Star of Poetry
The glory of yesterday... will tomorrow forget it?!
Separation does not forget what my hand has given.
Would that I was stars in the sky,
My country would boast of my radiance.
The star of poetry, if you lose it,
You may find it in the embrace of the North Star.
Would that I was soft silk,
So that I might spite the arrogance of the file.
In the hills of Lebanon, I tamed the horizon,
After my snows traced my source.
And in the shade of the cedars, I embraced bliss,
And left the rock to build. My seat
Goodness hangs from our cloak
And the birds flock to the most splendid temple
Wisdoms I have lived through that never end
Ah, how rich is the tongue of the father:
If you live your life without enjoying it
It will curse your meeting for all eternity
It is said that in fire there is perpetual melting
Would that this were in the cold frost
Every poem that does not understand its era
Becomes an ember in the corners of the hearth
A letter may shine in a prison cell
That becomes a palace for an eternal thought
He who prays in fear of his Lord
Is not more pious than a loving atheist
The gifts of love are a joyous victory
What humiliation is there in the heart of the hater?
My envious one... will never attain glory
The most wretched of ages is the age of the envious
It will not be said that the cat has become a lion
Even if it struts in the skin of a lion
How many a noble one I thought an example
Was a wolf behind a locked door
If you strip a woman's body
You will not see in it the beauty of the body
My homeland... I will not complain of the long suffering
Despite my distance, I am still in my resting place
I have carried the earth in my poetry
And in the pupil of my eye The weary stranger
My exile... a fire of painful longing
And my return... the whisper of the sweetest rendezvous
**
Have mercy on me, my Lord
Have mercy on me, my Lord,
For I am bowing before Your throne,
Lost in exile,
Yearning for love and a peaceful life.
I seek no wealth,
My dream is to be enriched by Your compassion.
My life without You is a lie.
Extend Your hands and embrace me.
**
My time
All paths are fraught with trials
Wherever we go, strife erupts
Killing has become our obsession today
Works and professions find pleasure in it
How many graves have become cities
When the cities expelled their inhabitants
Our morals, our thoughts, have withered
Like one enveloped by decay
Behold, a father whose tears are anger
He walks, and the shroud walks behind him
Even the mother's milk is depressed
Our hatred has surpassed the milk
Oh, how I wish my time would end
So, I could see what time leaves behind
**
To my mother
O Mother... the pain of separation continues
It destroys me... My heart is ailing
I live in abandonment, drunk on my tears
The darkness of the night is tormented by wailing
Yes, I long for pure love
I yearn for the joyful smile on your lips
I want your arm to envelop me in tenderness
And the warmth of your bosom to lengthen my slumber
You were life itself to every child
One generation fades away... another arrives
The peoples of the earth have bestowed upon you glory
A mother's likeness, O Mother, is rare
I saw people boast of height
And your height, how the palm trees longed for it
The beloved of flowers, if they were to give it a name
The mother's flower is the world's friend
If I say God... I say My mother
For me, her love is a glorious Lord
And for me, her embrace is the Gardens of Eternity
Why, O Lord, is this separation so long?
Return me... Do not prolong my longing
Beautiful is her nearness to me... beautiful.
**
My flag
Hail, my flag!
In the United Nations
You flourish with our cedar
Soaring to the peaks
The weeping red
I coloured it with my blood
And the complaining white
I sanctified it with my mouth
My land, though far away
My feet yearn for it
I run... but a grave
Of nothingness precedes me
Our ancestors planted
Glory from antiquity
And today, my homeland
My illness assassinates me
I came as a stranger
Fearing the idol
A dream overwhelms me
Oh, my dream!
At night, pride
And tomorrow, my pain
**
Ramadan... My month
In my Ramadan, I see humanity
Seeking refuge in God from Satan
If they fast for a month, fasting is an obligation
Or if they perform Hajj, a house radiates forgiveness
Hunger doesn't bother them when it invades
They feed on prayers and faith
They give the poor the alms of a pure life
So that the fragrance of benevolence may spread throughout the world
O Creator of the universe, this is my nation
Walking against creation and the universe
This is Arabism, exhausted by its wars
It has not interpreted religions well
So, the sectarian wolf's tongue
Howls, and evil becomes like a flood
If you are for piety, then with piety I may overcome Satan, O my Judge
What is the difference between me and people who believe
Their Gospel is to God like the Quran
What is the difference between me and a sincere neighbor
He honored humanity through humanity
What is the difference between me and all creation
If I do not speak their language with mine
If my lineage is that of Adam, woe to them
How can there be strife when we are like brothers?
My month is the month of love and piety
In its light, no two disagree
A month as if God were embodied in it
This is the testimony of a Christian believer
**
Oh, my people
Oh, my beloved people!
When lamentation overwhelms you,
Our bodies bow down,
And the sunset descends upon us.
Will Jerusalem be lost to us?
Is there no one among us to answer?
The kiss of the holy places was
From a crescent or a cross.
The Golan Heights are not
A tent sheltering the stranger.
This beloved land,
How can we allow it to be abandoned?
No leader has said, "Stop!"
From near or far?
Who will restore the right, tell me?
