sehmmoum learn and shine

26/02/2025
17/01/2025

Noticing that the adoption system in America discriminated against Asian and black children in
favor of white, in the early 1950s Buck decided to fight the system and help the disempowered. After a
long struggle she founded the Welcome House-the first international, in*******al center for adoptionand changed the lives of countless children. While doing all of this, she never gave up literature, or
slowed down her writing. Quite to the contrary, her motherhood and activism seem to have propelled
her career as a writer.
Last, there are also women writers who might have wanted to have children, but their husbands
didn’t, and therefore neither did they. Many believe that that was the case with the renowned British
writer Iris Murdoch. There have been claims that her husband, John Bayley, never wanted to have kids
and she went along with his wishes. A biography published after Murdoch’s death outlined this lesserknown side of their relationship, causing quite a stir.
I try to find a formula, a golden formula, that could apply to most, if not all, women writers, but
obviously there is none.
J. K. Rowling started writing the Harry Potter series after her son was born and dedicated the
subsequent books to her newborn daughter. She says motherhood gives her inspiration. One assumes
that a mother who writes about magic must be telling supernatural stories when she tucks her children
into bed, but J. K. Rowling says she doesn’t believe in witchcraft, only in religion. I don’t know how
smoothly her household runs, but Rowling seems to have a real knack for fusing motherhood and
writing.
Then there is Toni Morrison, who had two small sons that she was raising by herself when she first
began to write. For many years she could not work in the daylight hours, her rendezvous with pen and
paper taking place before dawn, when the boys would wake up. As difficult as life was for her then,
she says she drew inspiration from each hardship.
Sometimes the biggest award a woman writer hopes to receive is neither the Man Booker Prize nor
the Orange Prize but a good-hearted, hardworking nanny. It is a dream shared by many, to hear those
five magic words: “And the Nanny goes to…” No wonder some of the grants Sylvia Plath won were
written up as “nanny grants”-money with which she could hire a professional caretaker to find
the time and energy to write

11/01/2025

Lyrics
Turn me loose from your hands
Let me fly to distant lands
Over green fields, trees and mountains
Flowers and forest fountains
Home along the lanes of the skyway
For this dark and lonely room
Projects a shadow cast in gloom
And my eyes are mirrors
Of the world outside
Thinking of the ways
That the wind can turn the tide
And these shadows turn
From purple into grey
For just a skyline pigeon
Dreaming of the open
Waiting for the day
That he can spread his wings
And fly away again
Fly away, skyline pigeon fly
Towards the dreams
You've left so very far behind
Fly away, skyline pigeon fly
Towards the dreams
You've left so very far behind
Let me wake up in the morning
To the smell of new mowed hay
To laugh and cry, to live and die
In the brightness of my day
I wanna hear the pealing bells
Of distant churches sing
But most of all please free me from
This aching metal ring
And open out this cage towards the sun
For just this skyline pigeon
Dreaming of the open
Waiting for the day
That he can spread his wings
And fly away again
Fly away, skyline pigeon fly
Towards the dreams
You've left so very far behind
Fly away, skyline pigeon fly
Towards the dreams
You've left so very
So very far behind
Source: LyricFind

08/01/2025

It is midnight
His tent lurked afar
fighting the light
who would like to join me
in dancing Aurora
And smiling at the night

The glow in her smile
took him high
kneeling for a while
weaving the thread
of mysterious dusk
sowing peace
@ written by ZOHRA KAHWACHI
Rectified by sihem cherif

27/12/2024

Interchangeability in world literature through common proverbs and figures of speech.
A comparative study of two books; The island of Missing trees " by Elif Shafek
And "The Diaries of Jilani Hamed " by Sahbi Kerani
Trees
Thumbing some masterpieces in English and arab literature, I have come to understand that the language of expressing oneself is one

