Ashraf AboArafe
Eight years, as though the clouds had rained their longing down,
And Egypt’s fertile soil brought kindred hearts to bloom.
O Wilmer, your leaving carries a sorrow deep,
That stirs the stones, the drifting winds, and every vision.
The stones wept for you before the eyes could shed a tear,
And trees bowed low, lamenting the ache of your departure.
The city walls themselves wept when they beheld
A noble heart adorned with honor and true chivalry.
And the great Nile’s caravan of waters sighed,
Whispering to you through the murmurs of the stream:
“Remember, my companion, what warmth you brought
Upon my banks, when you were friend, beloved, and home.”
In Maadi, where your house once stood,
The roses wept with longing, their petals heavy with tears.
Across Egypt, every corner overflowed with your presence,
And in Maadi’s embrace, you left behind passion and devotion.
You stood beside the peoples of the East,
A steadfast ally, and for Al-Aqsa, a voice of strength.
You never forgot the olive tree its rightful place and dignity,
Nor accepted that the sword should remain sheathed.
The people of Egypt loved you with a love made deep by time,
And counted you a voice of Arab identity, just and fair.
Arab in spirit, Egyptian at heart and soul,
You carried Egypt’s love as though it flowed within your blood.
We call your name, while souls themselves sing with longing,
And ask that you return one day, a visitor and wanderer once more.
Come back to us as a citizen, a friend, a lover,
And every home in Egypt will welcome you as its own.
Peace upon the one who kept his covenant with truth,
And upon the one who remained just in an age of hypocrisy.
And the Nile Bids Farewell:
Today you depart… and tomorrow, who will hear the birds sing?
For whom will the sun rise?
For whom will the moon emerge?
For whom will the gulls take flight?
For whom will the roses release their fragrance?
For whom will the rain fall?