Our right is a wondrous inheritance.
**
Shadows
I walk... and behind me, shadows are violated
With their black lines, a question wanders:
Does the eye of poetry sleep soundly,
Its lids full,
While calamities strut upon its lashes?
The wailing grows weary of our lips, as if
From the very beginning,
Confusion has enveloped us.
Our lives are held hostage
By the preservation of positions
Of which a deceitful,
Self-serving leader reigns supreme.
Neglect yawns within our pulses,
So, neglect comforts us with its slumber.
We slumber... as if dawn were our enemy,
And toil a terrifying illusion and a calamity.
We have expertly ruminated on our silence,
So, it has grown ever more monstrous.
With our silence, actions go unheard.
Production within us has not been heard,
So, strength has waned,
And hopes have waned with it.
We suffer when happiness
Spreads across our lands,
And we groan when the right embraces the left.
Our virtues are endless... for one vice recedes,
And another descends upon us.
The purity of women is a tale;
If you tell it, beds and men will laugh at you.
In our Arab East, a rebel rises,
So that you may be guided.
With its light, generations
But it, with malice in its steps,
Captivates the conscience
And what the family desires
No revolution in the East has ever shone its light
Except that it was swallowed up
In the darkness by the measure
Our leaders, the path of treachery is their path
To lead us towards misguidance, misguidance
If they resolve, then treachery is in their resolve
And if they speak, then their saliva is cunning
Wretched is our time... For our land
In times of hardship, it has forsaken it Heroes
O poet whose words were crafted by God
Rebuke... so that words may restrain your people
You are strong in expression and resolve
And to you the evening gazes the heart
**
Iraqi
If the people of the Arabic language are illiterate,
The madness of calamities will befall them,
And bubbles and mythical filth
Will grow upon their necks and bodies.
We must heal and protect them,
For it is a disgrace to remain a mirage,
And it is a disgrace to live by morals
That we call heritage.
O land we abandoned in droves,
We erased the name to abolish Arabism.
We grew weary of it, we exposed it,
We rejected it,
We touched it, we found it to be a mirage.
We left it, and nothing remained but a tyrant
And herds of forgotten neglect.
His stick inflames shoulders with blows
And screams... to protect the thieves.
He shed tears to erase humiliations
And hide a game. In secret, religious garb
So, we became pawns in the hands of names
Christian, Sunni, and Shiite
He threw dollars into the pockets of deceit
To buy political ministries
And decreed that the people should taste pain
Whether from the south or the north
I am the outcast, O my land,
Will divine breezes show mercy
Upon the cedars?
And will any eye weep for our people
Now that the fires of war have become Syrian?
How many tears flow in the Nile from our eyes
And how many Euphrates-like sighs
Choke our throats?
We bled our abandonment, art and literature,
And customs we described as Eastern.
We toiled so that thought
Might remain responsible
For the people whose world is captive,
For the people thrown into prison,
As judgments are thrown into the mire.
Here, the media gives us without treachery,
So that poetry may become self-made verses.
Here, the media gives us illumination,
So that reason may remain radiant with morality.
Here, the media gives us spaces
Of pure freedom... freedom.
The letter soars in its heights like an eagle,
If spring leaves embrace it.
My pens and my dreams
Are the candles of the holiday,
So, will dreams be given
As a gift for the holiday?
And will a lyre yearn for the strings,
And the melody of the holiday
In the homelands be fiery?
Good luck... Don't say: "Its candles are ten."
For from our lives, we give to "Iraqi."
I repeat the name, intentionally,
So that I may sing:
Iraqi, Iraqi, Iraqi.
**
Party Leader
Like sheep, a partisan leads us
President, arrogant, wavering
Every day we salute our thief
He who steals the honour of the salute
He is a liar... and treachery runs in his veins
Even his breath is more deceitful than his words
He struts like a wild predator
But when fleeing, he is a rabbit
He is never quenched by water,
No matter how much he suffers
He drinks nothing but red blood
Like a prince, he lives in luxury in his palace
While poverty suffers in our huts
At his wedding, all creatures rejoice
And at our death, no honourable person mourns
For the people know he is a coward
Among them, insults and calamities are inflicted
But my people are kind and forgiving
And death comes so that the kind may suffer
**
One People
We are one people, an army for truth
We do not fear death,
No matter how fiercely it roars
No, by my Lord, we are not exaggerating
When we cry out:
We will sacrifice ourselves for you,
And we love death even more
This is Beirut, O Baghdad, weeping
Wipe away the tears, for tears are red
If you weep today, we weep every day
Every inch of you, O Baghdad, is precious
Your people, humanity, have become martyrs
Glorify God for him, for God is greater
When the heavenly religions mourned him
I thought that God
In the highest heavens glorifies
My poetry died when wars consumed us.
Tell me, if you hear the grave, does it feel?
Tell me, if you see the letter complaining,
It is my letter... shattered on my palm.
It is my voice...
And does the voice have an impact?
When I speak... like dreams that evaporate.
It is my heart,
O my heart, have mercy on me.
You, Baghdad, are more knowledgeable
About the oppressed.
It is my life... O life that has crumbled.
