About the novel.....
Rashid is a twenty-year-old young man, an orphan of parents. He grows up in the care of his aunt in Dubai. After his aunt’s death, he decides to return to his father’s house in a village in Fujairah. He brings workers to restore the old house and gets to know his neighbors in the village, and the father, Abdullah, and his granddaughter, Maryam.
Voices and ghosts begin to appear from the wall of the house, and each of them tells a story related to Rashid’s parents. The ghosts continue to appear and tell their stories, and Rashid becomes immersed in these stories, until the whole truth comes together about the death of his parents, the fire on his father’s farm, and the location of the treasure that was stolen, and the novel ends with his discovery. For the location of the treasure that Maryam’s father recovered and hid in a safe place until he found it, Rashid also searches for the real Maryam and marries her.
كتاب " فاتتني صلاة " من تأليف الكاتب " اسلام جمال " كتاب موجه خاصة لمن لا يصلون و يتهاونون على الصلاة في هذا الكتاب سوف تجد أحسن الطرق للمواظبة عليها لأننا نعلم بأن الصلاة هي السبيل للسعادة و الطمأنينة.. نبذة عن الكتاب : في الصغر إعتدنا أن يأمرنا من يكبرنا بالصلاة .. فنمتثل للأمر ثم ن....
Where poetry is water, a cloud of perfume and rain, circling around the playing fields and the hum of things, only the poem is, when the poet’s soul is present, and his eternal, shortened yearning is present at the dock of wishes and the nooks of words. The moment of poetry is the poet’s feeling and pulse, his dream, and his vast, generous imaginations, a moment. The growing love, spreading the light within us, as if quenching a thirst.
Poetry is imagination, and perhaps a supplication creeps from behind words to make a supplication and weave a story. True poetry is us with all the beauty we carry and the feelings we harbor. It is something that flows like magic, making the moon rise.
The poem is some words that express us, and they may not express us, they leave us with pain and fatigue, as if the alphabet in its hidden secret refuses to be us/us, to become strangers to us. Here is an attempt to translate the self, and another attempt to express the other in some way, which may make him one of those whom the words here draw. .
In this literary work, I, you, and them, let us read with love, color the sky with joy, and follow the words.
