of wheat is threshing-floors of plenty... and the hands that tend it are faithful and free-flowing..! It believes in the interplay of thought and in thought as a common possession, and so it turns to its leaders, questioning them on the issues of our life, each in the subject of his specialty: Fouad Sarruf, Salim Haidar, Anis al-Khoury al-Makdisi, Muhammad al-Naqqash, Philip Hitti, Muhyi al-Din al-Nsouli, Ishaq Musa al-Husseini.
Yes, gentlemen! What say you of woman's rights? Of the fate of the rising generation.. of the press.. of education? Of poetry?!
And poetry, in The Woman's Voice, has gardens of lilies and roses. Michel Trad — a primitive baking-oven glows in his great soul, and he cries out: no house without poetry has ever lived! And before a woman thinks of an elegant table to dine at, she must think of a volume of verse. And we listen.. God, how splendid is what we hear — it is woman.. Said Akl, Nazik al-Malaika, Fadwa Tuqan, Fouad Suleiman — and she who wrote poetry in prose, the departed woman of letters Salma Sayegh, who tended the grain of wheat in The Woman's Voice for a stretch of time, and for whom the grain of wheat kept faith... for in her memory a special issue appeared, in which the great writers wrote...
On a summer day of cruel heat there blew a green, dew-wet breeze, announcing the launching of feminine verse into the horizons of love-song. On that day "Aphrodite" was born — a sweet word that steals deep into hearts — and she went on growing and growing sweeter, issue after issue; and The Woman's Voice, the mother, went on bending tenderly over her sweet word, holding it close between her covers, as jealous of it as of its brothers and sisters among the people of letters: Julia Tu'mah Dimashqiyah, Asma Tubi, Anbara
Salam Khalidi, Salma al-Haffar al-Kuzbari, Tawfiq Sayigh, In'am al-Saghir, Samira Azzam.. Jihan Gazawi Aony, Emily Fares Ibrahim, Salwa M. Moumni, and many names shining in the world of letters which I pass over for suspense's sake..!
And after all this, I know not
how I have turned my eyes across ten years of a past I have crossed — I whose age means what is hoped for.. which I measure by what I love to do, not by what I have done! And I would love to keep company with The Woman's Voice for another ten years, which I begin counting for her from this moment.
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