They all lived... and my death is inexplicable.
A group A treacherous force
Sweeps across my land
Resembling Satan, nay,
Even more cunning in evil
Killing children, taking innocent women captive
If we were to describe purity,
We would say: they are purer still
They declared us infidels after faith and piety
And forgot that they are the most unbelieving
In God,
Do not say: The fire is sweeping across the hills
It will not remain because the grass is green
It will not remain because truth is stronger
Than the evil one who detonated
His own evil among the people
Nineveh and Mosul, the verdant, have become
A revolution, to avenge the madness of hatred
A mighty army protected them, no He cares
He came to her today, victorious and triumphant
He came to her... and the ululations responded
Look at the devil, vanquished by faith
Look at him, writhing like black snakes
Beneath feet of steel, he is slaughtered
Displacement has terrified us,
O Baghdad, rise up,
So that you may bring back your weeping,
Displaced child
**
A Stranger's Writer
She sleeps... and in her eyes, a blue bird
With its smooth feathers, a radiant moon
The joy of the night dances in its pulse
And praises are poured out upon its ears
With its beauty,
Your Lord has not fashioned a bird
And with its love,
The whispers of time are suspended
This stranger, enlightened by his thought
Poetry perfumed with fragrance and lilies
His loved ones, count the minutes and rest
For you will see the places gazing at the stranger
No Do you think
That separation elevates his status?
For the earth, at the sound of his words, yearns.
Before his departure,
How the hills longed for him,
As rain... and a verdant dream blossoming.
She whispered to him, her limbs intoxicated:
Return, my beloved, for dew cannot be burned.
What did he care...
He bled pride into a poem,
And upon its meanings, a banner flew high.
His dreams are as vast as the horizon,
And his longing is a pain
That nests in the heart and burns.
He gave Happiness was their enemy,
So, they whispered amongst themselves,
Conspired, threatened, and tore each other apart.
Nothing could drive them
To the caravan of destruction,
Were it not for vice beckoning them to create.
Who said: The dawn of childhood will save them
From their folly, when their suns never rise?
They roamed...
And destroyed our crops and our families
With our spittle,
They aged the vinegar of leadership
And I felt his love and tenderness
How wonderful it would be
If they breathed in his air
They practiced virtue, unintentionally
And were inoculated with love, then tasted it
Our lives are not measured by days
And with the morning, we give away our lives
Our poets, our writers, our critics
They wove innocence into a cloak
And embellished it
They returned the poems For the tents,
their concern is that no fool
Should compromise authenticity
Their oar is a hand that tames their abandonment
And on their fingers, a boat wobbles
O son of Arabism, do not ask, for their eyes
Grow more enchanting when they are sleepless
So, write, my writer, do not fear, a poem
That the sunset and the sun
Have grown weary of hearing
Sing, may my Creator help you, in exile
For perhaps you will be liberated therein.
**
A Mother's Invitation
This is my hand, extended as an invitation,
That you may cross from your sorrow to my joy.
The paths of life have narrowed from your departure,
And separation hides your tears in my eyes.
My beloved children, do not make me taste separation.
Who else but you adorn my awakening?
Have you not seen my gray hairs vying with my temples,
And my cheeks ravaged by the shards of my tears?
Have you not seen my slow, weary gait,
And my chest heaving when my sighs rise?
Return to a bosom you will never find the like of,
Unless you come to the gardens of my paradise.
My only dream is to see your children,
And for my tent to resound with cries.
All the desired cries are silent,
And silence is an illusion that may prolong my scream.
My house is enraged by the dust of their absence,
And my love shrinks away without them.
Your children are my soul and the hopes of my tomorrow,
And my joy if you whisper: O my grandmother,
Do not deprive me of my Creator's gifts,
Do not imprison me in the mirrors of my loneliness.
They are my right and my left, and my hope.
They are my eyes and the comfort of my gaze.
I have placed their images on my hand,
So that my pillow may drink of their fragrance,
And my sheets may flourish with their shade,
And my fingertips and my kiss may be intoxicated.
It does not matter to me if an image disturbs my sleep,
For God sleeps in the corners of my room.
**
What has befallen you?
What has befallen you today, my homeland?
You live in a time outside of time?!
Extinguish with me a hatred that bleeds
So that I may banish the devil from my Aden
The devil of my land is a greedy merchant
Pleasing in the clouds of tobacco
His weights, no matter, are deficient
He weighed wealth, but not religion
His dollar is the hunger of the poor
Woe to him, a gluttonous merchant
I hung my heart in the darkness like a moon
Arabized, I entrusted my sorrow to it
And my poetry rubbed against the winds,
So they came blowing the fires in my trials
I traversed the deserts, my qibla a mountain
To which the swift ships yearn
I built a fortress upon the waves
To which the flower of cities longed
I seek no hope from my present
Unless I establish my dwelling upon the hills
I believed... Believe like me, O homeland
Whose rulers are from a pagan museum
The Lord is full of light... Woe to them
Drowning in the sea of disbelief and the rot
The people of the world, their price is gold
But my people are worthless
My eyes saw you, my beloved... No wonder
If they loved you and my ears rejoiced
I loved you for two lifetimes... Did longing
Gift you a lifetime that roamed within the body?
