โ
The bridge will only take you halfway there, to those mysterious lands you long to see. Through gypsy camps and swirling Arab fair, and moonlit woods where unicorns run free. So come and walk awhile with me and share the twisting trails and wondrous worlds I've known. But this bridge will only take you halfway there. The last few steps you have to take alone.
โ
โ
Shel Silverstein
โ
ุนุงุฑู ูุงุฑุจ ..
ุงูุง ูุณูู ู
ูููุชุด ุนูู ูุฐุง ุณูุฑ
ุงูุง ูุณู ู
ูููุชุด ููุง ุญุงุฌู
ููุฅู ุงูุทูุจู ุณุงุนุงุช ุจุชุนูุฑ
ุจุทููุช ุฃููุฑ ุจุณุฐุงุฌู
ุจุทูุช ุฃุชุนูู ุงูู
ุงุดููู
ุฃู ุฃุญุจ ูุญุจูู ุจูู ุขุฏู
ูู
ุจุทูุช ุฃุนูุฒ ุฃุตูุง ุญุงุฌู !
โ
โ
ู
ุญู
ุฏ ุฅุจุฑุงููู
โ
ูู ุชุนูู
ุฃูู ุฃุญูุงูุง ..
ุจุชุญุณ ุจุฅูู ู
ุด ุญุงุณุณ ุ!
ููุฅูู ุฎุฏุช ูู ุฅุญุณุงุณู
100 ุญููุฉ ุจูุฌ ..
ูุถููุนู ุจููุง ุญุจุฉ ุฎูุฑุฏู
ูุชุดูู ุงูุฏููุง ุจุนูู ุจุงุฑุฏู
ููุชุญูู ููุจู ููู
ูุง ูุชูุฌ
ูุงููุงุณ ูุชุณุงููุง ูุตุงุฏ ุนููู
ูุชุดูู ุงููุงุฑู ู
ุด ูุงุฑู
ูุชุดูู ุงููู
ู ุจุชููู
ูุชุดูู ุงูุญูู ู
ููุด ููู
ู
ููุฅูู ูุงุนุฏ ูู ุงูุณูู
ุง ..
ูุญูุงุชู ูููู
ูุฏูู
ุดููุชู
ููุฐูู ุจูู ู
ุด ุจูุถุญู !
โ
โ
ู
ุญู
ุฏ ุฅุจุฑุงููู
โ
ุฃูููู
ูุฑุถู ุญูููู
ู ููู
ูุง ููู
ูุฑูุถู ุงูุญูุงููู
ูููุ ุฎูุฑููู ุฎุฑููู. ุฃูููููุฏู ุดูุนูุจู ุนูููู ู
ูููุตููููุ
ูุญูููู ููููุง ุฃูู ููู
ููุชู ูู
ูุง ููุดูุชูููู ุฃูู ููู
ููุชุ ููุชูุฎูุชูุจููุก ุงูุฃุฑุถู ูู ุณูููุจููููู
โ
โ
Mahmoud Darwish (ูุฑุฏ ุฃูู)
โ
ูุงููู ุงูุชู ูุงุนุฏูู ูู ุงูุณู
ุง ! ..
ุจูุงูููุง ูุชุฑู ู
ุฒูุฑุชูููุด ูู ุงูุญูู
ููู ุ!
ูุง ุฌุฏุชู : ุทุจ ุนุงู
ูู ุฅูู ุ!
ุฃุฎุจุงุฑู ุงูู ูู ุงูุฌูู ู
ู ุจุนุฏ ุงูู
ู
ุงุช
ุฏุงูุง ูุณู ูุงูุฑ ูู ูุงุนุฏู ูุนุฏุชูุง
ููุงูู ูุญูู ุจุงูุณุงุนุงุช
ู
ู ุจุนุฏ ู
ูุชู ุญุจู ููุดุงู
ูู ุฎุงูุต ..
ูู
ูู ุนุดุงู ุงูุดุงู ุฃุณุงุณุง
ุญูุงูุชู ูุงูุช ูู ุฅุฌุชู
ุงุนูุง
ู
ุจูุชุด ุฃุญุณ ูุฃูุถุชู ุงูู
ููููู
ู
ุนูู ..
ููุฑูุช ุญุชู ุงููููู ูู ุงูุดุจุงู
ุงูุง ุฑูุญุช ู
ุฑู ุจุนุฏ ู
ูุชู ุจุนุฏูุง
ู
ุจูุชุด ุนุงูุฒ ุฃุฑูุญ ููุงู
โ
โ
ู
ุญู
ุฏ ุฅุจุฑุงููู
โ
ูุญูุฏุงู ุญูู ุฃู
ุณู ููู ูุญุฏุชู ุฃูุณู
โ
โ
Khaled Ibrahim
โ
ููุฃููู ุฑุบู
ุงููุจูุฑ..
ูุฑุบู
ู
ูุช ุงูุฃุฑุถ
ุฃุฑูุถ ุฃู ุฃู
ูุช
โ
โ
ูุงุฑูู ุฌููุฏุฉ (ูุฃูู ุฃุญุจู)
โ
ุงูุญู
ุฏ ููู ุงููุฏูู
ุงูุจุงูู ุฐู ุงูุนุฑุด ูุงูุณููุจุน ุงูุนููุง ุงูุทุจุงู
ุงูู
ูููู ุงูู
ููุฑุฏู ุงูุฌุจููุงุฑ ุงูุฏุงุฆู
ุงูุฌูุงู ูุงูุฅูุจุงุฑ
ูุงุฑุซู ูููู ู
ุงููู ูู
ุง ู
ููููู ูู
ููููู ุงูุญููู ูู
ูุญูู ู
ูู ูููู
ู
ูุฒููู ุงูุฐูููุฑ ุจุฎูุฑ ุงูุฃูุณู ู
ุดุชู
ูุงู ุนูู ุงูุจูุงู ุงูุฃุญุณูู
โ
โ
ุฃุญู
ุฏ ุดููู (ุฏูู ุงูุนุฑุจ ูุนุธู
ุงุก ุงูุฅุณูุงู
)
โ
ุฃููุณุช ุงูููุณ ุชู
ูุชู ู
ูุฑูููู ูุฎุฐู ุนูููุง ุฃู ุชู
ูุชู ุญูููุฑูููู
โ
โ
ุฃุญู
ุฏ ุดููู (ุฏูู ุงูุนุฑุจ ูุนุธู
ุงุก ุงูุฅุณูุงู
)
โ
ูุง ู
ูุทูุงู ูู ุซุฑุงู ุบุงุจ ุณุงุฏุชู* ูููุงู ูุฎุฌู ู
ู ุจุงุนูู ู
ุง ุจุงุนูุง
โ
โ
ุฅุจุฑุงููู
ุทููุงู (ุงูุฃุนู
ุงู ุงูุดุนุฑูุฉ ุงููุงู
ูุฉ: ุฅุจุฑุงููู
ุทููุงู)
โ
:ูุฃูู
ูุฑูุชู ููุจู ุจุงูุชุฑููุซ:
ูููู ุญูุงุฏููุงู ูุฃููููู ููุณูุชู ู
ูู!
โ
โ
Mahmoud Darwish
โ
ุฅู ูููุจูู ูููุจูููุงุฏู ูุง ูุญุฒุจู ุฃู ุฒุนูู
ู
ูู
ุฃุจูุนููู ูุดููููู ุฃู ุตุฏููู ูู ุญู
ูู
ู
ููููุณ ู
ูููู ูู ุฃุฑุงู ู
ุฑููุฉู ุบููุฑู ุณูููู
ููุณุงูู ููููุคุงุฏู ููุทู ู
ูู ุจุงููุตูููู
ูููู
ูุบุฏู ููุดุจู ููู
ู ูุญุฏูุซู ููุฏูู
ูู
ููู
ุฃููุจู ุบูููุธู ูุฑูู
ูุง ููุง ููููุฏู ููุฆูููู
ุบุงูุชู ุฎุฏู
ุฉู ููู
ู ุจุดูุงุฆู ุฃู ูุนูู
ู
โ
โ
ุฅุจุฑุงููู
ุทููุงู
โ
ุฑูุนุฉ ุงูุญูุงุฉ ูู ุงูุนุดู
ู ูุนูุฉ ุงูุนุดู ุงูุฅุฏู
ุงู
ูุฅู ุบุงุจ ุฃุญุฏ ุงูุญุจูุจูู
ุชููู ููุจ ุงูุฃุฎุฑ ุนู ุงูุฎููุงู
ูู
ูู
ุง ุชุฑุงุณููุง ุฃู ุชุญุฏุซูุง
ูุงููุฑุจ ูุญุฏู ููู
ุง ุงูุฃู
ุงู
ูููุจุงู ูู ุงูุดุชุงุช ุชุชุฃูู
ู ุฃุดุฌุงู ุชุตูุจ ุจุงููุฐูุงู
ุญุฒู ู
ุณุชู
ุฑ ุจูุง ู
ุณููุงุช
ูุง ู
ูู ูุฑูุจ ุฃู ูุณูุงู
โ
โ
โุดุฑูู ุฅููุงู
ู
โ
ูุง ุฏูููู ููููุจุงุบูู ูุฅูู ุชูุฏูููููุง ููููู ุจูููุชููู ุงููููููุณ ุธูููู
ุงู ุจูููููุง
โ
โ
ุฃุญู
ุฏ ุดููู (ุฏูู ุงูุนุฑุจ ูุนุธู
ุงุก ุงูุฅุณูุงู
)
โ
ู
ุง ุฒููุง ููุง ุ ุญุชู ูู ุงููุตููู ุงูุฒู
ุงูู ุนู ุงูู
ูุงู
โ
โ
Mahmoud Darwish
โ
ุนุงููููู ูุง ุฃู
ู
ูุฃุญุดุงุฆู ู
ู
ุฒูุฉ ุจูุญุฏุชู
ูุจุฃุดูุงุก ุฃุฎุฑู
ุฃุฎุงู ุฃู ุฃููููุง
ูุฆูุง ุฃููุฏู.
