Words in Poems: Nizar Qabbani (VII)

Words

Nizar Qabbani
(1923-1998)

يسمعني حين يراقصـــنـي

كـــلمات ليسـت كالـكلمــات

يأخذني من تحت ذراعــي

يزرعني في إحدى الغيمات

والمطر الأسود في عينــي

يتساقــــــط زخات زخــات

يحملني معه يحـــــــملنـــي

لمــســاء وردي الشـرفات

 وأنا كالطـفـــلة في يديـــــه

كالــريشة تحملها النسمات

يهديني شمسا يهديني صيفا

وقطيع السنــونـــــــــوات

يخــبرنـي أنـــي تحـفتـــه

وأســـاوي آلاف الـنجــمات

وبأني كنز وبــــأني

أجمل مــا شـــاهـــد مــن لوحــات

 يروي أشياء تدوخـــني

تنسيني المرقص والخطوات

كلمات تقلب تاريخـــي

 تجعلني امــرأة في لحظات

يبني لي قـصراً من وهم

لا أسكــن فــيه ســـوى لحظات

وأعـــــــود لطــاولـتـي

لاشــيء معــي

لاشــيء معــي  … إلا كلــمــــــات

كلمات ليسـت كــالـــكلمات

He tells me, when he dances with me,

Words are not like other words

He takes me, from under my arms

He plants me, in a distant cloud

And the black rain in my eyes

Falls in torrents, torrents

He carries me with him, he carries me

To an evening of rosy balconies

And I am like a child in his hands

Like a feather carried by the wind

He gives me sun, he gives me summer

and flocks of swallows

He tells me that I am his treasure

And that I am equal to thousands of stars

And that I am treasure, and that I am

more beautiful painting he has ever seen

He tells me things that make me dizzy

that make me forget the dance floor and the steps

Words…which overturn my history

which make me a woman…in seconds

He builds castles of fantasies

In which I live …for seconds…

And I return…I return to my table

Nothing with me…

Nothing with me…except words

Words are not like other words

Source: http://blogs.transparent.com/arabic/words/

Letters in Poems: Nizar Qabbani (VI)

A Letter from a Stupid Woman

(A Letter to a Man)

(1)

My dear Master,

This is a letter from a stupid woman

Has a stupid woman before me, written to you?

My name? Lets put names aside

Rania, or Zaynab

or Hind or Hayfa

The silliest thing we carry, my Master - are names

(2)

My Master:

I am frightened to tell you my thoughts

I am frightened - if I did -

that the heavens would burn

For your East, my dear Master,

confiscate blue letters

confiscate dreams from the treasure chests of women

Practices suppression, upon the emotions of women

It uses knives...

and cleavers...

to speak to women

and butchers spring and passions

and black plaits

And your East, dear Master,

Manufactures the delicate crown of the East

from the skulls of women

(3)

Don't criticize me, Master

If my writing is poor

For I write and the sword is behind my door

And beyond the room is the sound of wind and howling dogs

My master!

'Antar al Abys is behind my door!

He will butcher me

If he saw my letter

He will cut my head off

If I spoke of my torture

He will cut my head off

If he saw the sheerness of my clothes

For your East, my dear Master,

Surrounds women with spears

And your East, my dear Master

elects the men to become Prophets,

and buries the women in the dust.

(4)

Don't become annoyed!

My dear Master, from these lines

Don't become annoyed!

If I smash the complaints blocked for centuries

If I unsealed my consciousness

If I ran away...

From the domes of the Harem in the castles

If I rebelled, against my death...

against my grave, against my roots...

and the giant slaughter house....

Don't become annoyed, my dear Master,

If I revealed to you my feelings

For the Eastern man

Is not concerned with poetry or feelings

The Eastern man - and forgive my insolence - does not understand women

but over the sheets.

(5)

I am sorry my master -If I have insolently attacked the kingdom of Men

for the great literature of course -

is the literature of men

And love has always been

the allotment of men...

And sex has always been

a drug sold to men

A senile fairytale, the freedom of women in our countries

For there is no freedom

Other than, the freedom of men...

My Master

Say all you wish of me. It does not matter to me:

Shallow.. Stupid.. Crazy.. Simple minded.

It does not concern me anymore..

For whoever writes about her concerns...

in the logic of Men is called

a stupid woman

and didn't I tell you in the beginning

that I am a stupid woman?

Letters in Poems: Nizar Qabbani (V)

Five Letters to My Mother

Nizar Qabbani

Good morning sweetheart. 

Good morning my Saint of a sweetheart. 

It has been two year mother 

since the boy has sailed 

on his mythical journey. 

Since he hid within his luggage 

the green morning of his homeland 

and her stars, and her streams, 

and all of her red poppy. 