My soul has protected it since my creation
What has befallen you, love, that you did not protect it?!
Take the rest of my life, for there is no homeland
That is sweet... and no land that has embraced my shroud.
**
The Day of Our Departure
If, my sister, the day of our departure comes
From this land that has been blessed by us
Do not despair, for this world is not ours
Our abode is the sky, the meadow of light
You were a "universe" at the beginning of a word
And the spring of a pure monastery,
Sweet in its harvest.
"Madeleine," if you ever leave her, she will come
Lamenting the separation,
And I will seek her aid I am
"Madeleine," your sister, or travel companion.
Does anything but the (Mejana)
Intoxicate the sparrow?
You bestowed upon me sanctity in my exile,
So, I wove from my sanctity
The sweetest of worlds.
And I dedicated myself to sanctity, a poet.
Be my intercessor on the day we meet our Lord.
I swear, when departure stirs its sails,
History will record: They passed by here!
**
Gibran
The day I won the Gibran International Prize 1987
-1-
Gibran... O Gibran, why are you silent?
While idle chatter numbs the ears
And the land is being slaughtered by depravity,
As if it intoxicates its followers
With the blood of innocence
No master remains among us in his livelihood
Our peasant has abandoned the vineyards...
And sold them.
The rabble has defiled the letter...
So, you will not see a letter like yours,
Shining and radiant
-2-
Gibran... If you do not give me
From His radiance a radiance,
So, the lights will never grow accustomed to me
This ambassador,
The protector of the people, beware
"Latif Abu Alhusn" is overflowing with gentleness
So, look at him, seated in majesty
All kingdoms crumble before him
He is our pride, our beloved,
And our ambassador
If his hand shines, the day awakens
-3-
"Attar... Samar" Writing alone
Shows its pride if eternity reads a book
For it is the sister,
Even if I am deprived O sister,
Motherhood pours forth fragrances,
She is the noble one, even when ego is high,
She is the honourable one, captivating hearts,
And thought, after you, is weary in its journey,
If not for the ink of her literature,
-4-
"Numan Harb," the Hatemi, in love,
And brilliance, affection, and struggle,
He has gone to gather
From the fields of our letters,
Wheat to pollinate minds with harvests,
The blackness of the eyes has slept Tomorrow
Its lights brought us "Anjelle aoun"
That literary woman in our exile,
When she spoke... hearts spread the words
-5-
Poetry... unless embraced by bonds
Became a writer for the leader
And its thoughts became confused and clashed
And they climbed it for ambitions and positions
For poetry, since the beginning,
Is a revolution of a nation
That came to ignite demands in souls
And poetry, what is in poetry of Immortal,
Unless tyrants kill his talents.
-6-
No… I do not covet prizes, for in competition
They are but temptation and vanity.
And I embraced you
The day my ear of corn sprouted leaves,
And vows matured in Orpheus.
All this fragrance is not from our flowers,
Nor even the lights and incense.
The path is yours…
If you examine the footsteps,
We were walking in the footsteps of the Prophet.
-7-
Believe, O Gibran: Every poet
Regurgitates his words. Stupidity... fades away
Indeed, in the land of exile, we ignite our poetry
So that remnants may die
In the land of our ancestors
And I have written a poem
About a homeland when I say:
Lebanon, on the horizon, has built a dwelling
Sydney sang of it, and minds chose it
**
Beirut
O Beirut, do not hesitate
Say: I love you,
So that my tomorrow may embrace me,
If you knew how much separation torments me,
You would open your arms and end my wandering
I have spent my life like the wind, a wanderer
But your face has always been my destination
You promised me!
I am still waiting for the meeting
And my soul yearns to embrace the stars
My fingers long to touch the stars
Is the first meeting in space?
Since I mastered speech,
You have been my poem,
Come, sing...
What is poetry if you do not sing?
Your arts shone like the suns in their brilliance,
They imitated you...
But you did not imitate them
My letters slept and awoke as stars
O pearl of creativity... your name is my glory,
All cities have lost their address
Except you, Beirut...
O tattoo of the hand
Religion with you is mercy and love
Who can blame me if I take you as my temple?
Cities bowed down to tyrants in flattery
But to the Lord of the Universe...
You did not bow down.
The histories of nations concealed their texts
When they saw in you the celebration of my glory,
I have loved you... since my smile shone forth:
You were love, and your love was my master
**
Jerusalem
O Jerusalem, cradle of light,
Tell me, how did the prophets come?
You are a radiant blessing to the world,
A kiss... when the pious supplicate.
If I call upon God, I call humbly,
In the realms of truth, supplication resounds.
Cities are built, then their light fades,
But you revive the histories of eternity.
For generations, you have been the hope,
O my hope, how can annihilation befall you?!
Your holy name has become a song
Rising above the lips of the pure
No medicine can cure the affliction
A touch from you... and the cure comes
Ah, melody of the pure heart
I am enamoured with you,
And in my breast is misery
If I speak... my words are painful:
How did we become wretched nations?
