Ashraf AboArafe
Clouds above the horizon blaze with light,
their silver flashes pierce the velvet night.
Thunder resounds with songs of deep desire,
a trembling hymn, a hidden, holy fire.
The rains descend, soft blessings from the sky,
and branches bloom, their colors multiply.
The Nile flows on, a generous embrace,
reviving seeds, restoring hope’s lost place.
From Oman’s land, the Barhi dates arrive,
and mulberries join, keeping love alive.
The Nile receives them, sweet with honeyed streams,
their taste ascends like fragrance born of dreams.
The date—delight that strengthens blood and bone,
a healer’s gift, its virtues widely known.
It soothes the weary, calms the troubled mind,
a food of light, both gentle and refined.
So Egypt’s river and Oman’s pure sand,
forever join as heart to faithful hand.
Their bond endures, like waters never still,
two nations linked by love, by fate, by will.
