The repercussions of despair and hope in the literature of Professor Hassan Taha Al -Adgham

Written- d. Al-Tayyib Al-Nakka- These thoughts and reflections are “believed” that it was issued by Aziz, accompanied by him, and his compassion, and shared with him, in an ancient school that took itself as the focus of the history of that city from which both of us descended, an educational institution that we still fill in great delicacy, and we admire it with an unimaginable admiration, because it made Arabic literature facilitating, descending, appropriate to our minds, and we are at that age. Taha Al -Adgham, which is available, is available, tastes, and its perception is also available, and the surrounding of its contents of its difference and the spacing of its goals, does not cost us effort.

Not that in the sounding of its depths, it does not need us to spend more hours of the night, and most of the hours of the day, until we reap its fruits, and we are accounted for by its public, because it is clear, clear, unambiguous or ambiguity, and because it is easy, easy to make it and does not cost it, so its owner who did not imitate in the past or new, as he did not submit to its form for the luster of the language, and costs the strangers, as the writer does, as well as the writer Othman, famous for “Shalu” between his family and his peers, whoever reads to him, will find in his literature this trait, the characteristic of honesty that demonstrates that the line of these letters was not singing from behind the monitoring of his feelings, to depart from it about the reality of his miserable life, or take it to a tool for entertainment and recreation, no, he was good, he warned and signed it, between improving care or describing what he does not like And that his connection with her was interrupted, for the sake of that he urged her to blame him, and return to him, until she understands the minutes of himself, and realizes the details of his life that he does not admire, and does not accept it, neither in his travel, nor in his place.

So Al -Adham, he brought us a literature that prompted him to write the sense, emotion, and longing for a hlar that he wants to rush to, and settles in her bosom, and the woman who has become fixed in the taste of its owner and represented in his mind, and in his feelings, perhaps the greatest of the fullest, and the heaviest responsibility, to demand those who spend his whole life, or most of it is strange, away from his family and children His sorrow and longing that he cannot refrain from, or raise himself from his authority, so that he is normal for the sacrifice to ignite his heart, and to inflame his sense of his sense.

Let us, gentlemen, stand a few or long pause, at the “Bouh of the Night”, the night and the magic of the night, and what you know is what the night is lost. Snacks are cut off, and in the truth we are the miserable people, we claim that the night has not fulfilled a vow we have vowed to us before, which is that he does not realize his firmness and determination, so we are forced to cry that extends and extends, crying that does not go away from our argument for his command, is undoubtedly or a doubt in that sad, sad patch, which was written by Hanaya Al -Adham says in it, in its patch in which the sorrow was erected, the banner of a whisk:

“Bouh_ Alle”

When the night falls, the city lives and the voices are afraid, but here is another voice that hesitates in the depths of the heart, whispers that no one hears, and dreams whispering to the stars with what the day was unable to contain.

The night is darkness that extends on the horizon, but it is a companion for those who have been burdened by life, a haven for those who lost their footsteps between the intersection of hope and despair.

It is the only space that does not betray feelings, as pains are exposed in silence, and the revelation of lives as you could not say between the noise of the day.

Life, is it not for you to calm down a little?

The years have passed, and I took with it more than they were given, we swwled between disappointments and waiting, between the dream that fades and the reality that does not care about our pain.

We are no longer as we were, as you stole some of our pH, and our souls exhausted until they became tired and unable to run behind hope.

Our smiles were afraid, and joy has become far away, as if it was a mirage that we are trying to make it up, so we do not find it.

Sadness has become inhabited by our depths without permission, and our looks tell stories that are not said, and our voices carry a tremor that only those who approached are understood enough to read what is beyond the words.

We pretend by force, we repeat words that preserve our pride in front of others: “I am fine”, while the truth is completely opposite.

We hide pain under the guise of silence and wrap it with the pride of the same reflection, but who understands?

_ Sincerely when it becomes a barrier that prevents us from revealing, and crushing a reality without containment, it makes us conceal pain even when revelation is the only way out.

_ Some aches are not written, but they appear in the spark of the area, in the shine that crosses the sound when its owner tries to look strong, but it remains, stuck between the heart and memory, weighing days and making it more severe.

Despite everything, hope remains present, fragile but exist, weak but it is not completely extinguished.

Perhaps a day comes when reality embraces our dreams instead of crushing them, and we may find the warmth that makes life less cruel, and more mercy than we have entrusted.

The conclusion of the disclosure

At the end of the night, the heart remains despite everything adhering to a bit of hope, even if it is fragile, even if it is far away .. The days may take a lot from us, but it cannot extinguish the small light that inhabits our depths, the belief that tomorrow may carry something different, warmer, less cruel.

Perhaps the night was a witness to our pain, but he also whispered to us that dawn is close, and that what appears to be a dark darkness, may be just a last page in a chapter that will end soon.

Let the night be a port of revelation, not a stable pain, and our hearts remain despite everything, sticking to the high thread that

It leads it towards a new light. ”End

Hassan Othman Al -Adgham, who is crowded with the worries, and his passion for her, does not submit to her, and does not display her, and he echoes that hesitates in the corpses of himself, Al -Adgum talks about the sadness that he pursued in his achievement and in depicting it, and the failure that we tell us in huge words, until the sauce of these voices reaches your hearing and sympathizes with him, and you feel about him with kindness and compassion, disappointment, disappointment, and disappointment, He remained inherent to the goodness of the faction of his mother, and perhaps this failure that has tamed the most of his patience, and sought to soften the diet of the permanent youth, was already long, remained, hard, and the most carried in many hardships, and many of the intransigence, was not a good to resort to the door to alleviate his severity, to the writing that afflicts its owner with subjugation and turmoil, if he made his day And the texts that express the exotic himself.

And the writer Hassan Al -Adham tells us about the history of himself, whose days are dissipated, and she is trapped in the corridors of pain, fear and hope.

It is represented in anger, holding tears, and clinging to hope.

And with the revelation of the night at the most dazzling, its nature is anomalies and contradiction, because it is seized with the hidden currents, which the heart does not affect the incursion between its folds and its thick journey, because it takes its effort and harm, and makes the voucher move and run between its flank People, at all night, are the tendency of the air that are common in the ribs, the air that forms the conscience to ruminate its sorrows, and it is lost in these aspects that it was supposed to abandon it intentionally, and leave it from belief, so the rather and the most worthy, to seek to conceal it and conquer it with all the ways it comes, until it lives a safe and safe from its virginity.

Al -Adgum, who began to find the rest of his breath, tells us in the last cake of the night, that hope is still contracting, that the darkness of his life that has no shape or strength, and then waving the good dawn, the morning, which is moving towards him with a steady foot, an open chest, and a raised head, to emancipate him from the dawn of despair, What makes himself that he relaxed and neglected, from the people of sufficiency and luxury, a feeling that dazzles him with his accomplished beauty, and his good ablution, and pushes him to collect the diaspora of his matter, and he will cross in this life in which his hope was passed without an end.