![]() ![]() Sensory and the abstract merge, how wondrous, in ink. Metaphor to flip into a Sufi ramble within one range. Lover, as she guides a team of students like a gazelle,Īscending to el-Deir. Student of history whose name is that of a famous Arabic Impersonates at night the images of ancient queens, or a Wades in a captivating mirage, or an archeologist who Wrote about a blonde tourist who rolls up her pants and Others wanted to be more contemporary in expressing aįemininity that is difficult to pass through with ease: some The tips of their pens, just as I did in discussing el-Siq. Goats, a Bedouin woman weaving an endless mat, a queenĭaughter of a queen. Pulled by four horses, a young shepherdess guiding a herd of Goddess like the morning star, a queen in a golden chariot Fady Joudah, in A Map of Signs and Scents: New and Selected Poems, 1979-2014Īll who wrote about Petra imagined it as female. Robin Mogerġ8) From “ Petra,” by Amjad Nasser, tr. Sinan Antoonġ7) “ The outstretched hand,” Mohab Nasr, tr. Sinan AntoonĬharlie Chaplin is sitting with my father in the guestroomġ6) “ Lower Your Voice,” Wadie Saleh, tr. ![]() Soldiers in their towers light their candle, far from the gusting windġ5) “ Untitled,” Salah Faik, tr. The war is over-it has been two or twenty centuries now.īut then suddenly when night falls, the war comes back. Elliott CollaĪlways, at sunset, the castle walls begin to breathe. Khaled Mattawaġ4) “ At Kerak Citadel,” Saadi Youssef, tr. You can find much more Darwish on his birthday post.ġ2) “ Celebrating Childhood,” Adonis, tr. In the passage to the square of the Orange where doves fly. I leave the dawn in the honey of the figs I leave my day and my yesterday In my mother’s cupboard I leave my dream, laughing, in water I leave jasmine in the vase I leave my young heart In the songs there are windows: enough for blossoms to explode. There is wine in our clay jars for the feast after us. Over the squares of my Granada, this day’s shirt. Also read this by Sinan Antoon.ġ1) From “ Eleven Stars Over Andalusia, ” by Mahmoud Darwish (1941-2008), tr. Agha Shahid Ali with Ahmad Dallal īefore you curse my choice of translation (although go ahead!), read Ghareeb Iskander’s criticism of the available versions. Rippled the silence of birds in the trees. Īs if children snickered in the vineyard bowers, It is as if archways of mist drank the cloudsĪnd drop by drop dissolved in the rain. ![]() Until all the batons of the police and protestersġ0) “ Rain Song,” by Badr Shakir al-Sayyab (1926-1964), tr. Until all the prison bars and suspects’ files of the world I will lie down in the middle of the street Sinan AntoonĪt the third hour of the twentieth century Marilyn HackerĬure your oppression and memory with sleepĩ) “ Tattoo,” Muhammad al-Mahgut (1934-2006), tr. Lightning shows his thin frame, but shadows intercept.Ĩ) “ Cure Your Slavery with Patience,” Saniyah Saleh (1939-1995), tr. The arcades groan in pain, and the lamps softly weep.Ī guard frowns as he passes with trembling steps, The lament of the wind fills the deserted street, When the night’s at its peak and the dark’s full of rain,Īnd the wet silence roils like a fierce hurricane, When the dark is a roof or a drape never drawn, In Karrada at night, wind and rain before dawn, Is the wide mouth of a red wound, untoothed,Īnd my teeth like full-bodied girls - mentionedįondly in speech but kept hidden, protected.ħ) “ To A Girl Sleeping in the Street,” Nazik al-Malaika (1923-2007), tr. I scorn delight, even the flashy grin of a pale storm-cloud – Like the crunching of one shivering from the cold,Ĥ) “ An Elegy,” Abu Ala’a al-Ma‘arri (973-1057), tr. He crunched his fangs, in whose rows lurked death, Tarif KhalidiĮye-catching, forepart and ribs upturned,Ĭreased by hunger, his resolve had hardened: Limbs grew strong.ģ) “ The Poet and the Wolf,” al-Buhturi (820-897), tr. He was sent to earth by night clouds guided by a rising star Through his tight-twist, taut-rope joints I brought out Colt-a stallion of brute power and pedigree. We can also recommend Michael Sells’ translation, but there doesn’t seem to be an excerpt online.Ģ) “ Three Hunting Poems,” Abu Nuwas (756-813/14), tr. Here, Kareem James Abu-Zeid’s reads from his forthcoming translation of Imru al-Qays, on SoundCloud. Courtesy Galerie Claude Lemand, Paris.ġ) “ Untitled,” Imru al-Qays, (501-565), tr. Yes, we’ve heard of Mutanabbi. Yes, we realize this poetry is not in proper chronological order, and that there are actually 23 poems:Īl-Mu’allaqat 3, 1978. Yes, there’s too much emphasis on modern poetry. ![]() Today is World Poetry Day - and the birthday of Syrian poet Nizar Qabbani (1923-1998) - and thus ArabLit will take an exceptionally eclectic & arguably nonsense tour through the entire history of Arabic poetry in English translation, based on what’s available free online in at least a good (and preferably fantastic) translation. ![]()
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