โ
โ
ูุงุทู
ุฉ ุณูุทุงู ุงูู
ุฒุฑูุนู (ุจูุง ุนุฒุงุก)
โ
ูุนูู
ูุฑูููุ ู
ุง ุงูุฏูููุง ุจุฏุงุฑู ุจูููุงุกูุ ููููุงูู ุจุฏุงุฑู ุงูู
ูููุชู ุฏุงุฑู ููููุงุกู
ููุง ุชูุนุดููู ุงูุฏููููุงุ ุฃูุฎูููุ ูุฅููู
ุง ููุฑูู ุนุงุดููู ุงูุฏูููููุง ุจุฌูููุฏู ุจููุงูุกู
ุญููุงูููุชูููุง ู
ู
ุฒููุฌูุฉ ู ุจู
ุฑุงุฑุฉ ู ูุฑูุงุญุชูููุง ู
ู
ุฒูุฌูุฉ ู ุจูุนููุงุกู
ูููุง ุชูู
ุดู ููููู
ุงู ูู ุซููุงุจู ู
ูุฎูููุฉ ู ูุฅููููู ู
ู ุทููู ุฎููุชู ูู
ูุงุกู
ูููููู ุงู
ุฑูุคู ุชูููุงูู ููู ุดุงููุฑุงูุ ููููู ุงู
ุฑุคู ูุฑุถูู ููู ุจูุถูุงุกู
ูููููู ููุนูู
ูุงุกู ุนูููููุง ุนูุธูู
ูุฉ ูุ ููููู ุฅุญุณุงูู ููุถูู ุนุทุงุกู
ูู
ูุง ุงูุฏูุฑู ููู
ุงู ูุงุญุฏุงู ูู ุงุฎุชููุงููููู ูู
ูุง ููููู ุฃูุงู
ู ุงููุชู ุจุณูููุงุกู
ูู
ูุง ูููู ุฅูุงูู ููู
ู ุจุคุณู ูุดุฏุฉ ู ูููู
ู ุณูุฑูุฑู ู
ุฑููุฉ ู ูุฑุฎุงุกู
ูู
ุง ููู ู
ุง ูู
ุฃุฑูุฌู ุฃูุญุฑูู
ู ููููุนูููุ ูู
ุง ููู ู
ุง ุฃุฑูุฌููู ุฃููู ุฑูุฌุงุกู
ุฃููุง ุนุฌุจูุง ููุฏูุฑู ูุงู ุจููู ูุฑูุจููู ูุฎุฑููู
ู ุฑูููุจู ุงูุฏููููุฑู ููููู ุฅุฎูุงุกู
ูุดูุชูุชู ุฑููุจู ุงูุฏููุฑู ูููู ุฌูู
ุงุนูุฉ ู ูููุฏูุฑู ุฑููุจู ุงูุฏููุฑู ููููู ุตูููุงุกู
ุฅุฐุง ู
ุง ุฎููููู ุญููู ูู ุจูุฑูุฒูุฎู ุงูุจููู ุ ููุญูุณูุจูู ุจูู ูุฃููุงู ูุจูุนูุฏู ููููุงุกู
ุฃุฒููุฑู ูุจูุฑู ุงูู
ุชุฑูููู ูููุง ุฃุฑูู ุจููุงุกูุ ููุงููุงุ ููุจููุุฃูู ุจูุงุกู
ููููู ุฒูู
ุงูู ูุงุตููู ุจุตูุฑูู
ูุฉ ูุ ููููู ุฒูู
ุงูู ู
ููุทููู ุจุฌูููุงุกู
ูุนูุฒูู ุฏูุงุนู ุงูู
ูุชู ุนู ููููู ุญููุฉ ู ูููุนูููุง ุจุฏุงุกู ุงูู
ูููุชู ูููู ุฏููุงุกู
ูููุณู ุงูููุชูู ู
ุณุฑูุฑูุฉ ู ุจูู
ุงุฆูููุง ููููููุตู ุชููู
ูู ููููู ุฐุงุชู ูู
ูุงุกู
ููู
ู
ู ู
ููุฏููู ู
ุงุชู ูู
ููุฑู ุฃูููููู ุญูุจูููููุ ููุง ุฌุงุฏููุง ููู ุจููุฏุงุกู
ุฃู
ุงู
ูููุ ูุง ููููู
ุงููุ ุฏุงุฑู ุณูุนุงุฏูุฉ ู ููุฏูู
ู ุงูุจูููุง ูููุงุ ูุฏุงุฑู ุดููุงุกู
ุฎูููุชู ูุฅุญุฏู ุงูุบุงููุชูููุ ููุง ุชูู
ูุ ููููู ุจููู ุฎููู ู
ูููู
ูุง ูุฑูุฌูุงุกู
ููู ุงูููุงุณู ุดุฑูู ููู ุจูุฏุง ู
ุง ุชูุนุงุดูุฑููุง ูููููู ููุณูุงูู ุงูููู ุซูุจู ุบูุทูุงุกู
โ
โ
ุฃุจู ุงูุนุชุงููุฉ
โ
Ego Tripping
I was born in the congo
I walked to the fertile crescent and built
the sphinx
I designed a pyramid so tough that a star
that only glows every one hundred years falls
into the center giving divine perfect light
I am bad
I sat on the throne
drinking nectar with allah
I got hot and sent an ice age to europe
to cool my thirst
My oldest daughter is nefertiti
the tears from my birth pains
created the nile
I am a beautiful woman
I gazed on the forest and burned
out the sahara desert
with a packet of goat's meat
and a change of clothes
I crossed it in two hours
I am a gazelle so swift
so swift you can't catch me
For a birthday present when he was three
I gave my son hannibal an elephant
He gave me rome for mother's day
My strength flows ever on
My son noah built new/ark and
I stood proudly at the helm
as we sailed on a soft summer day
I turned myself into myself and was
jesus
men intone my loving name
All praises All praises
I am the one who would save
I sowed diamonds in my back yard
My bowels deliver uranium
the filings from my fingernails are
semi-precious jewels
On a trip north
I caught a cold and blew
My nose giving oil to the arab world
I am so hip even my errors are correct
I sailed west to reach east and had to round off
the earth as I went
The hair from my head thinned and gold was laid
across three continents
I am so perfect so divine so ethereal so surreal
I cannot be comprehended except by my permission
I mean...I...can fly
like a bird in the sky...
โ
โ
Nikki Giovanni
โ
The Day is Done
The day is done, and the darkness
Falls from the wings of Night,
As a feather is wafted downward
From an eagle in his flight.
I see the lights of the village
Gleam through the rain and the mist,
And a feeling of sadness comes o'er me
That my soul cannot resist:
A feeling of sadness and longing,
That is not akin to pain,
And resembles sorrow only
As the mist resembles the rain.
Come, read to me some poem,
Some simple and heartfelt lay,
That shall soothe this restless feeling,
And banish the thoughts of day.
Not from the grand old masters,
Not from the bards sublime,
Whose distant footsteps echo
Through the corridors of Time.
For, like strains of martial music,
Their mighty thoughts suggest
Life's endless toil and endeavor;
And to-night I long for rest.
Read from some humbler poet,
Whose songs gushed from his heart,
As showers from the clouds of summer,
Or tears from the eyelids start;
Who, through long days of labor,
And nights devoid of ease,
Still heard in his soul the music
Of wonderful melodies.
Such songs have power to quiet
The restless pulse of care,
And come like the benediction
That follows after prayer.
Then read from the treasured volume
The poem of thy choice,
And lend to the rhyme of the poet
The beauty of thy voice.
And the night shall be filled with music,
And the cares, that infest the day,
Shall fold their tents, like the Arabs,
And as silently steal away.
โ
โ
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (The Belfry of Bruges and Other Poems)
โ
This is my last letter
There will be no others.
This is the last grey cloud
That will rain on you,
After this, you will never again
Know the rain.
This is the last drop of wine in my cup
There will be no more drunkenness.
This is the last letter of madness,
The last letter of childhood.
After me you will no longer know
The purity of youth
The beauty of madness.
I have loved you
Like a child running from school
Hiding birds and poems
In his pockets.
With you I was a child of
Hallucinations,
Distractions,
Contradictions,
I was a child of poetry and nervous writing.
As for you,
You were a woman of Eastern ways
Waiting for her fate to appear
In the lines of the coffee cups.
How miserable you are, my lady,
After today
You won't be in the blue notebooks,
In the pages of the letters,
In the cry of the candles,
In the mailman's bag.
You won't be
Inside the children's sweets
In the colored kites.
You won't be in the pain of the letters
In the pain of the poems.
You have exiled yourself
From the gardens of my childhood
You are no longer poetry.
โ
โ
ูุฒุงุฑ ูุจุงูู (Arabian Love Poems: Full Arabic and English Texts)
โ
ุชูุธุงููุฑ ุจุงูุญูุจูู ุญูุชูู ููู
ูููููู ุงูุตูู
ูุฏ
Pretend to love, so you can survive
โ
โ
Khaled Ibrahim
โ
ุฅุฐุง ููุชู
ุนุจูุฏุงู ูู ุงูุฃุฑุถ ูููู ููู
: ุงุฒูุฏูุง ูู ุญุฑูุฉ ุงูุฃุฑุถุููู ุงูุณู
ุงุก ุชูุชุธุฑูู
ุญุฑูุฉ ูุงุชูุตู. ุงุฌูุจูู: ู
ู ูู
ูุชุฐูู ุงูุญุฑูุฉ ูู ุงูุฃุฑุถ ูู ูุนุฑู ุทุนู
ูุง ูู ุงูุณู
ุงุก
If you are slaves on Earth & you were told: โRenounce Earthly Freedom, for in Heaven awaits you unimaginalbe Freedom!โ Answer him: โHe who did not taste Freedom on Earth, will not know it in Heaven!
