hello, my name is Iqbal alSharif, I'm Arabic instructor to non native speakers i have a certificate from Jordan university in Methods of Teaching Arabic to non native speakers and another certificate from Istanbul Institute of Languages. I am a Native Arabic speaker and speak English too, with experience in teaching students from all around the world. My teaching experience have allowed me to learn so much about different cultures. My students come from Turkey, China, USA, Macedonia, Pakistan, Australia and France. Together, we can practice : · Conversational Speech and Pronunciation · listening · Reading · Writing i use zoom meeting program to teaching Arabic. I am in Jordan standard time +3 UTC. I am very flexible with my time, so please send me a message with your ...
The violins
The violins weep with the Gypsies heading for Andalusia,
the violins cry for the Arabs departing Andalusia.
The violins cry for a lost epoch that will not return,
The violins cry for a lost homeland that could be regained.
The violins burn the forests of the far darkness
the violins wound the horizon, and smell the blood in my veins.
The violins are horses on a string of phantoms, and water groaning,
the violins are a field of wild lilac that move forward and backward.
The violins are a beast tortured by the nails of a woman
who touches and then move away, the violins are an army that builds a grave of marble and melodies.
The violins are the anarchy of hearts picked up by the
wind on a dancer's foot, the violins are flocks of birds seeking shade under an incomplete banner.
The violins are the complaints of the curled silk on a passionate night,
the violins are the effect of wine denied to an earlier thirst.
The violins follow me, here and there, to avenge me,
the violins are searching to kill me, wherever they find me.
My violins cry for the Arabs departing Andalusia,
the violins weep with the Gypsies heading for Andalusia.
The violins weep with the Gypsies heading for Andalusia,
the violins cry for the Arabs departing Andalusia.
The violins cry for a lost epoch that will not return,
The violins cry for a lost homeland that could be regained.
The violins burn the forests of the far darkness
the violins wound the horizon, and smell the blood in my veins.
The violins are horses on a string of phantoms, and water groaning,
the violins are a field of wild lilac that move forward and backward.
The violins are a beast tortured by the nails of a woman
who touches and then move away, the violins are an army that builds a grave of marble and melodies.
The violins are the anarchy of hearts picked up by the
wind on a dancer's foot, the violins are flocks of birds seeking shade under an incomplete banner.
The violins are the complaints of the curled silk on a passionate night,
the violins are the effect of wine denied to an earlier thirst.
The violins follow me, here and there, to avenge me,
the violins are searching to kill me, wherever they find me.
My violins cry for the Arabs departing Andalusia,
the violins weep with the Gypsies heading for Andalusia.