Mosulske kiše
Biljana Petković
Na dan mog odlaska, kiša je padala,
Tigar me grlio kao majčina svila.
Sa obale drage, dok odlazim ja,
moj korak je tih kao šapat vetrova.
Zora nad rekom u rumenoj boji,
vetar ljubi i talase broji.
Gledah u pesak i reku dok nosim
u sebi tu suzu daleku.
Znao sam, reko, da čekaćeš mene,
kad uvenu ruže i mladost kad svene.
Sudbina gorka u put zove,
u tuđinu nosim sve neostvarene snove.
Sa tvojega izvora vode sam pio,
u srcu žbor tvog talasa krio.
I kada nad nama mir vlada,
ja ostaću tvoje dete i nada.
O, Mosulu moj, pod velom kiše,
nijedna me ne opija više.
Čekaj me, Tigre, sa dalekog puta,jer tvoja je voda mom srcu jedini lek
أَمْطَارُ المَوْصِل
بيليانا بيتكوفيتش (Biljana Petković)
فِي يَوْمِ رَحِيلِي، كَانَتِ الأَمْطَارُ تَهْطِلُ،
وَدِجْلَةُ يَحْضُنُنِي كَحَرِيرِ الأُمّ.
مِنْ شَاطِئِي الحَبِيبِ، وَأَنَا أَبْتَعِدُ،
كَانَتْ خُطُواتِي خَفِيَفَةً كَهَمْسِ الرِّيَاح.
الفَجْرُ فَوْقَ النَّهْرِ يُزْهِرُ بِاللَّوْنِ القَانِي،
وَالنَّسِيمُ يُقَبِّلُ الأَمْوَاجَ وَيَعُدُّهَا.
نَظَرْتُ إِلَى الرَّمْلِ وَالنَّهْرِ وَأَنَا أَحْمِلُ
فِي دَاخِلِي تِلْكَ الدَّمْعَةَ البَعِيدَة.
عَلِمْتُ يَا نَهْرُ أَنَّكَ سَتَنْتَظِرُنِي،
عِنْدَمَا تَذْبُلُ الوُرُودُ وَيَتَلاَشَى الشَّبَاب.
القَدَرُ المُرُّ يَدْعُونِي إِلَى الرَّحِيلِ،
وَإِلَى الغُرْبَةِ أَحْمِلُ كُلَّ أَحْلاَمِي التِي لَمْ تَتَحَقَّق.
مِنْ نَبْعِكَ الصَّافِي شَرِبْتُ المَاءَ،
وَفِي قَلْبِي خَبَّأْتُ خَرِيرَ أَمْوَاجِك.
وَحَتَّى عِنْدَمَا يَسُودُ السَّلاَمُ فَوْقَنَا،
سَأَبْقَى طِفْلَكَ وَأَمَلَكَ الخَالِد.
يَا مَوْصِلِي، تَحْتَ وِشَاحِ المَطَرِ،
لاَ شَيْءَ يُسْكِرُنِي بَعْدَك.
انْتَظِرْنِي يَا دِجْلَةُ بَعْدَ السَّفَرِ الطَّوِيلِ،
فَمَاؤُكَ هُوَ الشِّفَاءُ الوَحِيدُ لِقَلْبِي.
Rains of Mosul
By Biljana Petković
On the day of my departure, the rain was falling,
the Tigris embraced me like a mother’s silk.
From the beloved shore, as I walked away,
my step was soft as the whisper of the winds.
Dawn above the river bloomed in crimson light,
the breeze kissed the water, counting every wave.
I looked into the sand and the river, carrying
a distant tear deep within my soul.
I knew, dear river, you would wait for me,
when the roses fade and youth withers away.
A bitter fate calls me onto the road,
and into foreign lands I carry all my unfulfilled dreams.
From your clear spring I have drunk the water,
hiding the murmur of your waves in my heart.
And even when peace softly reigns over us,
I shall remain your child, your everlasting hope.
O my Mosul, beneath the veil of rain,
no other sweetness can enchant me more.
Wait for me, Tigris, upon my long journey home,
for your water is the only healing for my heart.
Biljana Petković is a Serbian poet and author. She has published a poetry collection titled “Kamen i voda” (“Stone and Water”) and is currently preparing her second poetry collection, “Drumovi sanjaju Moravu” (“Roads Dream of the Morava”), alongside her debut novel “Cena slobode” (“The Price of Freedom”). Her poetry is written in open, free verse, focusing on deep emotional reflection, love, memory, and nature. Her work has been published in international digital cultural journals, connecting European and Arab literary traditions.
