WORDS ABOUT TERRORISM

[المحامي سامر غسان عباس]

I tried to write about the recent accidents of terror around the world , in a matter of fact I have been trying to write something strong and powerful against the cruelty of human actions not only from the dangerous terrorist attacks of 11/9/2001 and the black bloody explosions of Madrid in mars 2004 and the devilish actions in Gaza and the whole holly territory around Jerusalem and other parts of the world…but the truth I am telling you that I couldn't find any words describes terror or vandalism than the words of the Great polish poet (Wislawa Szymborska) in her poem (( the Terrorist, he Watches ))which I read it for the first time ,in the last day of the year 1996 after a certain terrorist unknown group exploded a civilian Bus carrying 55 passengers, who were heading to their families(to spend the new years eve) in Aleppo starting their journey from a major bus station in a Region called ( Alhalbony )in the center of the Syrian capital Damascus ,the explosion killed 21 person and injured the whole rest passengers…….
Now … every day when I first open my eyes in the morning , I pray to God to save me from seeing another massacre in the (CNN)morning news …….. sadly the mighty God has not responded my pray yet .
Now to the polish great poem


The Terrorist, He Watches
The bomb will go off in the bar at one twenty p.m.
Now it’s only one sixteen p.m.
Some will still have time to go in,
Some to get out.

The terrorist has already crossed to the other side of the street.
The distance protects him from any danger,
and what a sight for sore eyes.
A woman in a yellow jacket, she goes in.
A man in dark glasses, he comes out.
Guys in dark jeans, they are talking.
One seventeen and four seconds.
That shorter guy’s really got it made, and gets on a scooter,
and that taller one, he goes in.
One seventeen and forty seconds.
That girl there, she’s got a green ribbon in her hair.
Too bad that bus just cut her from view.
One eighteen p.m.
The girl’s not there anymore.
Was she dumb enough to go in, or wasn’t she?
That we’ll see when they carry them out.
One nineteen p.m.
No one seems to be going in.
Instead a fat baldy’s coming out.
Like he’s looking for something in his pockets and
at one nineteen and fifty seconds
he goes back in for those crummy gloves of his.
It’s one twenty p.m.
The time, how it drags.
Should be any moment now.
Not yet.
Yes, this is it.
The bomb, it goes off.
This specific translation of the poem I took it fromhttp://www.ruthgroup.org/2005/11/06/the-terrorist-he-watches/
by Robert Maguire and Magnus Jan Krynsky
Best regards to all my readers
Samer Ghassan Abbas
Syrian Lawyer
+96341871623
LEFT][/LEFT]

[المحامية علياء النجار]

With thanks to mr. Ghassan multitude of diverse themes that enrich the Forum

[المحامي سامر غسان عباس]

thank you miss Najjar for your kindness and your comment

[المحامي محمد رواد زياده]

It's a nice Poem
And I'm sure that Gad will respond to your Prys someday mr.Samer

[المحامي سامر غسان عباس]

THANK U Mr ZIADEH

[المحامي سامر غسان عباس]

I re dedicate this poem upwards … to the souls of the Russians victims who died or wounded in the restaurant last night hoping that no terrorist attack was behind this horrible accident :

The Terrorist, He Watches
The bomb will go off in the bar at one twenty p.m.
Now it’s only one sixteen p.m.
Some will still have time to go in,
Some to get out.

The terrorist has already crossed to the other side of the street.
The distance protects him from any danger,
and what a sight for sore eyes.
A woman in a yellow jacket, she goes in.
A man in dark glasses, he comes out.
Guys in dark jeans, they are talking.
One seventeen and four seconds.
That shorter guy’s really got it made, and gets on a scooter,
and that taller one, he goes in.
One seventeen and forty seconds.
That girl there, she’s got a green ribbon in her hair.
Too bad that bus just cut her from view.
One eighteen p.m.
The girl’s not there anymore.
Was she dumb enough to go in, or wasn’t she?
That we’ll see when they carry them out.
One nineteen p.m.
No one seems to be going in.
Instead a fat baldy’s coming out.
Like he’s looking for something in his pockets and
at one nineteen and fifty seconds
he goes back in for those crummy gloves of his.
It’s one twenty p.m.
The time, how it drags.
Should be any moment now.
Not yet.
Yes, this is it.
The bomb, it goes off.
This specific translation of the poem I took it fromhttp://www.ruthgroup.org/2005/11/06/the-terrorist-he-watches/
by Robert Maguire and Magnus Jan Krynsky
Best regards to all my readers
Samer Ghassan Abbas
Syrian Lawyer
+96341871623

[المحامي سامر غسان عباس]

Sadly I re dedicate this poem to every one who suffered from the terrorist attack against the Coptic church in Alexandria with my greatest condolences

The Terrorist, He Watches
The bomb will go off in the bar at one twenty p.m.
Now it’s only one sixteen p.m.
Some will still have time to go in,
Some to get out.

The terrorist has already crossed to the other side of the street.
The distance protects him from any danger,
and what a sight for sore eyes.
A woman in a yellow jacket, she goes in.
A man in dark glasses, he comes out.
Guys in dark jeans, they are talking.
One seventeen and four seconds.
That shorter guy’s really got it made, and gets on a scooter,
and that taller one, he goes in.
One seventeen and forty seconds.
That girl there, she’s got a green ribbon in her hair.
Too bad that bus just cut her from view.
One eighteen p.m.
The girl’s not there anymore.
Was she dumb enough to go in, or wasn’t she?
That we’ll see when they carry them out.
One nineteen p.m.
No one seems to be going in.
Instead a fat baldy’s coming out.
Like he’s looking for something in his pockets and
at one nineteen and fifty seconds
he goes back in for those crummy gloves of his.
It’s one twenty p.m.
The time, how it drags.
Should be any moment now.
Not yet.
Yes, this is it.
The bomb, it goes off.