Dedicated to you Randah‏

To Oum Sammar, for Oum Sammar.

(I only wish I knew how to translate this passage in Arabic. Only in the Arabic language can one find the precise word to express what Alfred de Musset wrote so eloquently and poetically in the passage below. I tried to translate it roughly in English, but much of the beauty of the original words are being lost).
Yasmine Fahim

Quel que soit le souci que ta jeunesse endure,
Laisse-la s’elargir, cette sainte blessure
Que les noirs seraphins t’ont faite au fond du coeur;
Rien ne nous rend si grands qu’une grande douleur.
Mais pour en etre atteint, ne crois pas, o poete,
Que ta voix ici-bas doive rester muette,
Les plus desesperes sont les chants les plus beaux,
Et j’en sais d’immortels qui sont de purs sanglots.

Alfred de Musset

Translation:

Whatever the worry your youth has endured,
Let it grow, this holy wound
That the black seraphins have left in the depth of your heart;
Nothing makes us so grand as an immense pain,
But to be touched by it, don't think, o poet,
That your voice here on earth should remain quiet,
The most desperate are the most beautiful chants,
And I know a few that are pure sobs.