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"But your voice, dear bird, reaches me and snatches me from this deep silence. I jump up, terrified, and he jumps up, terrified, and then we are soon safe and calm again. As for me, two hot tears run down my cheeks, and as for him, he says, leaning on the table with his hands, "The call of the nightingale! Do you see how he used to make this echoing sound when Hanadi was struck down in that wide space!!" The echoes of the nightingale's voice still reverberate on Taha Hussein's pages despite the distance of time. His nightingale, through which he wrote this human story expressing the state of Egyptian society at that time, his nightingale, was a symbol of a woman who resounds with her sorrows across the horizon, with no one to answer but silence, echoing, and silence.
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