โ
โ
Mikhail Naimy (The Book of Mirdad: The strange story of a monastery which was once called The Ark)
โ
"Who Remembers the Armenians?"
I remember them
and I ride the nightmare bus with them
each night
and my coffee, this morning
I'm drinking it with them
You, murderer -
Who remembers you?
โ
โ
Najwan Darwish (Nothing More to Lose (NYRB Poets))
โ
ุฅู ุงูุตููุจู ู
ุง ุชูุบุฐูููู ุงุบุชุฐู ูุฃูุซุฑ ุนููู ูู ุงูู
ุซุงู ุงูู
ุญุชูุฐูู
โ
โ
ุฃุญู
ุฏ ุดููู (ุฏูู ุงูุนุฑุจ ูุนุธู
ุงุก ุงูุฅุณูุงู
)
โ
ุฃูุง ุนุงูููู ุจูููู ุญููุงุฉู ููู
ููุชู
Iโm stuck between life and death
โ
โ
Khaled Ibrahim
โ
ุงูู
ูุชู ุฏูู ุงูุนูุฏู ุบุงูุฉู ุงููุฑู
ู
โ
โ
ุฃุญู
ุฏ ุดููู (ุฏูู ุงูุนุฑุจ ูุนุธู
ุงุก ุงูุฅุณูุงู
)
โ
ููุฑ ุจู
ูุชู ูู ุฃุฑุถ ูุดุฃุช ุจูุง ... ูุงุชุฑู ููุจุฑู ุฃุฑุถุงู ุทูููุง ุจุงุนู
โ
โ
ุฅุจุฑุงููู
ุทููุงู (ุงูุฃุนู
ุงู ุงูุดุนุฑูุฉ ุงููุงู
ูุฉ: ุฅุจุฑุงููู
ุทููุงู)
โ
Through his eyes she was made of stardust.
โ
โ
Giovannie de Sadeleer
โ
ู ุจูููุบูุฉู ุงูุนุงุฑู ุนูุฏ ุงูุฌูุน ุชูููุธููุง ููุณู ููุง ุนู ูุจููู ุงูุนุงุฑ ุฑุฏููุงุนู
โ
โ
ุฅุจุฑุงููู
ุทููุงู (ุงูุฃุนู
ุงู ุงูุดุนุฑูุฉ ุงููุงู
ูุฉ: ุฅุจุฑุงููู
ุทููุงู)
โ
ุฅูู ุฃูู ุชุญุงู
ุชูู ุงูุนุดูุฑุฉ ูููุง ูุฃููุฑุฏุช ุฅูุฑุงุฏู ุงูุจุนูุฑู ุงูู
ูุนูุจููุฏู
โ
โ
ุทุฑูุฉ ุจู ุงูุนุจุฏ (ุฏููุงู ุทุฑูุฉ ุจู ุงูุนุจุฏ)
โ
ุญุจูุจุชู, ูุง ุชุฎุทุฆู
ููู ูุจูู ุฃุญุฏ ุณูุงูุง
ุฅุฐุง ู
ุง ุจูุช ุงูุณู
ุงุก
ุญุจูุจุชู, ูุง ุชุฎุทุฆู
ุฅู ุงูู
ุทุฑ ุจุนุถ ุจูุงูุง
ูุฅููู ุฑุฌู ุงูุดุชุงุก
ูุง ูุตุจุญ ุงููุงุณู
ูู ูุงุณู
ููุงู
ู
ุง ูู
ูู
ุฑ ุจูู ูุฏูุง
ูุฃูุง ุฃู
ูุญู ุงููุจุฑูุงุก
ุฃู ุฅู
ุฑุฃุฉ ุนุงุฏูุฉ
ุฅุฐุง ู
ุง ุฑุฃุช ุนูููุง
ุชุตุจุญ ุฃุฌู
ู ุงููุณุงุก
ูู ุงููุงุณู
ูู ูู
ูุช ุดุชุงุกู
ุฅูุง ูุงุณู
ููู ูุฅูู ูุง ูู
ุงุฑุณ ุงูุงูุญูุงุก
โ
โ
ุฒุงูู ุฑุณุชู
โ
ุฃุญุชุงุฌ ุฅูู ู
ุณุทุฑุฉ
ุฃุตู ุนูููุง ุฅูู ุงูุถูุฉ ุงูุฃุฎุฑู
ู
ู ูุงู
ุด ุงููุณูุงู
ุฑูุซู
ุง ูุชููู ุฌู
ุฑ ุงูููุช
ุจุฅุญุฑุงู ูุฐู ุงูุตูุญุฉ
โ
โ
ูุงุทู
ุฉ ุฅุญุณุงู ุงูููุงุชู
โ
How easy was it to just grab a handful of you before you dissolved? If someone asks you tell them loving you was the closest I came to seeing God.
โ
โ
Ayushee Ghoshal
โ
ุฑุบู
ู ุงูู ุงููุทุงุฑ
ูุง ูุณูุฑู ุงูุง ุงูู ูุงููุฉ
ูู
ุง ููู ุงูุงุดูุงุก
ูููู ุฑูุจุช
ูุฃู ุงุนู
ู ุฃู ู
ุฌููู
ูุงููู
ุดุนุฑู ูู ุงูุฑูุญ
ูุตุฏุฑู ู
ูุชูุญ ูููุฑุฏุฉ ูุงูุณููู
โ
โ
ุนูู ู
ุญู
ูุฏ ุฎุถูุฑ
โ
ูุนุจุฑ ุงูุนุงู
ู ููุฃุชู ุงูุนุงู
ูุ
ููู ..
ุฃูุช ุชุจููู ูุฌูุฏุงู.. ูุฃู
ู
ูุทุฑููุงู ูุงุจุถุงู ุจุงููู
ุณุฉ ุงูุฃูููุ ุนู
ููุงู ูุงูุฃุฒู
ูุดุนุงุนุงู ุซุงูุจุงู ุฃูู ุญูุงุชู ..
ุณุงูุจุงู ูู ุนู
ู ุฐุงุชู
ูุทุฑุฉ ุงูุถูุก .. ุงููุญูุฏุฉ ..
ูุฃู
ุงู ุงูุฃุฑุถ .. ููููุณ ุงูุดุฑูุฏุฉ
ููู ุชุฑุชุงุญ ุฅูู ุดุงุทูุก ุฏููุงูุง ุงูุฌุฏูุฏุฉ
ููู ุชูุชุฒูู ุฅูู ูููููู ุงูู
ุณุงูุงุช ุงูู
ุฏูุฏุฉ
ูุญุธุฉ ุชููุฏ ูููุงุ
ูุงููู
ุงุฑ ุงูุณูู ุ ูุงููู
ุญู ุงูู
ูุดุนูู ุงูุถูุกุ
ูุงูุฑุคูุง ุงูุนุฌูุจุฉ..
ูุนุจุฑู ุงูุนุงู
ูุ ููููู ุฃูุช ุชุจูููู ุญูุงุชู
ูุณูููู ุงููุงุฏู
ุงุชู ุ
ูู ุบุฏูุ
ูุงูุฐูุฑูุงุช!
โ
โ
ูุงุฑูู ุดูุดุฉ
โ
ุงูุนูู ููุณ ูุนุงุก ูุฌุจ ู
ูุคู ุจู ูุงุฑ ูุฌุจ ุงููุงุฏูุง
The mind is not a vessel to be filled, but a fire that must be kindled.
โ
โ
Abbas Mahmud Al-Aqqad
โ
ูุญูู
ู ุงูููู ุจูุฌุฑุฉู ุงููุทูู ูุทุงูู
ุง ุงุจุชูู ุจูุง ุฃููู ุงูููุทููู
ูููุช ุฃุณุชุนุฏูู ุนูู ุงููู
ูู
ุจูุงุช ูููุฑู ููุณ ุจุงูู
ููู
ู
ุฃุณุชุฏูุน ุงููุฑุงุบ ูุงูุนุทูุงูู ูุจุทูู ู
ู ููุชูู ุงูุจูุทุงููู
โ
โ
ุฃุญู
ุฏ ุดููู (ุฏูู ุงูุนุฑุจ ูุนุธู
ุงุก ุงูุฅุณูุงู
)
โ
ุทุงูุชู ูููุชุงุจุฉ ุทุงุบูุฉ ุชุณุชูุทู ูู ุญุถุงุฑุงุชู ูุชูุณุชุจูุญ ุฏู
ุงุฆู ูู ูู ุญุฑู
โ
โ
ู
ูุฑุฉ ุงูุดุญู
โ
ู ููู ุตุจูุญุฉุ ุฃูุชุธุฑ ุงูุดุฑูู ูุนูู ูุฒู ูู ุงุดุฑุงูุฉุ ููุง ูู ุฃุดุฑูุช ุจู
ุง ุฃุฑูุฏุ ู ูุง ูู ุฃุดุฑูุช ู
ู ู
ุบุฑุจูุง ........
โ
โ
Nabil TOUSSI
โ
ู
ูู ูููุฉ ุฒูุฒุงูุชู ุงูุตููุบุฑู
ุฃุจุตุฑู ุฃุดุฌุงุฑุงู ุชูุจุณู
ู ูู
ูุณุทูุญุงู ูู
ูุฃูุง ุฃููู
ูููุงูุฐู ุชุจูู ูุชุตูู
ู
ู ุฃุฌูู
ู
ู ููููุฉู ุฒูุฒุงูุชู ุงูุตุบุฑู
ุฃุจุตุฑู ุฒูุฒุงููุชููู ุงูููุจุฑู
โ
โ
Samih Al-Qasim
โ
ุฃููู ุฃุชู ู
ู ููุงู
ู
ุง ุจูู ู
ูุฌุฉู ุชุณุงู
ุฑ ุฎุตุฑู ูู
ูุฌุฉู ุชููููู
ูุดู
ุณ ุญุฒูุฑุงู ุงูุจุฑุชูุงููุฉ..
