Paroles et traduction Ahlam - Daftar Wa Memhah

Daftar Wa Memhah

خواطر دفتر وممحاه
أدون ما مضى وأمحي
على رف المشاعر ما
بقت لي غير أقلامي

خواطر دفتر وممحاه
أدون ما مضى وأمحي
على رف المشاعر ما
بقت لي غير أقلامي

أرتب بعض أفكاري
ما بين أحزاني وفرحي
وتترامى بعض ذكراك
ولا أدري ليه قدامي

أرتب بعض أفكاري
ما بين أحزاني وفرحي
وتترامى بعض ذكراك
ولا أدري ليه قدامي

مع إني ما أفكر فيك
ألاقي اسمك بطرحي إيه
سكنت أبياتي ما كفاك
تربع عرش أحلامي

مع إني ما أفكر فيك
ألاقي اسمك بطرحي إيه
سكنت أبياتي ما كفاك
تربع عرش أحلامي

أنا وش في يدي قلي؟
سوى يا مفارقي جرحي
أنا وش في يدي قلي؟
سوى يا مفارقي جرحي
وكن حبك زرعه الله
حبيبي داخل عظامي

آه، آه، آه

تضيق أحوالي لك الجأ
الاقي بقبلتك شرحي
تجبر هالزمن وأحرم
عيوني تكون قدامي
عسى ما ينتهي عمري
وأنا متوسدٍ جرحي
يحاصرني ألم ذكرى
سكنها حزن مترامي

تضيق أحوالي لك الجأ
الاقي بقبلتك شرحي
تجبر هالزمن وأحرم
عيوني تكون قدامي
عسى ما ينتهي عمري
وأنا متوسدٍ جرحي
يحاصرني ألم ذكرى
سكنها حزن مترامي

ربحت أو بالأصح حسيت
ربحتك وإنتهى ربحي
قبل لا أرتوي وصلك (وصلك)
رجعت اللاهث الظامي

ربحت أو بالأصح حسيت
ربحتك وإنتهى ربحي
قبل لا أرتوي وصلك
رجعت اللاهث الظامي

أنا وش في يدي قلي؟
سوى يا مفارقي جرحي
أنا وش في يدي قلي؟
سوى يا مفارقي جرحي
وكأن حبك زرعه الله
حبيبي داخل عظامي

خواطر دفتر وممحاه
أدون ما مضى وأمحي
على رف المشاعر ما
بقت لي غير أقلامي

خواطر دفتر وممحاه
أدون ما مضى وأمحي
على رف المشاعر ما (على رف المشاعر ما)
بقت لي غير أقلامي

خواطر دفتر وممحاه
أدون ما مضى وأمحي
على رف المشاعر ما
بقت لي غير أقلامي

Notebook and Eraser Memories

Memories of a notebook and an eraser
I write what has passed and I erase
On the shelf of feelings what
I have left are only my pens

Memories of a notebook and an eraser
I write what has passed and I erase
On the shelf of feelings what
I have left are only my pens

I sort out some of my thoughts
Between my sorrows and my joys
And some of your memory comes creeping up
And I don't know why it's before me

I sort out some of my thoughts
Between my sorrows and my joys
And some of your memory comes creeping up
And I don't know why it's before me

Even though I don't think of you
I find your name when I subtract something
You've taken up residence in my verses, isn't that enough?
You've taken your place on the throne of my dreams

Even though I don't think of you
I find your name when I subtract something
You've taken up residence in my verses, isn't that enough?
You've taken your place on the throne of my dreams

What is in my hand, tell me?
Only the wound that you, my lost one, left me
What is in my hand, tell me?
Only the wound that you, my lost one, left me
And as if your love was planted by Allah
My love, inside my bones

Ah, ah, ah

When my circumstances become difficult, I turn to you
I find in your kisses an explanation for my life
You make this time bearable and I forbid
My eyes to be in front of me
May my life not end
And I am propped up on my wound
The pain of memory besieges me
Inhabited by a spreading sadness

When my circumstances become difficult, I turn to you
I find in your kisses an explanation for my life
You make this time bearable and I forbid
My eyes to be in front of me
May my life not end
And I am propped up on my wound
The pain of memory besieges me
Inhabited by a spreading sadness

I won, or rather I felt like I won
I won you and that's the end of my winnings
Before I could quench my thirst for you (quench my thirst for you)
I became the panting, thirsty one again

I won, or rather I felt like I won
I won you and that's the end of my winnings
Before I could quench my thirst for you
I became the panting, thirsty one again

What is in my hand, tell me?
Only the wound that you, my lost one, left me
What is in my hand, tell me?
Only the wound that you, my lost one, left me
And it's as if your love was planted by Allah
My love, inside my bones

Memories of a notebook and an eraser
I write what has passed and I erase
On the shelf of feelings what
I have left are only my pens

Memories of a notebook and an eraser
I write what has passed and I erase
On the shelf of feelings what (on the shelf of feelings what)
I have left are only my pens

Memories of a notebook and an eraser
I write what has passed and I erase
On the shelf of feelings what
I have left are only my pens