Jan 22, 2008

once in a while you read a poem that enters you and becomes a part of you.

Sonnet 1
by Mahmoud Darwish (translation by Fady Joudah)

If you are the last of what god told me, be
the pronoun revealed to double the "I." Blessedness is ours
now that almond trees have illuminated the footprints of passerby, here
on your banks, where above you grouse and doves flutter

With a gazelle's horn you stabbed the sky, then words flowed
like dew in nature's veins. What's a poem's name
before the duality of creation and truth, between the faraway sky
and your cedar bed, when blood longs for blood, and marble aches?

A myth will need to sunbathe around you. This crowdedness,
these gods of Egypt and Sumer under palm trees change their dresses
and their days' names, and complete their journey to the end of ryhme...

And my song needs to breathe: poetry isn't poetry
and prose isn't prose. I dreamt that you are the last of what god told me
when I saw you both in my sleep, then there were words...


Blogger margaret said...

I never thanked you for reposting this :) Shukran. Is it the same in Farsi?

11:11 PM  
Blogger pomegranate queen said...

you mean the word "shukran"? no. there's a few farsi words for thank you....

and the most infamous (in my opinion) but widely used...

merci (yup. as the the French word. the rememnants of a not-so-overt colonial relationship with france).

12:02 AM  
Blogger margaret said...

French is pretty common in Lebanon where I grew up too and for the same reasons.

12:41 AM  

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