From Syria, with love – Hiba Trefi

Letters the Editor


They were sitting next to each other drinking coffee at one of the Cafes they found by chance.
They were total strangers.
They shared nothing but coffee and a dream.
Each one of them was building a new dream with each sip of coffee, Dreams that would sweeten the bitter taste of coffee, the bitterness of their lives.
The first one was thinking, ” when this war is over I want to get a job, to sing every morning a song, have children to whom all my love I would give
The second was thinking, “When this war is over, I want to travel, maybe find a wife and have a daughter for whom I will buy all the beautiful things that I find “.
With each sip of coffee, dreams were becoming more and more real. Their faces, challenging the bitter taste, the black color started to turn red, glowing with hope, Coffee was turning into wine.
Without knowing why, they smiled at each other and hugged,
The clock of war suddenly struck.
The first man was summoned to fight the enemy he had been sitting next to, all this time.
The second one was summoned to react…
They frowned at each other and the last sound each one of them heard was a bullet, and both were lying on the ground…dead!
Dreams vanished.
Hatred Prevailed
And coffee was bitter again…


With Love

Hiba Trefi


  1. adfar shah /

    Some bitter golden lines par excellence….beautifully articulated…

  2. thanks a lot , I am happy to be able to share this feeling with people all over the world
    That is me , Hiba , the writer to this short piece of writing

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