Chopin In Lattakia Poem by Mohammad Yousef

In the fading light of a Levantine dusk,
where the Mediterranean whispers secrets to the shore,
the air thickens with salt and nostalgia,
and the echoes of a piano weave through the olive groves.

Frederic, lost in the amber hues of twilight,
his fingers dance upon keys,
each note a ripple in the warm evening breeze,
each chord a story spun from the threads of time.

Lattakia stands, a guardian of ancient tales,
its cobblestones, worn by footsteps of wanderers,
carry the weight of history,
as Chopin's melodies rise like incense,
filling the alleyways with haunting reverie.

The sea, a vast canvas of blues and greens,
reflects the turmoil of his soul,
as waves crash like the heartbeats of lovers,
and the moon, a silver witness,
paints the horizon with dreams unfulfilled.

In a modest café, the clinking of cups
mingles with whispers of the past,
where the scent of cardamom and jasmine
entangles with the bittersweet strains of Nocturne,
the world outside, a distant echo.

Here, amid the laughter and the sorrow,
the spirit of Chopin finds solace,
each note a balm for the weary heart,
each crescendo a cry for freedom,
in a land where the stars seem to listen,
and the shadows dance to the rhythm of the night.

The palm trees sway,
a gentle applause for the maestro's grace,
as the fragrance of citrus blossoms
wraps around him like a lover's embrace,
reminding him that beauty can flourish
even in the midst of chaos.

In this tranquil corner of the world,
he finds the pulse of life,
the laughter of children echoing
through the narrow streets,
the stories of fishermen casting nets,
the lovers who share stolen moments
beneath the watchful gaze of the ancients.

Oh, how the music flows!
It mingles with the cries of seagulls,
the laughter of the tide,
and for a moment, time stands still,
as Chopin's heart beats in sync
with the rhythm of Lattakia.

Each sonata a bridge,
connecting the past to the present,
the known to the unknown,
in a symphony of existence,
reminding the world that even in exile,
one can find a home in harmony,
a sanctuary in sound.

And as the final notes linger,
like the last breath of a sunset,
Frederic smiles,
knowing that somewhere,
in the symphony of life,
his spirit will forever dance,
a waltz through the olive trees,
a serenade on the shores of Lattakia.