ุฏู
ุนุฉ ุชุญุฑู ุฎุฏูู ูุชุบุฑููู..
ูุฃููู ููููุฉู ุชุฎููู ูู ุฃูู ุขุชู ู
ู ููุงู..
ู
ุงุดูุงู ุญุงููุงู ุนูู ุงูู
ุงุก ูุชููู ุนููู ุงูุชุญูุฉ.
โ
โ
Malak El Halabi
โ
ุญุชู ุดุงุนุฑ ุงููุจู ( ุญุณูุงู ุจู ุซุงุจุช ) ูุงู ูู ุตุงุญุจู ( ู ูู ุตุงุญุจ ู
ู ุจูู ุงูุดูุตุจุงู ... ูุทููุฑุง ุฃููู ู ุทูุฑูุง ููู ) ุ ู ุจูู ( ุงูุดูุตุจุงู ) ู
ู ูุจุงุฆู ุงูุฌู ุ ููุตุฏ ุฃููู
ุง ูุชูุงูุจุงู ุนูู ููู ุงูุดุนุฑ ู ุงูุฃุจูุงุช ุ ู ูู ูุฐุง ู
ุนุฑูู ููุนุฑุจุ ููู ุชุทูุฑ ุงูุฒู
ู ุฌุนู ุงูุฅูู
ุงู ุจุงูุฌู ูุถุนู ุดูุฆุง ูุดูุฆูุง ููุฃุณู..
โ
โ
ุนุตุงู
ู
ูุตูุฑ (ุดูุทุงู ุดุนุฑู)
โ
ุนูุฏู
ุง ูุฎุชูุท ูู ุดูุก
ุงูุถูุก
ูููุงูุฐ ุจูุชู
ุฃุนุฑู ุจุฃูู ูุงูุตู
ุช ูุญุณุจ
ุจูุง ุนุฒุงุก.
โ
โ
ูุงุทู
ุฉ ุณูุทุงู ุงูู
ุฒุฑูุนู (ุจูุง ุนุฒุงุก)
โ
ุตูุฑ ูุฑูุด
ุฃูุณู
ุชู ุฃู
ุชู ุฃููุง ู
ูุญุชูู ุงูุฃู
ุงูู
ุฃูุณู
ุชู ุฃู
ุชู
ุซู
ูุงู
ุฃููุง ูุชูุช ุฒูุฌุชู
ูุฃูุง ุฃูุทุน ุงูููุฑุ
ูุงุณูู .. ูุงุญูู .. ูุงุตููุฌุงู
ุฎุจูุฑู ูุงุฑููู ุงูุฑุคู ุงููุงููู
ุฎุจุฑู ุฃู
ุชู
ุฃู
ุชู ุงูุฎุงุทูู
ุฃููู ูู
ุฃุจุน ุฒูุฌุชู
ูู
ุฃุจุนูุง .. ุจุฃูุฏูุณู ุซุงููู ..
โ
โ
Samih Al-Qasim (ุงูู
ูุช ุงููุจูุฑ)
โ
ูุงู ุจูุฏูู
ู
ุงุชุช ุงูุณูุงุจู.
ุฃุฑุถ ุงููู ุชุญุชุถุฑู..
ูู ูุฏูุ ูุฑุฏุฉ ุดููุฉ ุชุฏุนููู ูุบูุซู ู
ูุชุธุฑู..
ูุงู ุจูุฏูู..
โ
โ
Malak El Halabi (ุณู
ูุฑ)
โ
ููุจู ูุชูู ูุงุจุชุณุงู
ุชูุง'' - ุฌูููุงูู ุฏู ุณุงุฏูููุฑ
''My heart longs for her smile.
โ
โ
Giovannie de Sadeleer
โ
ูููู ุฏูููููู
ุฃููููููู ุณูุฏู ุนูู
ููููุณู ููุฃูุฑููุทู ุฒูููููู ููุนูุฑูุงุกู ุฌููุฃููู
โ
โ
ุงูุดููุฑู (ุฏููุงู ุงูุดููุฑู)
โ
ุชู
ุดู
ูุชู
ุดู
ูุง ูุดูุกู
ุณูู ุฃูู ุชูููู ุชุงุฆูุงู ูู
ูููุฑุฏุงู ูุญูุฑููุงู
โ
โ
ุนูู ู
ุญู
ูุฏ ุฎุถูุฑ (ุณููู ุงูุบูู
ุฉ)
โ
ุฑุฌูู ูู ุฎุฑูู ุงูุนู
ุฑ
ุดุนุฑู ุฑู
ุงุฏูู ูุฃุดุนุซ
ูุญูุงุชู...
ููู
ุชุญุช ุดู
ุณู ูุง ุชู
ุณูู
ุชุญุช ู
ุทุฑู ูุง ูุจูููู
ููู ุนูููู ู
ุฆุงุช ุงูุบููู
ู
ุฆุงุช ุงูุบููู
ูู ูู
ุทุฑ ููู
ุฉ
ููุง ูููููุง
ุฏุงุฎู ูุธุฑุชู ุงูุชู ุชููุญ ููุญุฒู
ูุจุงุจ ู
ุฎููุน
ุชุฑูุฏ ุญูุงุชู.
โ
โ
Malak El Halabi
โ
Dearly I yearn for my motherโs bread,
My motherโs coffee,
Motherโs brushing touch.
Childhood is raised in me,
Day upon day in me.
And I so cherish life
Because if I died
My motherโs tears would shame me.
โ
โ
Mahmoud Darwish
โ
ููุฐุง ุงููุฐู ุชูุนุฑููู ุงูุจูุทูุญุงุกู ููุทูุฃุชูููุ ููุงูุจูููุชู ูุนูุฑููููู ููุงูุญูููู ููุงูุญูุฑูู
ู
ูุฐุง ุงุจูู ุฎููุฑู ุนูุจุงุฏู ุงููู ููููููู
ูุ ูุฐุง ุงูุชูููู ุงูููููู ุงูุทูุงููุฑู ุงูุนูููู
ู
ูุฐุง ุงุจูู ูุงุทู
ูุฉูุ ุฅูู ููููุชู ุฌุงููููููุ ุจูุฌูุฏููู ุฃููุจูููุงุกู ุงููู ููุฏู ุฎูุชูู
ููุง
ููููููุณู ูููููููู: ู
ูู ูุฐุงุ ุจุถูุงุฆุฑููุ ุงูุนูุฑูุจู ุชูุนุฑููู ู
ู ุฃูููุฑูุชู ููุงูุนูุฌู
ู
ููููุชุง ููุฏููููู ุบูููุงุซู ุนูู
ูู ูููุนูููู
ูุงุ ููุณูุชููููููุงููุ ูููุง ููุนุฑููููู
ุง ุนูุฏูู
ู
ุณููููู ุงูุฎููููููุฉูุ ูุง ุชูุฎุดู ุจูููุงุฏูุฑูููุ ููุฒูููููู ุงุซูุงูู: ุญูุณูู ุงูุฎูููู ููุงูุดููู
ู
ุญูู
ูุงูู ุฃุซูุงูู ุฃูููุงู
ูุ ุฅุฐุง ุงูุชูุฏูุญููุงุ ุญูููู ุงูุดูู
ุงุฆููุ ุชูุญููู ุนูุฏููู ููุนูู
ู
ู
ุง ูุงู: ูุง ูุทููุ ุฅูุงู ูู ุชูุดููููุฏูููุ ูููููุง ุงูุชูุดูููุฏู ูุงููุชู ูุงุคูู ููุนูู
ู
ุนูู
ูู ุงูุจูุฑูููุฉู ุจุงูุฅุญุณุงููุ ูุงููููุดูุนูุชู ุนููููุง ุงูุบููุงููุจู ูุงูุฅู
ููุงูู ูุงูุนูุฏูู
ู
ุฅุฐ ุฑูุฃุชููู ููุฑูููุดู ูุงู ูุงุฆููููุง: ุฅูู ู
ูููุงุฑูู
ู ูุฐุง ููููุชูููู ุงูููุฑูู
ู
ููุบูุถูู ุญููุงุกูุ ููููุบุถูู ู
ู ู
ููุงุจูุชููุ ููู
ูุง ูููููููู
ู ุฅูุงู ุญูููู ููุจูุชูุณูู
ู
ุจููููููู ุฎูููุฒูุฑูุงูู ุฑููุญููู ุนูุจูููุ ู
ู ูููู ุฃุฑูููุนูุ ูู ุนูุฑูููููููู ุดู
ูู
ู
ูููุงุฏู ููู
ูุณููููู ุนูุฑููุงูู ุฑูุงุญูุชูููุ ุฑููููู ุงูุญูุทููู
ู ุฅุฐุง ู
ุง ุฌูุงุกู ููุณุชูููู
ู
ุงููู ุดูุฑููููู ููุฏูู
ุงูุ ููุนูุธูู
ูููุ ุฌูุฑูู ุจูุฐุงูู ูููู ูู ููููุญููู ุงูููููู
ู
ุฃููู ุงูุฎููุงุฆููู ููููุณูุชู ูู ุฑูููุงุจูููู
ูุ ูุฃููููููุฉู ููุฐุงุ ุฃูู ูููู ููุนู
ู
ู
ูู ููุดููุฑู ุงููู ููุดููุฑู ุฃููููููุฉู ุฐุงุ ูุงูุฏููููู ู
ูู ุจููุชู ูุฐุง ููุงูููู ุงูุฃูู
ูู
ู
ูููู
ู ุฅูู ุฐูุฑูููุฉู ุงูุฏูููู ุงูุชู ููุตูุฑูุชู ุนูููุง ุงูุฃููููุ ูุนู ุฅุฏุฑุงูููุง ุงูููุฏูู
ู
ู
ููู ุฌูุฏูููู ุฏุงู ููุถููู ุงูุฃููุจููุงุกู ููููุ ููููุถููู ุฃูู
ูุชููู ุฏุงููุชู ูููู ุงูุฃูู
ูู
ู
ู
ูุดูุชูููุฉู ู
ููู ุฑูุณูููู ุงููู ููุจูุนูุชูููุ ุทูุงุจูุชู ู
ูุบุงุฑูุณููู ูุงูุฎููู
ู ููุงูุดูููู
ู
ููููุดููู ุซูููุจู ุงูุฏูุฌูู ุนู ููุฑู ุบุฑูุชููู ูุงูุดู
ุณ ุชููุฌุงุจู ุนู ุฅุดุฑูุงูููุง ุงูุธููููู
ู
ู
ู ู
ูุนุดูุฑู ุญูุจููููู
ู ุฏููููุ ููุจูุบูุถูููู
ู ููููุฑูุ ููููุฑูุจูููู
ู ู
ููุฌูู ููู
ูุนุชูุตูู
ู
ู
ูููุฏููู
ู ุจุนุฏ ุฐูููุฑู ุงููู ุฐูููุฑูููู
ูุ ูู ููู ุจูุฏูุกูุ ููู
ูุฎุชูู
ู ุจู ุงูููููู
ู
ุฅูู ุนูุฏู ุฃูููู ุงูุชูููู ูุงููุง ุฃุฆูู
ูุชููู
ูุ ุฃูู ููู: ยซู
ู ุฎูุฑู ุฃูู ุงูุฃุฑูุถุยป ููู: ูู
ูุง ููุณุชูุทูุนู ุฌูููุงุฏู ุจูุนุฏู ุฌููุฏูููู
ูุ ูููุง ููุฏุงูููููู
ู ููููู
ูุ ููุฅูู ููุฑูู
ููุง
ููู
ู ุงูุบููููุซูุ ุฅุฐุง ู
ุง ุฃุฒูู
ูุฉู ุฃุฒูู
ูุชูุ ููุงูุฃูุณุฏู ุฃูุณุฏู ุงูุดูุฑููุ ููุงูุจุฃุณู ู
ุญุชุฏู
ู
ูุง ูููููุตู ุงูุนูุณุฑู ุจูุณุทุงู ู
ู ุฃููููููู
ูุ ุณูููุงูู ุฐูู: ุฅู ุฃุซูุฑูููุง ููุฅูู ุนูุฏูู
ููุง
ููุณุชุฏูููุนู ุงูุดุฑูู ููุงูุจูููููู ุจุญูุจูููู
ูุ ููููุณูุชูุฑูุจู ุจููู ุงูุฅุญูุณูุงูู ููุงููููุนูู
ู
โ
โ
ุงููุฑุฒุฏู (ุฏููุงู ุงููุฑุฒุฏู)
โ
I actually chafe at describing myself as masculine. For one thing, masculinity itself is such an expansive territory, encompassing boundaries of nationality, race, and class. Most importantly, individuals blaze their own trails across this landscape. And itโs hard for me to label the intricate matrix of my gender as simply masculine.