I admit that I have always been exposed to proverbs in our everyday language and books. Proverbs have been a source of wisdom and black humour either to support an utterance or to express an utter disapproval that can be said outward.
In this article, I am going through two books one in English and the other one in Arabic.
The first book is by Elif Shafek, The Island of Missing Trees, and the other one is by Tunisian writer Sahbi Keraani The Diaries of Jilani Hamed.
If you ask me why I have chosen to ride upon the field of comparative literature here, I may answer that both books reside in remote corners and they might have never met if it had not happened to have them in my bookshelf.
The first is the tenth book of a renowned writer, and the other is the first novel of a Tunisian writer holding a doctorate in maths. The book has recently won a Comar prize. But both books engulf some history and facts to wrap the human quest toward those lost answers of love, struggle, journey, and maybe wars.
Both books allow you to tread communities and step upon grounds you have not seen before. Cyprus in the case of The Island of Missing Trees.Tunisia and the countryside of Kairouan, the village of AIN Hamed.
Both writers venerated and voiced the tree, and both enriched their narration with proverbs. But first, let's have a brief summary of the two books.
In "The Island of the Missing Tree," the writer weaves the love story of two young people who share the same country but do not share the same faith. Cyprus has always been a bone of contention between Muslim Turks and Christian Greeks, and both sides have embraced the multicultural island due to its strategic location.
As David Mitchel says 'This is a wise novel of love and grief, roots and branches, displacement and home, faith and belief".

The diaries of Jilani Hamed are a long trip of a three-generation family, from the day of the establishment of their first village to the day Jilani returns from Europe. All the ups and downs, the rivers crossed and the mountains climbed by this family who had witnessed grief and displacement too.

strikingly enough lots of the events take place under the tree in both novels. A fig tree in Elife 's book and an oak tree in Sahbi's book
It is that shade of humour sprinkled on every page of Sahbi 's book and that deep analysis in Elif's book that made me speak about the massive use of proverbs in both novels.

In The Diaries of Jilani Hamed, the writer resorts to proverbs from different nooks and corners. What has drawn my attention is that the writer manipulates the proverbs the way he likes.
Sometimes he takes them and they are from the Tunisian dialect "Hiss biss "which means in vain or from the French community and tries to translate them into Arabic since the novel is written in Tunisian Arabic for example " avoir un cadavre dans le placards "
p.24 (The diaries of Jilani )
which denotes living with a heavy secret and if the translation goes here it is in English " having a co**se in the wardrobe "
The writer borrows a lot from proverbs from the English language
as well and as I previously said he tries to translate them 'p 17 "Do not cry over spilt Milk " which means never feel regretful about something that would never come back "
The author uses proverbs to put the writer in a very definite cultural proverb and here for instance I mention the proverb " like a torn piece of rope drawn by the flow of the river "p 20" which means someone who comes to a place a stranger. What is fascinating is that we readers have learnt the whole story of this proverb which is the cornerstone of the creation of village Ain Hamed.
In another context, the author resorts to Danish proverbs or even Turkish ones to say the human language is one no matter how tongues are different because what drives a language is a sheer feeling or a response to situations.
I personally responded positively when the writer borrowed from Hamlet " Denmark is a rotten state " and appreciated the fact that you must be highly cultured to write a novel for the whole world.
Proverbs in the Diaries of Jilani Hamed are efficient, describing different settings and outlining the richness of the culture of Tunisia, But while the sayings in this novel are scattered along nearly four hundred pages, Elif Shafek has devoted to them a whole chapter called proverbs though some proverbs do exist in some pages.
The writer resorted to proverbs to convey a message from Cyprus culture to the London-born daughter who did not seem to know much about her parent's native place.
Many of them come on the tongue of Meriem, the Turkish aunt who came to visit her niece in London.
Unlike Sahbi Kerani, Elif Shafek uses mainly original proverbs without feeling the need to translate such as " God made lower branches for birds that cannot fly " p 195 OR a cheese vessel would not merely sail with words "
in fact, the girl was so surprised by her aunt's abandoned use of proverbs that she asked whether they were true ones or not?
proverbs tell a lot about the place and the environment, for instance, someone who has always lived in the desert, could hardly fathom the proverb ' rough waves make good sailors "
In her book The Island of Missing Trees, " The author depicts the atrocities of ethnic wars so it is no stranger to Meriem one of the characters in the book to use the following proverb "Fire and gunpowder should not come together "