Glory once gazed around us
And we quarrelled like fools
I wiped the tears from my cheeks so that
You wouldn't say I love to weep
I am a son of Jerusalem...
Who is like me?
The great ones sing of my existence
**
Makkah
O Makkah of the Holy Places... I know not
Am I in the presence of God or in this world?
I came to the sanctuary, tears like rivers on
My cheeks... And dreams surpass my hopes.
No sooner had I prostrated
Upon the land of the Chosen One
Till life itself boasted and joy flowed.
God is Greatest...
I said it with anticipation,
For one day I will meet our Lord.
The white-clad pilgrims
Circumambulator the Kaaba,
Adorned, which only flourishes with us.
We came to it, every heart a dwelling place.
Come, dwell, O Qibla, in our hearts.
Who said I would distance myself from you,
O House of Guidance?
No, I will not distance myself...
I remain here.
**
Baghdad Media
Baghdad Festival Chosen as Capital of Arab Media
Baghdad, you are the letter and the pen
Have mercy on us...
How did pain overwhelm you?
All the dark wars have vanished
Had you not returned,
Nations would have perished
Here you are, returned today, majestic
May the horrors and the flames cease
O Pearl of the Two Rivers,
Is there any homeland but yours
Whose name is feared by nothingness?
The light of journalism is from our artistry,
And poetry, literature, and wisdom,
And music without strings,
And the voice would not yearn for melody.
Our history remains our reference,
From it we have enriched ourselves,
And antiquity has enriched us.
We are free Iraq in a land
Where deeds and words elevate us.
Every hand is generous,
Like dew, blessings frequent it.
This is me with an elite that has grown,
We came, perhaps the smile will return.
We, the bewildered, are still sick,
With a glance, the sickness may end.
Who like us has sung of you on a journey?
From our poetry, the idol may speak.
By God, O Baghdad, you are with me,
When I met you, weariness left me.
Do not grieve, relief will come to you,
Much good, said the rain.
Baghdad for the media! Rejoice!
From us to us, values have returned.
You are culture, O our city!
Rise up, so that knowledge may soar above you!
**
Damascus
This is Damascus, the city of love and splendour,
In her, roses and basil roam.
I loved her from the day she was created,
A beautiful dream that even sleeplessness feared.
I gifted her poems from books,
In her, our ancestors preceded the world.
O Damascus, I have loved no other homeland but
Whose inhabitants are glory itself,
If only they could speak.
We were created as hope for humanity,
We run so that the horizon may run after us.
They extinguished the lantern in joy,
And stole the radiance from our celebrations.
You are the white stars in the twilight,
Were it not for you, no,
It would not clear. The twilight
And the sun, you are Damascus, my country
Who said that the sun burns?
The sea is your love, and I am the beloved
How often I drowned, and drowning spared me
**
Rabat
Here I come, sweet Morocco, rejoice!
O poetry, be joyful like the refreshing air!
I courted beloved cities within it,
I confided a secret to them...
My eyes might betray me.
This is Rabat, the love of a devoted heart.
I swear to God, Rabat, search for me!
I sang your glory in all the lands of exile.
I kept you awake through the days...
Spread your name upon my heart.
I loved your name...
And the letters are witnesses.
I extended my hand so that you might inscribe it.
Do not look at my face, for I am weeping.
These are the harbingers of my joy,
Do not be ashamed.
A house, white, its colour enchanted me.
Uncover its origin, O sun, with light.
And the axe, like a diamond,
Shone with brilliance.
And the diamond, a symbol of glory,
Will not be bribed.
A throne upon which the kingdom springs.
A virtue,
I run towards it like thirsty earth
**
Dubai
Dubai has become a dream in my time.
Do dreams ever become public?
This emirate is one of our wonders
I loved it, I called it my homeland
The sand is gold, and the air is fragrance
And I built my dwelling from fragrance
Gardens of eternity trodden by humans
Walking in silence, out of mercy for the body
I will not name them, for fear that
Glories will compete in "Aden"
Or that the birds will become confused
Among the flowers and the green of the branches
This is Dubai, may God protect it
And aid it in the most difficult trials
The waves are raging And I am the sail
Who else but her do my ships yearn for?
I sang your name,
O Dubai, as the letter "ḍād"
And the ear delight in.
You are the star, and you are our (qibla)
So, gaze upon me, O pearl of cities.
**
Tunisia
I entrusted my heart to you... Guard
My heart... For I am Tunisian
O green Tunisia, I will never
Forget the narcissus's celebration
It wove with fragrance
A garment of splendor for you to wear
You protected the land with dignity
And refused to be politicized
Your people are a mighty force
So be enthusiastic
Extend to them hands of happiness
Without them, you would not breathe
They give you from the sweat of their toil
Their bounty, so that you may find solace
Never You drink not loyalty,
But glory; please drink!
Who is like a pure people,
Protecting the holy land?
You have become worship and piety;
Who said you will not be sanctified?
Tunis... if the world grows jealous
I beg you... don't be apprehensive
The time has come, my love
To be proud with love
You are the princess and my heart's desire
And my heart is the throne... so sit down
No lover will ever love you like me...
For this is my wedding ring!