To me, branding individual self-expression as simply feminine or masculine is like asking poets: Do you write in English or Spanish? The question leaves out the possibilities that the poetry is woven in Cantonese or Ladino, Swahili or Arabic. The question deals only with the system of language that the poet has been taught. It ignores the words each writer hauls up, hand over hand, from a common well. The music words make when finding themselves next to each other for the first time. The silences echoing in the space between ideas. The powerful winds of passion and belief that move the poet to write.
โ
โ
Leslie Feinberg
โ
I Will Rise One Day
I will rise one day and speak it
I, the Kurd, will rise one day
and speak it
I, the Amazigh, your voice
will rise one day
I, the Arab you know
will rise one day
and speak it:
They've gone now, Saladin
โ
โ
Najwan Darwish (Nothing More to Lose (NYRB Poets))
โ
Dreamers don't abandon
their dreams, they flare and continue
the life they have in the dreamโฆtell me
how you lived your dream in a certain place
and I'll tell you who you are. And now,
as you awaken, remember if you have wronged
your dream. And if you have, then remember
the last dance of the swan.
โ
โ
Mahmoud Darwish (Now, as You Awaken)
โ
A great poet must have the ear of a wild Arab listening in the silent desert, the eye of a North American Indian tracing the footsteps of an enemy upon the leaves that strew the forest, the touch of a blind man feeling the face of a darling child.
โ
โ
Samuel Taylor Coleridge
โ
Things You May Find Hidden in My Ear
BY MOSAB ABU TOHA
For Alicia M. Quesnel, MD
i
When you open my ear, touch it
gently.
My motherโs voice lingers somewhere inside.
Her voice is the echo that helps recover my equilibrium
when I feel dizzy during my attentiveness.
You may encounter songs in Arabic,
poems in English I recite to myself,
or a song I chant to the chirping birds in our backyard.
When you stitch the cut, donโt forget to put all these back in my ear.
Put them back in order as you would do with books on your shelf.
โ
โ
Mosab Abu Toha (Things You May Find Hidden in My Ear: Poems from Gaza)
โ
ููุฏ ูู
ูุง ุจู
ุง ุฃุญุจุจููุง ูู
ุง ุธููููุง
ู
ุณู ุงูุนูู ุนูู
ู ูุญู ุจู ูุฒูุงู
โ
โ
Noureddine Rahmani
โ
because you are die surface of my sky.
My body is the land,
the place for you...
the pigeons fly
the pigeons come down...
โ
โ
Mahmoud Darwish
โ
ุณุฃุฑุชุงุญู ุ ูู
ููู ู
ุนูู ูุฌูุฏู
ูุถูููุง ุ ูู ูุง ูุงู ุนู
ููููุฑู ุณุฏูู
ูู
ุง ู
ูุงุช ู
ูู ูู ุงูุฒู
ูููุงูู
ุฃุญุจูู ุ ูู ูุง ู
ุงุช ู
ูู ุบุฑูุฏูุง
โ
โ
ูุฒุงุฑ ูุจุงูู (ูุงูุช ูู ุงูุณู
ุฑุงุก)
โ
ูููู ุงูุฑุฌู ุงูุฐู ูู ููุฑููุฑู ููุฐูุง ุงูุฏูุฑ ู
ุฑูุชูู..
โ
โ
Malak El Halabi
โ
Just like you, my country cannot hear me:
She's made of bronze
and I
can no longer reach her heart
(from Thoughts on the Statue of Talaat Harb)
โ
โ
Najwan Darwish (Nothing More to Lose (NYRB Poets))
โ
Perfume the literature you write with only the finest inks,
for literature works are luscious girls, and ink their precious perfume.
โArabic saying ~800 AD
โ
โ
Tim Mackintosh-Smith (Arabs: A 3,000-Year History of Peoples, Tribes and Empires)
โ
You do not die because you are created or because you have a body
You die because you are the face of the future.
The flower that tempted the wind to carry its perfume
Died yesterday.
โ
โ
Adonis (Victims of a Map: A Bilingual Anthology of Arabic Poetry)
โ
ููุง ูุงุฑุฆู ุ ูุง ุฑูููู ุงูุทุฑููู
ุฃูุง ุงูุดููููุชุงูู ุ ู ุฃูุชู ุงูุตูุฏู
ุณูููููุฃูุชู ุจุงููู .. ูู ูุงุนูููููููู
ูุง
ุฅุฐุง ู
ุง ุถู
ู
ุชู ุญุฑููู ุบูุฏูุง
ุชุฐููููููุฑ - ูู ุฃูุช ุชู
ูููููุฑูู ุนููููููููุง
ุนุฐุงุจู ุงูุญุฑููู ููููู ุชูุฌูุฏูุง
โ
โ
ูุฒุงุฑ ูุจุงูู
โ
Tenรญa por cierto, antes de conocer a este eunuco,
que las cabezas eran asiento de la inteligencia,
si bien al contemplar su entendimiento
comprendรญ que la inteligencia estรก toda en los cojones.
โ
โ
Abul Tayib Al-Mutanabbi (Poesรญa รกrabe clรกsica (Mitos Poesรญa #22))
โ
Few of the Arabs could read, but beauty of speech was a virtue which all Arab parents desired for their children. A man's worth was largely assessed by his eloquence, and the crown of eloquence was poetry.
โ
โ
Martin Lings (MUHAMMAD: His Life Based on the Earliest Sources)
โ
The word qurโan means โrecitation.โ It was not designed for private perusal, but like most scriptures, it was meant to be read aloud, and the sound was an essential part of the sense. Poetry was important in Arabia. The poet was the spokesman, social historian, and cultural authority of his tribe, and over the years the Arabs had learned how to listen to a recitation and had developed a highly sophisticated critical ear.
โ
โ
Karen Armstrong (Muhammad: A Prophet for Our Time (Eminent Lives))
โ
Broken tree branches
Scattered flowers
Bent street light poles
Cut electricity lines
Dead birds
But the weather is beautiful, and the breeze is refreshingโฆ
My heart is full of an after-storm peace and tranquilityโฆ
The real tranquility is the one that follows not precedes the stormโฆ
(July 1, 2015)
โ
โ
Louis Yako (ุฃูุง ุฒูุฑุฉ ุจุฑูุฉ [I am a Wildflower])
โ
When you find a man
Who transforms
Every part of you
Into poetry,
Who makes each one of your hairs
Into a poem,
When you find a man
Capable,
As lam,
Of bathing and adorning you
With poetry,
I will beg you
To follow him without hesitation.
