عربي 
EN 
By: Dr. Adnan Bouzan
The night and I have been companions for a long time. Whenever evening falls, we sit together, conversing in a silence that only we can hear, discussing ancient sorrows that have not faded despite the passing years. The night alone knows my secret—it knows how much pain I have carried, unable to confide in anyone. It knows how memories haunt me every time the sun sets, weighing down my soul and igniting within me a fire that never extinguishes.
I ask it in a hushed voice, “How much longer, O night? How much longer will I remain a prisoner of the past, searching through its alleyways for faces that are no longer here, for voices that have faded with time?” But it does not answer. It only drapes its black cloak over my head, as if embracing me, as if telling me that it is here and that it is the only one that will never leave me, no matter how long the nights stretch.
How many times have I told it about a dream I once longed for, only to lose it amid the chaos of life? How many times have I spoken of a meeting that never came to be, of a love that bloomed like a flower in the wrong season, wilting before the rain could grant it a chance at life? The night understands me. It knows that despite the strength I appear to have, I am merely a fragile heart, wavering between memory and longing.
The night reflects my true face—no masks, no pretense. Just me, with all my sorrow, all my regret, and all the words I never dared to say to anyone. Sometimes, I feel that it is my mirror, showing me myself as I truly am, without deceit or illusion, making me realize that I am more wounded than I thought, more alone than I had expected.
I am weary, O night—weary of these endless conversations, of this memory that refuses to stop summoning absent faces, of this heart that has yet to learn how to forget. Do you still believe that dawn will bring salvation? Do you still believe that light has the power to heal wounds?
Yet despite your harshness, your painful silence, and the weight of your presence, you remain the most faithful companion, the only refuge that can bear all these confessions, all this brokenness. So, stay with me, O night, even if you grow tired of my words, even if your silence wounds me more than it comforts me.
Me and the night… an endless story, an ongoing dialogue between a restless heart and an ageless darkness.