I have tried to speak about two completely different books, yet there is something hidden that ties them. The power of words to describe, record and even draw portraits, and maybe both books sway between two settings Europe and Mediterranean countries
@ sihem cherif

11/12/2024

Lost " when life rafters get so rusty we are all lost "
lost is my second novella in English I have written it to pay tribute to the dear people I lost. To he who had shared with me the dearest moments of seeing him feeding and caring for pets.My father Mostapha Cherif.Peace upon his soul.
To "She "who had tolerated my pain whenever some hurt happened to my pets. My mother Behija Fellah . May she rest in peace.
To my two brothers, who shared an immense love for pets and left me in the void of grief when they departed early to a better world.
May they rest in peace.
sihem Mostapha cherif

31/10/2024

Sihem Mostapha Cherif is a poet, writer, translator, and English language teacher. She writes mainly in Arabic and English and has tried many literary genres and critical studies.
She is an active member of international forums
She has released three poetry books in English and one in Arabic, respectively Dusk and Dawn ( 2018)
The Colour of Milk (2021)
Sighs (2022)
Warm reefs are not deserted by the Albatrosses(2023) in Arabic

04/10/2024

Found in the rubble of bygone time ...

04/10/2024
08/09/2024

The journey of a dejected heart

He looked at her with a deep glare, she wished she could feel that look and make it find its way to her heart .
He came near her and murmured:" You look beautiful and you smell like summer breeze upon a deserted shore "
she smiled and appreciated his poetic aspect of giving and sending roses to a middle-aged woman.
They waited for the end of the party before he tried to touch her left hand and brought it to his lips, she suddenly drew it back.
She looked at her short skirt and tried to pull it down to her knees .
She has been putting on weight ever since the death of her dear ones and her family and felt at an unfathomable loss.
Though she could not deny that piling up pounds was also due to age and the drastic dwindling of her physical activity .....
She looked at him she did not want to say anything
He opened the car door and asked her in, she silently accepted the invitation and went.
" When do birds come home," he asked
she smiled and answered:" when I prepare their nest "
He seemed happy with her answer and tried to hug her with one hand, this time she did not retreat she neared her head and buried it in the pit of his shoulder
" I feel cold, she said .winter in my life has devoured spring dawns "
He lowered his eyes to meet hers and murmured:" we will greet dawn very soon and we'll borrow some rays of the day's baby son "
She sighed and wished she could confess:" I am too old to have a baby " but she did not want to flunk off desire in his eyes
She did not take garments with her, just the outlets she was. wearing that night, she felt a bit cold as the ride was long. She wanted to ask him about the destination but she was keen on tasting the flare of a surprise.
The mist behind the windshield's front glass was thick, It had borrowed a lot from the mist that had reigned over her heart for all these years. She smiled at the mist and tried to stretch a hand to grasp the droplets of rain beating her left seat glass, she knew that these drips had sprung from her eyes, something which had deeper furrows on her face.
How could he find her, still beautiful when some other people have already up her over the hill?
" where are we going " she finally asked
" our destination shall be determined by the amount of fuel in the car, the engine stops we will bid goodbye to the previous life and start a new one "
She looked and smiled with her dejected heart , took his hand and kissed it
@ sihem cherif
.

05/05/2024

Hyperion
by
John Keats

Hyperion, a Fragment is an abandoned epic poem by 19th-century English Romantic poet John Keats. It was published in Lamia, Isabella, The Eve of St. Agnes, and Other Poems (1820). It is based on the Titanomachia, and tells of the despair of the Titans after their fall to the Olympians. Keats wrote the poem from late 1818 until the spring of 1819. The poem stops abruptly in the middle of the third book, with close to 900 lines having been completed. He gave it up as having "too many Miltonic inversions." He was also nursing his younger brother Tom, who died on 1 December 1818 of tuberculosis.

Keats picked up the ideas again in his unfinished poem The Fall of Hyperion: A Dream (1856) published after his death. He attempted to recast the epic by framing it with a personal quest to find truth and understanding.