It is not important
That you belong to me or him
But that you belong to poetry.
โ
โ
Nizar Qabbani (Arabian Love Poems: Full Arabic and English Texts)
โ
The children in my dreams
speak in Gujarati
turn their trusting faces to the sun
say to me
care for us nurture us
in my dreams I shudder and I run.
I am six
in a playground of white children
Darkie, sing us an Indian song!
Eight
in a roomful of elders
all mock my broken Gujarati
English girl!
Twelve, I tunnel into books
forge an armor of English words.
Eighteen, shaved head
combat boots -
shamed by masis
in white saris
neon judgments
singe my western head.
Mother tongue.
Matrubhasha
tongue of the mother
I murder in myself.
Through the years I watch Gujarati
swell the swaggering egos of men
mirror them over and over
at twice their natural size.
Through the years
I watch Gujarati dissolve
bones and teeth of women, break them
on anvils of duty and service, burn them
to skeletal ash.
Words that don't exist in Gujarati :
Self-expression.
Individual.
Lesbian.
English rises in my throat
rapier flashed at yuppie boys
who claim their people โcivilizedโ mine.
Thunderbolt hurled
at cab drivers yelling
Dirty black bastard!
Force-field against teenage hoods
hissing
F****ing Paki bitch!
Their tongue - or mine?
Have I become the enemy?
Listen:
my father speaks Urdu
language of dancing peacocks
rosewater fountains
even its curses are beautiful.
He speaks Hindi
suave and melodic
earthy Punjabi
salty rich as saag paneer
coastal Kiswahili
laced with Arabic,
he speaks Gujarati
solid ancestral pride.
Five languages
five different worlds
yet English
shrinks
him
down
before white men
who think their flat cold spiky words
make the only reality.
Words that don't exist in English:
Najjar
Garba
Arati.
If we cannot name it
does it exist?
When we lose language
does culture die? What happens
to a tongue of milk-heavy
cows, earthen pots
jingling anklets, temple bells,
when its children
grow up in Silicon Valley
to become
programmers?
Then there's American:
Kin'uh get some service?
Dontcha have ice?
Not:
May I have please?
Ben, mane madhath karso?
Tafadhali nipe rafiki
Donnez-moi, s'il vous plait
Puedo tenerโฆ..
Hello, I said can I get some service?!
Like, where's the line for Ay-mericans
in this goddamn airport?
Words that atomized two hundred thousand Iraqis:
Didja see how we kicked some major ass in the Gulf?
Lit up Bagdad like the fourth a' July!
Whupped those sand-niggers into a parking lot!
The children in my dreams speak in Gujarati
bright as butter
succulent cherries
sounds I can paint on the air with my breath
dance through like a Sufi mystic
words I can weep and howl and devour
words I can kiss and taste and dream
this tongue
I take back.
โ
โ
Shailja Patel (Migritude)
โ
Loving you was the closest I came to seeing God.
โ
โ
Ayushee Ghoshal
โ
My beloved, if one day they ask you about me,
Do not hesitate and tell them with pride:
'He loves me, he loves me a lot.
โ
โ
ูุฒุงุฑ ูุจุงูู
โ
Was du schaffst รผberdauert die Zeit.
โ
โ
Rafik Schami (Was ich schaffe, รผberdauert die Zeit)
โ
And thou โ what needst with thy tribes' black tents
Who hast the red pavilion of my heart?
โ
โ
Francis Thompson (Complete Poetical Works of Francis Thompson)
โ
if an arab girl caves into the forest of her body
is she the tree or the ax or is she the space between?
โ
โ
Jess Rizkallah (the magic my body becomes: Poems)
โ
ุจูู ุจุญุฑู ูู
ุฑุณุงุชูุ
ุงูู
ุงุก ูุบุฑู
ูุงูุฃุฒุฑู ูุง ููุฌู.
โ
โ
Malak El Halabi
โ
America's 1st Arab spring came in the guise of the Civil War...when our nation couldn't stomach the abomination of slavery anymore. One can't help keep wondering...when the next one will come.โ
โ
โ
Timothy Pina (Hearts for Haiti: Book of Poetry & Inspiration)
โ
ุชุฑุงุชูู ุนูู ุฌุณุฏ ูุฑุงุดุฉ
ุงุบุณููู..
ู
ุฏูุฏูู..
ุงุบู
ุถูู..
ุดููุนูู..
ูุฏูุนูู..
ูุฏูุนููู.
ู
ู
ุณูุฉ ุชูู ุงููุฏ ุงูุจุงุฑุฏุฉ..
ุฃุณุฑู ู
ุง ุชุจููู ู
ู ุญุฑุงุฑุฉ ูุฐุง ุงูููู.
ุฏุนููู.
ุฃุญุชุถู ูุฐุง ุงูุฌุณุฏ ุงููุงู
ุฏ..
ุฃุณุฑู ู
ู ุงูู
ูุช ุชูููุฏุฉ.
ูุฑุงุดุชู ุงูุจูุถุงุก ุณูุทุชุ
ุฃู
ุงู
ุนุชุจุฉ ุงูุฏุงุฑ
ูุฃูุง..
ู
ุง ุนุงุฏ ุจูุณุนู ุงูู
ุงู ุงููุตูุฏุฉ..
ู
ุง ุนุงุฏ ุจูุณุนู ุงูู
ุงู ุงููุตูุฏุฉ..
ููุงูุฐ ุงูุญูู ุชุฑูุชูุง ุฌู
ูุนูุง ู
ุดุฑูุนุฉ..
ุญุชูู ุจููุงุจุฉ ุงูุญุฏูุฏ ุชุฑูุชูุง ู
ูุชูุญุฉ..
ุงุนุชูุฏุช ุงููุง ูุฏ ุชุนูุฏ..
ุชูู ุงููุฑุงุดุฉ ุงูุจูุถุงุก..
ูุฑุงุดุชู ุงููุญูุฏุฉ.
ุงุนุชูุฏุช ุงููู ูุฏ ุงุณุชููุธ ู
ุฌุฏุฏุงู ุนูู ุฑูุฑูุชูุง..
ูุงุทูุฃ ููุง ุงูุดู
ุนุฉ ูู ูุง ุชุญุชุฑู ูู ุงูุนุดููุฉ..
ูููู ูุฑุงุดุชู ุงูุจูุถุงุก ุณูุทุชุ
ุงู
ุงู
ุนุชุจุฉ ุงูุฏุงุฑ
ูุฃูุง..
ุฃุญุฑูุช ููู
ูุงุ
ุญุฏุงุฏุงู ุนูููุงุ
ููู ูุตุงุฆุฏู ุงูุฒูุฑูุฉ..
ููู ูุตุงุฆุฏู ุงูุฒูุฑูุฉ.
โ
โ
Malak El Halabi (ุณู
ูุฑ)
โ
POEM FOR SOUKAรNAโ
****
To tell of my new Moroccan Love,
ร, I court her everyday.
But just as a pearl in the mud is a pearl,
So is my Love just an Arab girlโฆ
in that I offer her constant, loving woos,
but sheโll ask me in return that I give her flooze*.
Thatโs when I kiss her and shrug, and I say, โSomeday.โ
And she gives me her love free anyway.
* * *
ร, my Love is a child of the souks.
In Casablanca born.
A gypsy thief, โSoukaรฏnaโ named.
We met in the souks of Marrakech,
It was here my heart she tamed.
ร, she came at nineteen to Marrakech,
In search of wild fun.
And she lived in Marrakech seven years,
Before my heart she won.
โ
โ
Roman Payne
โ
ูุงู ูุง ุจุฏูู ู
ู ุงูุณูุฑ ุงูู ุงููุงููุฉ... ููุงู ูุง ุจุฏูู ุฃูุถุงู ู
ู ุงูุฑูุถ ุจุงุชุฌุงููุง... ููู ุฃุณูู ูููู ูุงููุฉ ุทููุงู ูุดุจูู ููููุงู... ูุถุญู ุจุฑุนููุฉ ููุชู
ุชู
: ุงูุฑุดุฏ ูุฎู ุฃููุนูู ุจู. ุงุจูู ูู
ุง ุฃูุชู. ุงุจูู ูู
ุง ุฃูุชู... ู
ุชููุฑุงู. ุงููุงู ุฃู ุชูุจุฑ.
โ
โ
Malak El Halabi
โ
A. Guillaume sums up as follows: The Qurฤn is one of the worldโs classics which cannot be translated without grave loss. It (The Holy Qurฤn) has a rhythm of peculiar beauty and a cadence that charms the ear. Many Christian Arabs speak of its style with warm admiration, and most Arabists acknowledge its excellence. . . . indeed it may be affirmed that within the literature of the Arabs, wide and fecund as it is both in poetry and in elevated prose, there is nothing to compare with it.376
โ
โ
Laurence B. Brown (The First and Final Commandment)
โ
Information does not make a philosophy, information only makes a memory, what makes a philosophy is the way ideas are rotated in the head, and this matter depends on different forms of experimentation, not on settled and codified ways of thinking.
โ
โ
ุงูุณุนูุฏ ุนุจุฏุงูุบูู
โ
ุฃุฎุดู
ุณุฃุฐูุจ ููุชุณุจุญ ููููุงู.
ุฃุฎุดู ุฃู ูุง ุฃุนูุฏ..
ุงูุฃู
ูุงุฌ ุชุบุงุฒููู ูุชุฏุนููู ููุนุดุงุก ุฏูู
ุงู.
ุฃุฎุดู ุฃู ุฃูุงูู ุนูู ู
ูุงูุชูู..
ุฃุฎุดู ุฃู ุฃุฐูุจ..
ุฃุฎุดู ุฃู ูุง ุงุนูุฏ..
ุณุฃุฐูุจ ููุฑูุถ ููููุงู .
ุฃุฎุดู ุฃู ูุง ุงุนูุฏ..
