الغربة [Al Ghorba] [English translation]

A simple young man, dreaming of becoming something

from a slum, where there are loads of people in need

A long time ago, before we've known discrimination and racism

A long time ago, before people were torn apart by segregating them into classes

I'm not going to compare between our current times and how it was back in his days

Now, one's value is his money and not his respect

The boy traveled outside the country to secure his future

and he feared God in what he did, and he made well for himself

two years passed and he married the most beautiful girl his eyes have ever seen

From the first time he saw her, he prayed for her to be his

and they started a small house, brick by brick, one by one

she was his backbone in the cold of foreignness and loneliness

and swiftly, they were gifted 1 with the prettiest girl

and three brothers followed

the house grew and became warm, and the foreign forgot about his foreignness

his home became their arms and his happiness was being with them

his mistake was, he forgot that happiness doen't last

sickness knew their way, it started visiting them every day

death chose to take his eldest son

it is never late, it comes sharp on time 2

and after they barely bounced back from the shock they were in

and death took away the youngest in its following visit

and war erupted in the Gulf in 99'

we came back to live in foreignness

foreignness doesn't end

we were born in it, and we shall live in it

between being a foreigner in my own country

and many other countries that I am not related to

a new beginning in a town where no one lived

they called it Nasr, a wide desert and a few houses

he tried and fought, tried to find something but there was no chance

he said to himself, in all honesty: I have no place in my own country

he resolved to foreignness again, and left his lover to the children

every Saturday, it was a long phone call on time

assuring them, telling them how much he's missed them

and his children reply that they really want to see him

foreignness is never a choice when there are no options

separation does not get shorter, it always gets longer

and we think that the gifts will make it up to our loved ones

who said that gifts can replace the absentee?

one time the letter has a photo and the other has a tape of a story

all this is not enough, they still miss you

and life is flying by, just like the running of his beloved son

after a taxi that's going to the airport, just like the one before

he used to cry every time his father goes away

and when his father is back, he sleeps in his arms, yes I do remember

I remember every word, every detail and every second

because this is the story of my father, not any other story

it's similar to the stories of many other foreigners

the ones who moved away months ago and the ones who immigrated years ago

and the story doesn't end, for foreignness runs in our blood

a generation hands down to the following, and surely we are going to hand it to the ones who come after us

foreignness doesn't end

we were born in it, and we shall live in it

between being a foreigner in my own country

and many other countries that I am not related to

before us and among us were many people who dreamed

of a vast, green land

and unmatched prosperity

and when they woke up, they found that all the land is barren

they opened their eyes in the darkness, the darkness of the minds

ones who break down the rocks and ones who decided to take the short way

the ones who took the short way moved away and eventually made something

in the end, this is a letter filled with appreciation for my father

he slaved his life away so I can say I have this and I have that

1. by God2. death

• Artist:Zap Tharwat
• Album:Al Madina | المدينه