These poems were Keats' final attempt to reconcile his perceived conflict between mortal decay and absolute value.

Introduction
Keats’s Hyperion is one of the most magnificent fragments of English literature. It is a fragment, yet it is magnificent. Having taken a very simple story from classical mythology, Keats gave it the touch of bis masterly handling and produced a marvelous piece of literary, art. The poem deals with the story of the dethronement of Titans by the Olympians. Keats wanted to raise the poem to the epic grandeur of Milton’s Paradise Lost. There is no denying the fact that as far as epic perfection is concerned, Keats’s poem does not come anywhere near Milton’s poem which unquestionably ranks on the top as an epic in English literature. Hyperion lacks two fundamental characteristics of an epic, great action and great characters. It has only the elevated style which again happens to be another pre-requisite of an epic.

Hyperion: by John Keats Summary & Analysis

Summary
In Book I we see Saturn, king of the primeval gods or Titans lying prone and paralysed in a deep dell, having been struck down from his throne by his son Jupiter with the very thunder-bolt he has wrenched from his father. Thea, the wife of the sun-god, Hyperion, beholding his plight, sinks down at his feet weeping. Shivering and faltering, he asks her as to what has happened to that sovereign power which once reigned as Saturn—an ‘influence benign’ over creation. In agony he cries:

“Cannot I form? Cannot I fashion forth

Another world, another universe,
To overbear and crumble this to nought? where is another chaos? Where?”

The words kindling a glow of hope, she leads him to the den where the other Titans lay stricken, either chained in torture or imprisoned in a stifling air. But among the mighty brood of Titans, there was one who still kept his sovereignty—non others than Hyperion, who still throned on his one sniffed the incense mounting up from the world of man.

But even he reads the portents of the coming catastrophe. While Saturn and Thea are on their way to the murky defile where the Titans lie prostrate Hyperion enters his palace and thunders out his defiance of rebel Jove. He “would advance his terrible right arm, scare that infant thunderer and bid old Saturn take his throne again.” Six hours before the dawn he would commence the day, but even a god cannot lawlessly disturb the order of Nature. As he sinks on his couch, grief-stricken at the humiliation, his mother, Coelus, (the Heavens) counsels him the way of wisdom. It was a pity he had allowed himself to be torn by rival passions, like a frail man: “Sad sign of ruin, sudden dismay and fall.” Nevertheless, she says: ‘do not be ruled by events, anticipate and seek to control them before they become too formidable’:

Be thou therefore in the van
Of circumstance; yea, seize the arrow’s barb
Before the tense string murmur

Book II, opens with the description of representative Titans in their prostration and despair holding council; presently we come to its main theme, the speeches of Oceanus and Clemence (his daughter) and by way of reply to Saturn’s demand for counsel: “Tell me, all ye brethren Gods, How we can war, how engine our great warth?” Oceanus explains the significance of the change that has come on the Titans. They have fallen by course of Nature’s law not by force of thunder or of Jove. Saturn himself was but an episode in an evolution of Heaven and Earth to fairer and fain states. He was neither the beginning nor the end. They, the fallen gods, had succeeded to an elder world of Chaos and parents Darkness. Even so they must perforce be succeeded by powers fairer far than they. Wisdom lies in facing all naked truths unblenched—in calmly 'envisaging circumstances'. Clymense reinforces the argument with her own experience, how she had to throw away the shell from which she used to evoke her melodies, when Apollo’s enchanting strains fell upon her ears. Enceladus, follows with his Moloch-like wrath and defiance, and his words put new hope into some of his listeners, including dejected Hyperion, who shouts forth Saturn’s name-calling him to action.

In Book III we see Mnemosyne (the goddess of Memory) rallying Apollo, Hyperion’s successor, from a benumbing dejection and a strange forgetfulness. He feels the travail of latent powers, far brighter, and far more benignant than Hyperion and the elder gods had known. But he cannot understand the why and wherefore of that travail and he asks Mnemosyne to help him to that new consciousness. We see him as he undergoes the struggle and the ‘sea-change’

Names, deeds, gray legends, dire events, rebellions
Majesties, sovereign voices, agonies.
Creations and destroying, all at once,
Pour into the wide hollows of my brain,
And deify me, as if some blithe wine
Or bright elixir peerless I had drunk,
And so become immortal.