ุงูุบููู
ุชูุฏู ุงุณู
ู ุจุงุณุชู
ุฑุงุฑ.
ุฃุฎุดู ุงู ุฃูุจูู ูุฏุงุกุงุชูู..
ุงุฎุดู ุงู ุฃุฐูุจ ูุง ุฃู
ู..
ุฃุฎุดู ุฃู ูุง ุงุนูุฏ..
โ
โ
Malak El Halabi (ุณู
ูุฑ)
โ
Later, when his desires had been satisfied, he slept in an odorous whorehouse, snoring lustily next to an insomniac tart, and dreamed. He could dream in seven languages: Italian, Spanic, Arabic, Persian, Russian, English and Portughese. He had picked up languages the way most sailors picked up diseases; languages were his gonorrhea, his syphilis, his scurvy, his ague,his plague. As soon as he fell asleep half the world started babbling in his brain, telling wondrous travelers' tales. In this half-discovered world every day brought news of fresh enchantments. The visionary, revelatory dream-poetry of the quotidian had not yet been crushed by blinkered, prosy fact. Himself a teller of tales, he had been driven out of his door by stories of wonder, and by one in particular, a story which could make his fortune or else cost him his life.
โ
โ
Salman Rushdie (The Enchantress of Florence)
โ
Such was the Arab of the desert, the dweller in tents, in whom was fulfilled the prophetic destiny of his ancestor Ishmael. "He will be a wild man; his hand will be against every man, and every man's hand against him." Nature had fitted him for his destiny. His form was light and meagre, but sinewy and active, and capable of sustaining great fatigue and hardship. He was temperate and even abstemious, requiring but little food, and that of the simplest kind. His mind, like his body, was light and agile. He eminently possessed the intellectual attributes of the Shemitic race, penetrating sagacity, subtle wit, a ready conception, and a brilliant imagination.
His sensibilities were quick and acute, though not lasting; a proud and daring spirit was stamped on his sallow visage and flashed from his dark and kindling eye. He was easily aroused by the appeals of eloquence, and charmed by the graces of poetry. Speaking a language copious in the extreme, the words of which have been compared to gems and flowers, he was naturally an orator;
but he delighted in proverbs and apothegms, rather than in sustained flights of declamation, and was prone to convey his ideas in the oriental style, by apologue and parable.
โ
โ
Washington Irving
โ
Lost
In black as solid as a mire
In a land no one would die for
In a time I was lost
To anyone who ever loved me
The world set itself on fire
And the sky collapsed above me
In a place no one could call home
In a place I breathed and slept
In a battle no one understood
That continued all the same
I sat defenseless and alone
With the insignificance of my name
In the midst of the Lordโs birth
On a night meant to be peaceful
In a country of the Prophet
Where women donโt live free
I spoke to God from the shaking Earth
And prayed my mother would forgive me
In a city without power
In a desert torn by religion
In a bank between two rivers
We added up the decadeโs cost
And glorified the final hour
Of a war that everyone had lost
In the dust of helplessness
In a concrete bunker
In a fate I chose myself
I waited without remorse
To fight again as recompense
For wasted lives and discourse
-an original poem about an attack on our base in Iraq during the Arab Spring
โ
โ
Dianna Skowera
โ
ูุงู ููุจุบู ูู ุฃู ุฃู
ุชูุน. ูุงู ููุจุบู ูู ุฃู ุฃุตู
ุช. ูุงู ููุจุบู ูู ุฃู ูุง ุฃูุชูู. ุฃู ุฃููู ูุนู
ุนูู ู
ุถุถ. ุฃู ุฃุฑุฏูุฏ ุดูุฑุงู. ูุฃุชู
ุชู
ูุง ู
ุทููุงู. ุฃู ูุง ุฃุญุฏูู ูู ูุฌูู ุทูููุงู. ุฃู ุฃุฏูุฑ ูุฌูู ุจุณุฑุนุฉ. ุฃู ุฃุฑุชุดู ูููุชู ุจุจุทุฃ. ุฃู ุฃูุธุฑ ุฏุงุฎู ุงูููุฌุงู. ูุฃู ุฃูุฏู "ูููู".
ูุงู ููุจุบู ูู ูู ูุฐุง ูู ุฃุญุจู. ููู ุฃุฐูุจ ุงูู ูููู ุจููุจู ุตุงุฎุจ ูุฌุณุฏู ูุฑูุตุ ูุงู ููุจุบู ูู ุฃูุถุงู ุฃู ุฃุนูุฏ ุชุฑุชูุจ ุงูููุช ุนูู ุทุฑููุชู.
โ
โ
Malak El Halabi
โ
Slavery has been outlawed in most arab countries for years now but there are villages in jordan made up entirely of descendants of runaway Saudi slaves. Abdulrahman knows he might be free, but hes still an arab. No one ever wants to be the arab - its too old and too tragic, too mysterious and too exasperating, and too lonely for anyone but an actual arab to put up with for very long. Essentially, its an image problem. Ask anyone, Persian, Turks, even Lebanese and Egyptians - none of them want to be the arab. They say things like, well, really we're indo-russian-asian european- chaldeans, so in the end the only one who gets to be the arab is the same little old bedouin with his goats and his sheep and his poetry about his goats and his sheep, because he doesnt know that he's the arab, and what he doesnt know wont hurt him.
โ
โ
Diana Abu-Jaber (Crescent)
โ
No one can say what the inner life is, but poetry tries to, and no one can say what poetry is, but let's be bold and claim that there are two major streamings in consciousness, particularly in the ecstatic life, and in Rumi's poetry: call them fana and baqa, Arabic words that refer to the play and intersection of human with divine.
Rumi's poetry occurs in that opening, a dervish doorway these energies move through in either direction. A movement out, a movement in. Fana is the streaming that moves from the human out into mystery-the annihilation, the orgasmic expansion, the dissolving swoon into the all. The gnat becomes buttermilk; a chickpea disappears into the flavor of the soup; a dead mule decays into salt flat; the infant turns to the breast. These wild and boundaryless absorptions are the images and the kind of poem Rumi is most well known for, a drunken clairvoyant tavern voice that announces, "Whoever brought me here will have to take me home.
โ
โ
Coleman Barks (The Soul of Rumi: A New Collection of Ecstatic Poems)
โ
Beware of Strangers
As children, they teach us
To beware of strangers,
To refrain from approaching them.
As we grow older we learn
That no one is stranger than those
We thought weโd known all our lives.
As we grow older we learn
That a stranger may carry more empathy,
And may understand us more deeply.
Even feelings of affection from a stranger
May be more sincere.
And so I ask:
can humanity and the strangeness be synonymous?
Could we say:
I am a stranger; therefore I am?
Can we truly feel alive
Without strange things
Strange encounters
without strangers
reminding us that our hearts and minds are still beating?
They teach us to avoid strangers,
And life teaches us
that human awareness can only be borne out
Of the dagger of strangenessโฆ
That life is tasteless
When we donโt mix it with strangersโฆ
That familiarity is opposed to life!
And thus, I loudly declare:
A stranger I was born. A stranger I wish to remain!
And I ask that you issue my death certificate
The day I become familiar.
[Original poem published in Arabic on October 29 at ahewar.org]
โ
โ
Louis Yako
โ
Are you Afraid of Sadness?"
In an old interview
with a famous and talented Iraqi actress,
the interviewer asked her:
โWhy are you afraid of sadness?โ
The actress responded:
โI am afraid of it because it quickly takes you to a place from which you can never return.โ
And exactly as she was answering,
an insightful viewer could notice
a sadness on her face indicating
that the famous and talented actress herself
wasnโt really present in the interview
for sadness had long taken her with no returnโฆ
[Original poem published in Arabic on November 19, 2023 at ahewar.org]
โ
โ
Louis Yako
โ
ุทุฑูู ุงูุฌููุฌููุฉ
ูู
ุฃูู ููู
ุงู ุฑุงุนูุงู ููุฒู ู
ู ูุถุจุฉ.
ุฃูุง ูุงูู
ุณูุญุ ู
ุดูุช ุทุฑูู ุงูุฌูุฌูุฉ.
ุฃูุง ูุงูู
ุณูุญุ ุฐูุจุช ุงูู ุงูุตุญุฑุงุก ููุตูู
ุฃุฑุจุนูู ููู
ุงู.
ูุฃุฑุจุนูู ูููุฉ.
ููุณูุช ู
ู ุจุนุฏูุง ููููุฉ ุงูุฃูู.
ููุณูุช ู
ู ุจุนุฏูุง ุชูุงูู ุงูุจูุญ.
ุนูุฏู
ุง ุงูุชููุชู ุชุฑุงุกู ูู ุฃูู ุชููุฏ ู
ูุงูุจ ุงูู
ูุงุฆูุฉ.
ุชุฑุงุกู ูู ุงู ูุฌู ุงููู ุณูุจุงู ูุฃู ุฑุถูุงู ููุชุญ ูู ุจุงุจ
ุงูุฌูุฉ.
ููุง ุจูุฌู ุงููู
ุฑ ูุณูุฏ ุฃู
ุงู
ู ููุง ุจูููุฐุง ูุถุญู ูู
ู
ุจุชุนุฏุงู.
ุฃูุง ู
ุง ุทูุจุช ู
ูู ููู
ุงู ุฃู ุชูุฒููู ู
ู ุตููุจู.
ุฃูุง ููู ู
ุณูุญ ุฃุนุดู ูุฃุตูู ุตููุจู.
ุฃูุง ููู ู
ุณูุญ ูุฌุนู ุนูุฉ ูุฌูุฏู.
ู
ุง ุงู
ุฃุทูุจู ููู
ุชุจุฎู ุนูู ูู ุบุฑุฒ ุฃุดูุงู ูุฑูุฏู ูู ุนููู.