**
Baghdad
Baghdad, you are my beloved...
Do not be ashamed.
Since existence, you were created for me,
O Baghdad.
I loved your face... and love is a tale.
Like blood, it flowed through my joints.
I painted the streets with the beautiful twilight.
I thought the streets held my fingertips.
How many poems of our love the breeze sang.
And my homes rose high above the hills.
I swear by your love...
no homeland is adorned
Except with the tears of the eye.
You will not wear kohl
No, I will not forget the day
I came to you, enamored
And my streams danced near the Euphrates
And the waves of the Tigris whispered: Here I am
Water of happiness... linger with me
I entrusted to you a childhood that delights
To claim my emotions and my contemplation
I wrote my name on the lip of morning
I am the son of Iraq... I am... if you ask
No matter how far I go...
I will not prolong my wandering
So, shine, adorn yourself, and be pampered
For I am I believe this wonderful verse:
"There is no love but for the first love."
**
O Egypt
O Egypt, you are the mother...
O my mother, hear me
My ribs are heavy with longing
This Nile is not all one river
For I have given the Nile the course of my tears
If the pyramids could speak of pure love
You would know
That my heart has not left with me
The son of the migrant is drowning in his sorrow
Since I embraced the earth,
My pain has vanished
A smile shone on the lips of loved ones
I thought the stars had fallen in haste
O mother of the world... Is what I see true?
Do the lands hear the sound of my supplication?
Extend your hands gently to your beloved,
He who does not attain glory is not a creator.
Behold, I have poured love into the fragrance
Of a poem,
So, revel in love, then be pampered.
The sun has set, and Arabism has darkened.
From where will the light come
If you do not shine?
You are the strong one,
Even if a spiteful one intrudes,
The eagle protects the land so that you may reign.
O Egypt, you are both word and art,
Your melodious tunes have enriched my ears.
All the nightingales in your lands have sung,
And the universe listens in all four directions.
I love you, I said it as a wanderer,
And today I come to say it with reverence.
Be as you are, an embrace of motherhood,
Who will gather the children
If you do not gather them?
**
Amman
Greetings, Amman, my melody!
The most beautiful name upon my lips!
I offer you poems in prostration,
From every verse my pen is nourished.
Longing has tormented my heart for so long,
I thought separation fed on my weariness.
I slumber with the hope of return... When will
I awaken here, my spirits revived?
The morning sun was angered by regret
When I poured out my remorse before it
O Jordan of loved ones, grant me a hand
Like magic, to erase the alienation of pain
Your cubs... glories know them
Their names are more sublime than words
Fire cannot overcome a hero
Stronger than terrorism and nothingness
The dewdrops became flames
When he redeemed his homeland with his blood
This is my beloved... He said it and wept
It matters not to me if I die, O my flag
I desire for you a glory that is ever joyful
Priding proudly among the flowers and the peaks
The people are my people. and I am the martyr
The throne of the Pleiades
Is the culmination of my dream
My resolve is strong, confident,
And my tomorrow
Has shattered the sighs with lava
The son of Arabism, his face is rain
You will not defeat faith, my idol
Tell me. I am coming to cities
I loved them. I entrusted them with my values
I am coming to Amman from my weariness
Say: Welcome. O adornment of nations
**
Mazraat El Chouf
These green lands are my garden,
Given my life and my family name,
"The Chouf" is my adoration,
And I offer it the candle of my prayers.
Neither religion nor homeland matters to me,
Its blood flows within my veins.
Its family is my family,
And my beloved is the soil,
Sprinkling the Pleiades over my valleys.
Its courtyards and plains are my dwelling,
And the water flows through my canals.
No, I did not flatter when I said to it:
I will not wear the colours of my masks.
This is me, O Chouf, is regret
Enough, to erect my vaults in you?
Coming like children from a journey,
Eager, and the wind is my sails.
I am forever in love,
As one of the Baini family,
I have entrusted to it the sanctity of my soil.
O Mejdlaya, record my joy,
Only for it has my hat been raised.
**
Sultan Pasha Al-Atrash
At the moment of victory,
Chant the name of the great one and sing
O nation that delights in the sound
Of death and dispersal
Hail with your poetry a knight
Who drove away the enemy with his sword
The highest mountains embrace him
Sing and chant for the earth
France bowed its head
When it met the unifier
No, I will not forget a cry
In which is the flame of my glorification:
No invader will remain among us
O land of my ancestors, bear witness
Sultan Pasha, his glory
Entered time with majesty
Who is like him,
Who protected the sanctuary
So, that the sun may shine in my tomorrow
O most beautiful of names, tell me
Who paralyzed the nerves of the hand?
Who displaced the people
Whom you brought to the stars?
I call out to the deaf
So that my temples may respond
For disbelief has become master
And God alone is my master
**
Naifé
To the soul of the loving mother, Naifé Abou Hamad, mother of my dear friend, Dr. Bahia Abou Hamad:
Oh, Naifé...