Since he hid in his cloths 

bunches of mint and thyme, 

and a Damascene Lilac. 

*** 

I am alone. 

The smoke of my cigarette is bored, 

and even my seat of me is bored 

My sorrows are like flocking birds looking for a grain field in season. 

I became acquainted with the women of Europe, 

I became acquainted with their tired civilization. 

I toured India, and I toured China, 

I toured the entire oriental world, 

and nowhere I found, 

a Lady to comb my golden hair. 

A Lady that hides for me in her purse a sugar candy. 

A lady that dresses me when I am naked, 

and lifts me up when I fall. 

Mother: I am that boy who sailed, 

and still longes to that sugar candy. 

So how come or how can I, Mother, 

become a father and never grow up. 

*** 

Good morning from Madrid. 

How is the 'Fullah'? 

I beg you to take care of her, 

That baby of a baby. 

She was the dearest love to Father. 

He spoiled her like his daughter. 

He used to invite her to his morning coffee. 

He used to feed her and water her, 

and cover her with his mercy. 

And when he died, 

She always dreamt about his return. 

She looked for him in the corners of his room. 

She asked about his robe, 

and asked about his newspaper, 

and asked, when the summer came, 

about the blue color of his eyes, 

so that she can throw within his palms, 

her golden coins. 

***

I send my best regards 

to a house that taught us love and mercy. 

To your white flowers, 

the best in the neighborhood. 

To my bed, to my books, 

to all of the kids in the alley. 

To all of these walls we covered 

with noise from our writings. 

To the lazy cat sleeping on the balcony. 

To the lilac climbing bush the neighbor's window. 

It has been two long years, Mother, 

with the face of Damascus being like a bird, 

digging within my conscience, 

biting at my curtains, 

and picking, with a gentle beak, at my fingers. 

It has been two years Mother, 

since the nights of Damascus, 

the odors of Damascus, 

the houses of Damascus, 

have been inhabiting our imagination. 

The pillar lights of her mosques, 

have been guiding our sails. 

As if the pillars of the Amawi, 

have been planted in our hearts. 

As if the orchards are still perfuming our conscience. 

As if the lights and the rocks, 

have all traveled with us. 

***

This is September, Mother, 

and here is sorrow bringing me his wrapped gifts. 

Leaving at my window his tears and his concerns. 

This is September, where is Damascus? 

Where is Father and his eyes. 

Where is the silk of his glances, 

and where is the aroma of his coffee. 

May God bless his grave. 

And where is the vastness of our large house, 

and where is its comfort. 

And where is the stairwell laughing at the tickles of blooms, 

and where is my childhood. 

Draggling the tail of the cat, 

and eating from the grape vine, 

and snipping from the lilac. 

*** 

Damascus, Damascus, 

what a poem we wrote within our eyes. 

What a pretty child that we crucified. 

We kneeled at her feet, 

and we melted in her passion, 

until, we killed her with love.

Words in Poems: Nizar Qabbani (IV)

"Las palabras son únicas, la fuerza más poderosa de la humanidad. Podemos elegir usar esta fuerza de forma constructiva con palabras de ánimo, o destructiva con palabras de desesperanza. La palabra tiene el poder y la energía para curar, ayudar, detener, herir, dañar o humillar"

Yehuda Berg (cita extraída y traducida de este artículo)

Cuarta entrada sobre el poeta sirio نزار قباني  Nizar Qabbani (1923-1998) (clic aquí para ver entradas previas) en el que os presentamos un poema que habla sobre el poder de las palabras.

Conquisto el mundo con palabras

Conquisto el mundo con palabras,

conquisto la lengua materna,

verbos, sustantivos, sintaxis.

Barro los comienzos de las cosas

y con un nuevo lenguaje

que tiene la música del agua el mensaje del fuego

enciende la edad venidera

y detengo el tiempo en tus ojos

y borro la línea

que separa

el tiempo de este momento singular.

Letters in Poems: Nizar Qabbani (III)

This is the third entry about نزار قباني  Nizar Qabbani (1923-1998) (click here to see previous posts), a Syrian poet who has left us with a rich intellectual legacy. On top of that, his political poetry can be regarded as a completely new phenomenon in modern Arabic poetry; and "his poetry in general is haunted by ideas of change and revolt against the old poetic genres and indeed against some new forms (i.e. free verse), as well as against the stagnation which has been inherited generation from generation - a stagnation of thought, expression and metre" (Al-Shahham, A. (1989), The Political Poetry of Nizar Qabbani. A Critical Study and Translation).

You can enjoy the poem below along with a song version of it sang by  عبدالحليم إسماعيل شبانة Abdel Halim Hafez (1929-1977), one of the most popular Egyptian and Arab singers.