ูู ุฃุชุฐูุฑ ูุฌูุฏู ููู
ุง ุฑูุนุช ุจุฑุฃุณู ูุญู ุงูุณู
ุงุก.
ูู ุฃุณุชุดุนุฑ ุจุงูุดู
ุณ ุชุญุฑู ุฎุฏูุฏู ุงู
ุชุฏุงุฏ
ุงูุดุงุทุฆ.
ูู ุงุบุฑู ุจุนุฑูู ุงูู
ุงูุญ ููู
ุง ูุฒุฒุช ุจุฑุฃุณู ูุญู ุงูุฃุณูู.
โ
โ
Malak El Halabi (ุณู
ูุฑ)
โ
They say the world will end soon.
They say that the nuclear weapons made,
Due to fearing 'the other',
Has become a curse, a plague, a scourge
On those who made them
Even more than those they were made to scare...
And I wonder:
Will the nuclear weapons be the cause of worldโs end?
Or will worldโs end be caused by humanityโs fear, complicity, and submission?
And if what they say is true,
Before the world ends and before I die,
I wish to drink one last cup of cardamom-flavored tea
Taste one last fig, peach, or apricot,
Smell a quince,
Dip one last piece of bread
In Palestinian thyme and olive oilโฆ
Before the world ends,
I wish to smell a few pine needles,
To breathe the smell of the first rain shower
After a long, hot, and dry summerโฆ
Before the world ends and before I die,
I wish to read one more book
Out of the thousands of books that I still want to readโฆ
Before the world ends and before I die,
I ask for one more spring
To smell bunches of Iraqi narcissus flowers.
I want to live one more autumn,
To enjoy the magical colors
Of the dying leaves on the trees
As they challenge death with beauty
Right before falling on the grounds of indifferenceโฆ
But my biggest wish before I die is
For my death not to be the end of the worldโฆ
[Original poem published in Arabic on October 13 at ahewar.org]
โ
โ
Louis Yako
โ
I will begin by writing a sentence about cutting. I will begin by writing a sentence about silence. I will continue by writing a sentence about cutting. I will proceed to ask the question about cutting. I will proceed from this point without euphemism. The question is about the clitoris. I call my cousins in turn. I ask the question about the clitoris. I will begin by writing a sentence about the clitoris. I will begin with the assumption that we each continue to have a clitoris. False. We do not talk about this. I will begin with speculation about our mothers, that each continues to have a clitoris. False. We are never to ask. In the silence, my youngest cousin asks if our grandmothers were cut. We were meant to proceed without euphemism. The Arabic, however, does not allow it. The Arabic, cut by euphemism. We do not use the word cut. The word we use, left intact, is purified. I will ask. I will begin. I was born & allowed to mature uncut. I was born with a clitoris & remain uncut. I was born unnamed & upon arrival was given my orders. I was born & named for a woman who died. The Arabic here allows for nuance. My name, ours, is not the same as the word we use to mean cut. That word, conjugated, is the name of one of my grandmothers. I will not ask her the question. I am told she does not remember.
โ
โ
Safia Elhillo (Girls That Never Die: Poems)
โ
Outside the study hall the next fall, the fall of our senior year, the Nabisco plant baked sweet white bread twice a week. If I sharpened a pencil at the back of the room I could smell the baking bread and the cedar shavings from the pencil.... Pretty soon all twenty of us - our class - would be leaving. A core of my classmates had been together since kindergarten. I'd been there eight years. We twenty knew by bored heart the very weave of each other's socks....
The poems I loved were in French, or translated from the Chinese, Portuguese, Arabic, Sanskrit, Greek. I murmured their heartbreaking sylllables. I knew almost nothing of the diverse and energetic city I lived in. The poems whispered in my ear the password phrase, and I memorized it behind enemy lines: There is a world. There is another world.
I knew already that I would go to Hollins College in Virginia; our headmistress sent all her problems there, to her alma mater. "For the English department," she told me.... But, "To smooth off her rough edges," she had told my parents. They repeated the phrase to me, vividly.
I had hopes for my rough edges. I wanted to use them as a can opener, to cut myself a hole in the world's surface, and exit through it. Would I be ground, instead, to a nub? Would they send me home, an ornament to my breed, in a jewelry bag?
โ
โ
Annie Dillard (An American Childhood)
โ
The Meaning of 'Home'
As I travel from one city to another
From one country to another
From one sorrow to another,
I encounter thousands of faces:
In streets, shops, parks, and cafรฉs.
They all ask me the same painful question:
'Where are you from?'
As if they know, I am from a place that lost itself and lost me
On a long, cold, and sad winter night.
They ask me: 'What is your country known for?'
I tell them: 'My country is known for exporting sad stories,
refugees, and displaced people.
All those who were cursed by being born in it.'
Similar questions continue to be asked in cocktail parties,
In hypocritical and mediocre gatherings,
In conferences and boring meetings.
Some pretentiously ask me: 'How do you define "home"?'
I respond with Ghassan Knafaniโs words ringing in my ears:
'Home is for all of this not to happen.'
April 19, 2014
โ
โ
Louis Yako (ุฃูุง ุฒูุฑุฉ ุจุฑูุฉ [I am a Wildflower])
โ
Barbie"
Through my many and long travels
Iโve come across many who read books
On planes, buses, and on trainsโฆ
Over the years, three titles caught my attention
of books in the hands of women
who either looked like or tried to look like the Barbie dollโฆ
I donโt remember the exact titles of these books,
But I remember that one of them was something along the lines of
โhow keep your husband or preserve your marriage.โ
The other was something about โsigns that he is cheating on you.โ
And the third was something on how to get rid of him and move on!
It was as if these titles summarized the lifecycle of every woman
who lets herself to play the role of a Barbieโฆ
And I often wondered if reading books on
โHow to stop playing the Barbie roleโ in love and life
is not just enough to solve all the problems
the other three books are claiming to addressโฆ
[Original poem published in Arabic on May 16, 2024 at ahewar.org]
โ
โ
Louis Yako
โ
QUEEN OF THE SAND
"Oh father, behold the desert queen" and I looked and I saw an inscription but age deprived my understanding.
My daughter cried out, "Oh father, King of the Desert, behold she who bears my name". Then I realise it was Zara Muhammad The Queen of the Sand. The mercy of princesses. The sons delight and the father's pride.
Oh daughter of Arab, what bringeth thou thee to the Kingdom were daughters are enthroned, where women rule, and where the sons of men marvel at the beauty of the stars.
The Sand Queen replied, "It the glory every daughter of the Sand has spoken of brought me this far" "What glory, oh Adored Zara?" I asked and she roared with voice of a bird rejoicing over showers of seeds and she said "You my Lord and King, for your beauty has reached the ends of the world"
It was then I realise that this poem was written not only for Zara Muhammed but also for Zara Vote and Victor Vote.
Greetings of great Great Zara, Queen of the Sand.
Poem by Victor Vote for Zara Muhammed
โ
โ
Victor Vote
โ
A Flock of Geese"
She often wondered
about the inexplicable deep sorrow that she feels
every time she sees a flock of geese flying in the sky โฆ
Do the flying geese remind her that she has wasted her life
stuck in the trivialities of daily life?
Or perhaps the flying birds remind her
that sheโs lost her ability to fly?
She thinks at times in sadness
how she wasted the years of her life
like a naรฏve bride dreaming about the ideal groom...
A bride planning the minutest details of her wedding,
not realizing, until her wings were clipped,
that the wedding, the groom, and the bride
are roles and illusions created by society
to counter the dangers of all those who wish to fly;
those who dream about creating new worlds
instead of getting hanged or strangulated
in a world created by on their behalf by others โฆ
As she hears the honking of another passing flock of geese
flying over her head as did the most beautiful years of her life
the birds awaken in her that uncontrollable itch to depart
to refuse the illusion of settling and stability
The illusion of the wedding and the groom
The illusion of all the wedding invitees
Who spend an entire night dancing, cheering, and celebrating
the clipping of her wingsโฆ
[Original poem published in Arabic on December 14, 2023 at ahewar.org]
โ
โ
Louis Yako
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Everything has already been caught, until my death, in an icefloe of being: my trembling when a piece of rough trade asks me to brown him (I discover that his desire is his trembling) during a Carnival night; at twilight, the view from a sand dune of Arab warriors surrendering to French generals; the back of my hand placed on a soldier's basket, but especially the sly way in which the soldier looked at it; suddenly I see the ocean between two houses in Biarritz; I am escaping from the reformatory, taking tiny steps, frightened not at the idea of being caught but of being the prey of freedom; straddling the enormous prick of a blond legionnaire, I am carried twenty yards along the ramparts; not the handsome football player, nor his foot, nor his shoe, but the ball, then ceasing to be the ball and becoming the โkick-off,โ and I cease being that to become the idea that goes from the foot to the ball; in a cell, unknown thieves call me Jean; when at night I walk barefoot in my sandals across fields of snow at the Austrian border, I shall not flinch, but then, I say to myself, this painful moment must concur with the beauty of my life, I refuse to let this moment and all the others be waste matter; using their suffering, I project myself to the mind's heaven. Some negroes are giving me food on the Bordeaux docks; a distinguished poet raises my hands to his forehead; a German soldier is killed in the Russian snows and his brother writes to inform me; a boy from Toulouse helps me ransack the rooms of the commissioned and non-commissioned officers of my regiment in Brest: he dies in prison; I am talking of someoneโand while doing so, the time to smell roses, to hear one evening in prison the gang bound for the penal colony singing, to fall in love with a white-gloved acrobatโdead since the beginning of time, that is, fixed, for I refuse to live for any other end than the very one which I found to contain the first misfortune: that my life must be a legend, in other words, legible, and the reading of it must give birth to a certain new emotion which I call poetry. I am no longer anything, only a pretext.
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Jean Genet (The Thief's Journal)