Ramadan 1st, 1441

I lay on my bed, listening to the most emotional among Imam al-Ossi's Quranic recitations and trying hard to persuade myself that there are things greater, more crucial than local histories of Middle Europe.
The comparison between the current situation in Poland and 1947 elections reappears in various comments and opinion articles. The only difference is that now we have no geopolitical excuse. 
Will it actually happen? The state of exception, Poland leaving the European Union, years, perhaps decades of impoverished, confined life? In many comments, I notice an undertone of resignation, and the use of futurum perfectum, the grammatical tense of the Ineluctable. 
Confronted with the Ineluctable, I close my eyes and dream of white Arabian horses, of mahogany bookshelves full of Brill editions of Arabian poetry, and yes, why not, also that Persian poetry speaking of exiles, from the 9th century on. And on. And on. 
I suppose my situation is better than most people in my old country. Because I'm here, with this marble pavement of Lisbon under my feet, in the first place. Because I still have some money on my account. Because I speak languages of Europe so fluently. Because I have homelands beyond homeland. Multiple belongings, roots, memories, legacies. It is nearly impossible to strip me bare, leave with nowhere to go. 

                                  أيـن الملوك ذَوو التيجان من يمنٍ      وأيـن  مـنهم أكـاليلٌ وتيجانُ ؟
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                                  وأيـن مـا شـاده شـدَّادُ في إرمٍ      وأين ما ساسه في الفرس ساسانُ ؟   

I had lost my kingdom and my homeland long before the fall of Seville. Surely the demise of Poland does me no harm. It will leave no ruins more dismal than those of the Sassanian Fars or of those buildings that Shaddad raised in Iram. For the misfortunes of an epoch are of many different kinds, and History has joys and sorrows. 

                                    فـجائعُ  الـدهر أنـواعٌ مُـنوَّعة      ولـلـزمان  مـسرّاتٌ وأحـزانُ

.لـكل شـيءٍ إذا مـا تـم نقصانُ - And perhaps the only reason of my lament on the fall of Warsaw is that we decline without having reached perfection...