Singer in the Shadows
Ala dalouna, ala dalouna…
Dalouna, dalouna, dalouna, clapping, trilling and dalouna
The oud player was enraptured by his song and his drink, which made him hang his head down over his oud as the pick between his fingers struck the strings. The strings struck back with a hum that rose and fell among the singers’ voices.
The hands clapped and clapped, Ala dalouna, and the north wind –
The sun’s rays danced about on the olive trees.
Dusty green trees stood one after the other on the terraces of the mountain sloping down to the road. Perhaps the selfsame olive trees were planted by saints in olden times, for those gnarled, twisted trunks with all their cracked gray bark are the sisters of time and of days long past. When Selloum thought about them, he felt a delight