I never complained of my sorrows
But one sorrow brought me to tears
I never knew your death was so painful
If it weren't for Bahia's grief, it would have consumed me
The fire of motherhood's death never dies
And tears have drained the very lifeblood
From my body
The sun of your daughter, oh God, has darkened
Tell the Creator of the universe to listen:
I, the loving one, will not forsake my daughter
I, the mother, remove my shroud
**
No, you did not die
Abdul Wahab Al-Bayati Festival
No, you did not die...
For the name lives on among us
Majestic... traversing all places
A select group shone in Sydney
Granting you the glories of time and space
Abdul Wahab, our beloved, in exile
Gifted you a verdant heart to dwell within us
Who else but you,
Will generations recite his poetry
So that beautiful words may fill our eyes?
Poisonous tongues hissed near you
But you silenced them with noble character
And the envious inflicted upon you
A painful injustice
But you defeated them...
And exposed the face of the cursed
Sick... but who can cure their malice?
The sun of believing minds
Has disbelieved in them
Each one desires primacy as a centre
Seeking to ride our people like horses
The arrogant race towards positions
From the abundance of greed,
They have become putrid
He gives you a smile...
If you raise his banner
And if you refuse...
Then from him comes devilry
O "Ibn al-Bayati"...
Do not ask about the possible
Your eloquent poems are not possible
You are the great, the creative,
The noble, the strong
If you do not believe my cry... look here
They came to you today,
Bless their gathering
Free as their declared intentions
Gaze upon them...
Their foreheads are the mountain peaks
And the lofty brow refuses domination
Like orphans I came to weep for a companion
O tear of poetry, be Sadness
I burn on the embers of love
This is me...
Do you still remember who I am?
**
Ahed Tamimi
Earth Festival - Sydney 2018
Ahed Tamimi has become a beacon of hope
The daughter of the brave shook the mountains
My heart is in turmoil with longing
With fire I crafted poetry and verses
The Arab nation was overcome with fear
When they saw her, they cowered in shame
A slap against the enemy's face resounded
Like thunder, like a volcano, it erupted
Imprisoned, and the prison trembles
From its fear that she will become an example
No president has been shaken by pain
No king has spoken or acted
Their glories were raised with lies
Khisra Anu Shirwan has departed
For the sake of tainted money
They betrayed nations... They practiced deceit
We lived through nights shrouded in lethargy
Ahed Tamimi trampled the lethargic
Joan of Arc. they said: her sword is pain
And the shield is a tear that has aged the eyes
And the name our banner has become today
In every land it has risen and soared
Her cries have increased our pain
But she knew no fear
And the tears kissed the cheek in haste
No tears precede haste
But the tears of "Al-Ahd" are waiting
To drink from her cheek the honey
No, you will not say: Her face is a moon
What does a full moon matter to her,
Even if it is perfect
For the sun was jealous of her radiance
And poetry sang her name in love
And Jerusalem said: This is my joy
Like "Al-Tamimi" I have not found a man
Our descriptions, O "Ahd", are incomplete
Unless she calls you: O heroine
**
Rifaat Ebied
Professor Rifaat Ebied Honoured in the New South Wales Parliament by Dr. Bahia Abou Hamad
I have waited so long to sing to you,
And poetry, all poetry I dedicate to you,
O Rifaat, the names in a homeland,
With the soul,
The letter "Dhad" is sacrificed for you.
You are Al-Ebiedi, season and harvest,
All seasons have blossomed in you.
In the Parliament of Truth,
The sun of (Bahia) has shone,
To greet you.
Who is like her, her guiding light forever:
Honour, for God will reward you.
Some nights were visited by the moon,
And the sun shone in your nights.
Sydney, if you speak of literature,
Its generations sang your rhymes.
By God, she has not been stingy with anyone,
All gifts are from your hands.
If you ask the pyramids about lineage,
Great Egypt is from your people,
It boasts The Nile of glory rejoices
Arise and meet it,
For it has come to quench your thirst
Even Arabism in our exile
O my teacher, now calls out to you
You met us with light on our journey
And today we have come to meet you
In our chests are hearts and veins
If you wish, we will give you this heart
You taught us, you gifted us pearls
Whatever we do, we will never repay you
**
Ahmed Alyasiry
On the occasion of his winning the Charbel Baini Award 2018
If you were to compose poetry, my support,
You would love poetry that will last forever.
The son of Iraq, "Alyasiry," sang
In my exile, for love... for the homeland.
Tell him what you will of literature,
In the arena of literature, like a lion,
He bestowed glory upon the letters with pride,
Unbowed in the depths of complexity.
For poetry, with "Alyasiry" has become
A sea, without sand or foam.
Humble, yet forever
Like dew, hopeful for tomorrow.
O "Ahmed," of the lineages, you are here
Like a rock, protecting the letter from dispersal.
I fear, yes, I fear for you,
That the gossiper will slander you with envy.
**
Asmahan
Asmahan Commemoration Festival at Dr. Bahia Abou Hamad's Salon 2019
O Asmahan, your voice has revived you
You are the princess, and fragrance is your world
Amal Fahd from the mountains of Arabia,
Did the heart of the East call you by name?
For the name is a source of pride for the world,
O star that shone here...
