many things were beautiful.
beautiful, was the rain clouds.
the looming, navy puffs, that shadowed everything in sight.

beautiful, was a birthday dress, from your dad.
one complete with frills, and sequins, and vibrancy.
the love, the caresses, the joy behind it.

beautiful, was a peacock's feathers.
those, that they held in pride, flashing whenever they could.

beautiful, was the moment you described,
when the tension got too much to handle.

many things were beautiful.
but, i reckon that the most beautiful thing to be
seen, was your smile.
the fierce excitement, in your eyes, could
be more concise, than any dark blue floodgate for rain.

it could be prettier than a pink, fluffy dress, from your old man.
your smile, could be more enchanting, than the orange on a peacock.

it could be more emotional, than that one intense moment.
you see, many, many, many things could be described as beautiful.
but, your quirk of those pink, happiness-inclined lips, could change
the meaning of 'beauty', forever.

كاس واحد و ألحان عربية
و خصري عم بميل يمين و شمال
و فستاني عم بيِعْلى عن فخذي
و شعري القصير عم بجرّب يطال كتافي
و إيدايي متل الموج بالصيف، بياخدوك و بجيبوك ع رواق
و ما شفتك غير واقف قدّامي
عيونك ضايعين ب خَصري
و بَسمتَك ضايعة بين فخاذي
و ما قدرت ما قرّب رَقْصك
و التَفِّت إيدي حول رَقبتَك
و تْمَلَّك جسمي جسمك
و الموسيقى الشرقية بلَّشِت تختفي
بس أنا خصري بقي يهزّ على خصرك
و فستاني بقي يِعْلَى عن فخاذي و عَلَّق بين فخاذنا
و شعري القصير خبّى وجوهنا
و إيدايي صارو متل العِرْبَيْشِة, لافّين حوالي عكّاز و ما ب فَلْتو


One drink, and oriental beats
And my hips are swaying to the right then to the left
And my dress is uncovering my thighs
And my short hair is trying to touch my shoulders
And my arms are like summer waves - they sway you softly
And all of a sudden I see you standing there
Your eyes lost in my hips
And your smile lost in between my thighs
And I couldn't not take your hand and dance with you
And my arms got locked around your neck
And my body owned your body
And the oriental beat started to degenerate
But my hips kept swaying on your hips
And my dress kept uncovering my thighs, getting stuck in between our thighs
And my short hair hid our faces
And my arms became like an espalier tree - wrapped around a pole and wouldn't let it go



لين اا -
- LynnAA

حاملة كاس نبيد أحمر ب إيدا و عيونو عم بتعِدّ خرزات ظهرها المكشوف
و شعرها مرفوع كعكة و رَقبِتها عم ب عيّطلو يجي يهجر شفافو على ريحة عطرها


She is holding a glass of red wine and his eyes are counting every vertebra of her exposed back
And her hair is pinned up in a bun in a way that her neck was calling for him to desert his lips on the scent of her perfume



لين اا -
- LynnAA

i am the Ripped Wallpaper.
i am the Dusty Boxes in the attic.
i am the Toys thrown carelessly into the back of the closet.

I am Irrelevant.

i am the Holiday Decorations,
taken out only when needed.
i am the horribly Ugly Dress,
worn only when your mother makes you.
i am the Book that you Hate
but are forced to read for a grade.

i am only Relevant when you Choose.

but ripped wallpaper can be Fixed,
dust can be Swept Off
and toys can be Rediscovered.