Published On Jan 21, 2019
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Sheila, to blame
For the chanter: Faihan Al-Masradi
Words: Traveler
You have to be blamed and my libido, O Bath Al-Douh
She sings while my liver was burnt from sadness
Oh, how I stayed up, answered you, did not sit mourning
Swat lover who is talking to his lover
I shied away the dream and did not happen, the night is good
Sleeping is Allah's creation, and I sleep what I like
If my chest was hard, I would see wounds in every direction
Wounds under the ribs and wounds above
With people, but just a body with a bad soul
You say that my soul, my blue feathers, has been stolen
You see, do not be deceived by solving mirth and joking
Heart wounds closed in his box
Because he does not know the idiocy and the chaste
He does not rejoice in my pain, you will laugh, smile
I congratulate you on your feathers, pigeons, come and go
Whenever you shake off the feathers and drive them
Watch yourself, Lea Sabha, Samouh
Includes space and conditions of days attached to it
And I am in hope of the glory of Moses, and Noah was saved
And upon him the hope of the setting sun for its rise
He is released by Ali Al-Khater Al-Majrouh
He is the one who heals the wound and sutures its sleeve
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