The poem breaks off abruptly as Apollo emerges resplendent from the throes of his agony.

“Hyperion begins in the middle of the story. Saturn and Oceanus are already deposed, and many of their colleagues (most of them it may be remarked, Giants, not Titans, who therefore, took part in the later war and nut properly speaking in the I Titanomachy at all) are already chained in torture (L. 18); the kingdom of Hyperion himself, though as yet unassailed, is filled with portents of its coming doom”.

Critical Analysis
Theme of the struggle between old order and new
We have pointed out two very major weak points of the poem but the loss is more than compensated by what Keats had in his store to add to the poem. Rising above the limitations of an epic, he interwove into its fiber his entire philosophy of life and his poem shall always continue to be loved and remembered for the depth of its thought and feelings. Keats was absolutely alive to the spirit and cause of French Revolution. He knew that people were sacrificing their lives for the cause of equality and liberty. His sympathies were with those who were making an untiring struggle for the replacement of the tyrannical old order by a new order based on justice, liberty and equality. Keats wanted to bring home the message that old order must yield place to new and it is this struggle between two systems that Keats represents through the struggle between Titans and Olympians, whereby the story of the poem assumes an allegorical significance. Keats makes use of Oceanus to give expression to the philosophy of old order versus new. Oceanus puts it in very unambiguous terms before the fallen Titans that they must accept the supremacy of the new order that has established its superiority over the old. He says:

‘‘On our heels, a fresh perfection treads.
A power more strong in beauty, born of us And fated to excel us”.

Theme of beauty as a creative force
The other hallmark of Hyperion is its handling of Keats’s oft-repeated theme of beauty and in this case also Keats chooses Oceanus to be his spokesman. Ocean us explains to the fallen gods that their fall was inevitable because they had started lacking in the creative force of the universe (that force being beauty) and their successors had surpassed them in it. Oceans says that power is associated with beauty. Loss of beauty means death of civilization and creation of beauty in its life. He has this to say about the new generation of gods, who do tower
Above us in their beauty, and must reign
In right thereof, ‘tis the eternal law
That first in beauty should be first in might.

Personal element in the poem
The third book of Hyperion gives an added significance to the poem in so far as it touches upon Keats’s personal life. Apollo is no other than Keats himself. While describing Apolio’s morning walk Keats is in fact giving expression to his own favorite occupation of gazing on, listening to 'nature’s gentle doings'. This is how Keats gives a description of Apollo’s schedule in the early hours of morning:

In the morning twilight wandered forth
Beside the osiers of a rivulet
Full ankle-deep in lillies of the vale.

In these lines, Keats is giving vent to the feelings that he had in his own heart for the beauties of nature. In fact it is his own close and vivid observation of nature. Thus by introducing an element of the personal and lyrical in Hyperion Keats marks it with a stamp of his own which makes the poem all the more lovable.

Style of ‘Hyperion’
And finally a word about the style of Hyperion. To give to the poem, the proper style of an epic Keats kept Milton before him as his model. He gave it the intensity and restraint of an epic, the discipline and structural coherence, firmness and integrity, the connotative intensity and richness of imagery. No doubt Keats himself admits that his Muse is weak at singing heroic and war poetry (which also explains why the poem was left unfinished) yet he has been able to elevate the style to a large degree though it can- not match Milton’s maturity and perfection. If Keats has less than Milton’s imagery, he has more than his magic, if he has less of dramatic passion and movement, he has more of sculpturesque repose. His blank verse is fine.

Critical Appreciation
Amid the solemn grandur of the figures and scenes, Miltionic in their magnificence and boldness of outline, we have the subdued tints and alluring lights and shadows that are of Keats's own native inspiration. It is like catching sight of flowers and streams and coy graces peeping out amid the clefts of a reeky foreground. Before we have read the overture of fourteen lines we have the chaste and pure outlines of a Greek statue:

The Naiad mid her reeds
Press’d her cold finger closer to her lips.