Letter from Under the Sea

If you are my friend...

Help me...to leave you

Or if you are my lover...

Help me...so I can be healed of you...

If I knew....

that the ocean is very deep...I would not have swam...

If I knew...how I would end,

I would not have began

I desire you...so teach me not to desire

teach me...

how to cut the roots of your love from the depths

teach me...

how tears may die in the eyes

and love may commit suicide

If you are prophet,

Cleanse me from this spell

Deliver me from this atheism...

Your love is like atheism...so purify me from this atheism

If you are strong...

Rescue me from this ocean

For I don't know how to swim

The blue waves...in your eyes

drag me...to the depths

blue...

blue...

nothing but the color blue

and I have no experience

in love...and no boat...

If I am dear to you

then take my hand

For I am filled with desire...from my

head to my feet

I am breathing under water!

I am drowning...

drowning...

drowning...

Letters in Poems: Nizar Qabbani (II)

We discussed Nizar Qabbani in a previous entry, presenting two of his poems dealing with words and their power. As we had said in that entry, the main theme of most of his poems is love and woman. He said, ‘‘They ask me: why do you write about the woman? And I answer with the utmost innocence and simplicity: And why do I not write about her?’’(Nizār Qabbānī, Qiṣṣati maal-Shir, p.166).

The poem below is entitled "A Brief Love Letter", and as you will see, even though brief, it is sensual and engaging.

رسالة حب صغيرة

حبيبتي ، لدي شيءٌ كثير..	أقوله ، لدي شيءٌ كثير ..
من أين ؟ يا غاليتي أبتدي	و كل ما فيك.. أميرٌ.. أمير
يا أنت يا جاعلةً أحرفي	مما بها شرانقاً للحرير
هذي أغاني و هذا أنا	يضمنا هذا الكتاب الصغير
غداً .. إذا قلبت أوراقه	و اشتاق مصباحٌ و غنى سرير..
واخضوضرت من شوقها، أحرفٌ	و أوشكت فواصلٌ أن تطير
فلا تقولي : يا لهذا الفتى	أخبر عني المنحنى و الغدير
و اللوز .. و التوليب حتى أنا	تسير بي الدنيا إذا ما أسير
و قال ما قال فلا نجمةٌ	إلا عليها من عبيري عبير
غداً .. يراني الناس في شعره	فماً نبيذياً، و شعراً قصير
دعي حكايا الناس.. لن تصبحي	كبيرةً .. إلا بحبي الكبير
ماذا تصير الأرض لو لم نكن	لو لم تكن عيناك... ماذا تصير ؟

A Brief Love Letter

My darling, I have much to say

Where o precious one shall I begin ?

All that is in you is princely

O you who makes of my words through their meaning

Cocoons of silk

These are my songs and this is me

This short book contains us

Tomorrow when I return its pages

A lamp will lament

A bed will sing

Its letters from longing will turn green

Its commas be on the verge of flight

Do not say: why did this youth

Speak of me to the winding road and the stream

The almond tree and the tulip

So that the world escorts me wherever I go ?

Why did he sing these songs ?

Now there is no star

That is not perfumed with my fragrance

Tomorrow people will see me in his verse

A mouth the taste of wine, close-cropped hair

Ignore what people say

You will be great only through my great love

What would the world have been if we had not been

If your eyes had not been, what would the world have been?

Words in Poems: Nizar Qabbani (I)

نزار قباني  Nizar Qabbani (1923-1998), de orixe siria, é probablemente o poeta árabe máis coñecido hoxe en día. É considerado crucial no feminismo no mundo árabe, pois ademais da súa poesía romántica e mesmo sexual, sacou á luz moitos dos sufrimentos da muller nesta sociedade, integrando na súa poesía a impecable lingua árabe clásica coa viveza e elasticidade da fala coloquial siria.

Cheguei a Qabbani grazas a Raky, a quen lle agradezo a descuberta; e posteriormente a Khadija,  que me falou do home detrás da escrita e me permitiu escoitar os versos coa sonoridade e ritmo da versión orixinal.

Aquí vos deixo dous dos seus poemas que aluden ás palabras ou á escrita, xunto cun intento de tradución ao galego. Veredes que realmente capturan o corazón e fórzannos a lelos unha e outra vez.

Non lles falei de ti... pero 

descubríronte bañándote nas meniñas dos meus olhos

Non lles falei de ti... pero

léronte na miña tinta e nos meus papeis.

Xa que morreron as palabras dos diccionarios

xa que morreron as palabras das letras

xa que morreron as palabras das novelas

gustaríame descubrir un novo xeito de amar

e amareite dacordo a el...

sen palabras.