Presently, after a score of lines we have the Keatsians association of Beauty and Sorrow and the discernment of beauty in sorrow:

How beautiful, if sorrow had not made
Sorrow more beautiful than Beauty’s self.

We know we have heard something very like it before; we pause a moment and recollect the roundelay on sorrow in Endymion (iv), and perhaps this stanza:

Come then, Sorrow!
Sweetest Sorrow!
Like an own babe I nurse thee on my breast:
I thought to leave thee
And deceive thee
But now of all the world I love thee best.

We have not to proceed far before we light on lines that take us to the very heart of the Romantic Movement with its sense of my story of the past in “the green-rob’d senators of mighty woods, it is a call to the imagination to think of these gigantic lords of the forest as providing a proper mise-enscene for the gods of infant world; we are made to feel along with it the enchantment exercised by the stars in the stillness of the summer night on the branches hushed and held by their dream of them:
Tall oaks, branch-charmed by the earnest stars,
Dream, and so dream all night without a stir,

The simile we know is pure Keats, and for a moment we are far away from Milton.

In the comparison of Saturn and Thea to “natural sculpture in Cathedral Cavern” we recognize an image suggested by some o the Parthenon sculptures (which had produced an indelible impression on Keats) applied to what he had observed at first-hand in Fingal’s Cave. Then in the description of Hypenon s palace (LI. 176-181), we have mythology dissolving m a gorgeous picture of sunrise heralding a stormy day. If this picture is some-what remote from the Keats of the Odes, something tated—the lines describing the slow breathed melodies played by the Zephyrs and the portals of Hyperion’s palace opening like a rose in vermeil tint of shape’—‘in fragrance soft and coolness to the eye’—give us a glimpse of the innermost chamber of the world Keats loved.

In Book II the central thought of the poem is not given in Keats’ habitual style, but in lines that are austere and heightened as befits its tone. The scene at the beginning is vague and shadowy. Suddenly, we come upon a vivid and striking image, drawn from personal recollection,

Of the dismal crique
Of Druid stones, upon a forlorn moor,
When the chill rain begins at shut of eve
In dull November

It is not till he comes to Clymen’s description of Apollo s ravishing music that Keats gets a chance to indulge the lyric picture of fused melody and color. The ‘rapturous hurried notes fall like pearl beads —

Each like a dove leaving its olive perch,
With music wing’d instead of silent plumes,
To hover round my head, and make me sick
Of joy and grief at once.

It is like the breaking in of Lydian airs on Dorian.
In Book III Milton goes down and Keats is on the saddle. In the clouds of morn and even floating like voluptuous fleeces o’er the hills; in the red wine boiling cold as a bubbling well; in the maid blushing keenly—as with a warm kiss surpris’d; in the patient brilliance of the moon; in the silver splendor of the star panting with bliss, we have the intense and impassioned phrases with Keatsian magic on them.

Conclusion

With all its drawbacks, Hyperion is a lovable epic. It gives us a thesis of life in a concrete shape. Dealing with super-human beings, the poem retains its human character. It does not take us away from the world of man rather it helps us look at life with greater insight, and more than that poem has its artistic worthy It has its. own artistic beauty which makes it a memorable literary piece.

In Endymion Keats had trailed the reader through an endless labyrinth of dreaming narrative and cloying description of amorous ardors. Its languorous beauties seem to smother us under rose. In Hyperion he decides to discard them, and adopts a style of bracing economy and concinnity, There is no loading here of ‘every rift Avith ore’. In place of irrelevant episodes and phantom journeyings through subterranean corridors and submarine palaces through which we were led such a wild goose chase in Endymion, we have here a narrative that stands out in classical pure and simple outline; and we have scenes and figures standing out sculptural relief. Hyperion presents a Greek theme in the Greek manner, with Miltonic echoes—nevertheless a new and original creation, with merits and drawbacks all its own. In Hyperion, as in Endymion, a symbolic meaning enter to quicken an ancient myth to a new life. Before we consider that meaning we must glance at the theme itself.

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