Thanks to the one who named you
You surpassed all creation with a magical melody,
Like the song of birds in the heavens
What is the beloved "Al-Atrash"
But a nickname that shone like light on wires?
This is Farid Al-Atrash,
Whose pride is in the splendour of his melodies.
Vienna... and what joy could there be
In a night there
If you didn't wish for a lifetime in your presence?
Even the birds whispered in paradise,
Saying to the Lord of the universe,
"How sweet you are!"
All hearts Her desires changed
When you commanded the heart to love you
Behold, Egypt has given you a warm cradle
And the Nile has covered you with glories
No, you did not die in the folds of a canal
For the water embraced you
At "Al-Bahia" we gathered together
Our joys...no,
They would not have been without you
We have not forgotten the notes
Of the songs...our fear
In the hustle and bustle of work,
That we might forget you
And the voice sings despite the distance
Indeed, in Sydney, we have raised your banner
How many nations have perished in their graves
They vanish...but your memory remains eternal
**
Marcel Khalife
A tribute to the artist Marcel Khalife at the New South Wales Parliament by Senator Shaoquett Moselmane 2019
Marcel, you are art, and I am poetry
Take from the houses of poetry
And build our homeland
You are the great, the unique...
You are the beginning
If you walk, time walks behind you
For the (oud), were it not for your sweet,
Melodious playing
Has become a decoration in the corners of places
Play with abandonment...
Make the strings dance...
Who like "Khalifa" can heal our wounds?
All the anthems you sang
Lived within us...
Until we possessed our dream
If the days are unjust, your art is a refuge
If our voice is lost, it remains our voice
I always yearn for my mother's bread
But the tyrant steals our wheat
No, do not fear, sing, for you The Hopeful One
From the mothers of melody comes our bread
I walk, but my stature is not upright
For the body, after abandonment,
Is bent by weariness
Were it not for you,
We would have lost the path to sanctuary
For the path, O "Marcel,"
Has been erased by oblivion
We have abandoned the land like a ship
Look at us, we have filled our sea
Aamchit, O Aamchit, be a note
So that the notes may rejoice since the (Megana)
You gifted us a beloved, pioneering son
Sang so that we may remain...
So that our cedar may remain
Lebanon... what is Lebanon but paradise
If we throw it with fire... our Lord will be angry
Jerusalem is lost... do not ask about our "Kibla"
No leader has been troubled by our Jerusalem
You sang of it...
Oh, if only you had hidden it with melody,
With tunes So that it may remain with us
If only they had weakened my enemy once
So that I might kiss the head of one of our Arabs
But they have covered the horizon with lies
And lies are salt... Ah, our salts!
Rejoice... On Valentine's Day you are honoured
For love with abandonment is one of our customs
This noble, brilliant "Senator"
In the parliament of truth,
He has become our pride
Shaoquett sacrifices... Who sacrifices like him?
The son of the South, the "Moselmane," is our son
I offer you, "Marcel," a world of fragrance
Enter... How magnificent you would be
If you stayed here
You came to us to dispel alienation
Thank you... You have now taken up residence
In our hearts
**
Father Yousif
Book Signing by Father Yousif Jazrawy 2016
I knew him... the cross upon his chest
And his noble letter under his command
So, I said, "O my feelings, sing!"
For his melody is measured like his poetry
And his line is as if it were our path
And we walk in the lines of his line
Iraq groaned from his absence
And I thought it afflicted like its bird
Boats assassinate half its people
And the thief slumbers in the corners of his palace
Baghdad, a tear flows in the eyes
But it is a volcano at his mention
He came to life as a priest and a scholar
And a writer... blessed in his journey
If he spoke, the hands of time would stop
And if he wept... his tears flowed like a stream
O Mar Melis, you preserved him
So that He ascends
The glory of the highest heavens is adorned
With his thought
Blessed are you, blessed, a just leader
The meadow of flowers rejoices in his fragrance
O Mar Melis, you did not ask about sovereignty
You became a symbol, our pride is from his pride
You are the great one, shining high
Jesus has given you the light of his dawn
O Joseph... our stars revolve in his sky,
And our well is like his well
And we do not betray him as brothers
For his name shines despite his oppression
His prayer is like his heart, like his love
Like a smile that appears above his lips
It is said that doctrines have become heretical
How wonderful it would be
If they believed in his heresy
You would think his letters were churches
Their fragrance wafts Like his ink
Even candles cannot dim before him
When Baghdad lined up
The candles of his monastery
I love him with an unyielding love
Like a father, I strengthen his back
No, I do not fear the spiteful chatterer
If he covered beauty
With the blackness of his deceit
I fear for him from a reckless pride
That humbled all who fell captive to him
He has the right to revel in his grandeur
So that he may trample
Upon the nose of his abandonment.
**
O Guardians of Poetry
To the poets George Abou Antoun, Elias Khalil, and Antoine Saade
O Guardians of Poetry,
O Symbol of Pride
You have transcended
The boundaries of belonging
A parliament opens today... Rejoice
My words, to embrace the poets
If you have gathered... this is your day
O guests of glory, O hand of generosity
You have struck the drum of verse
And sung... Ah, how sweet is the song
Before you came to us... our tears
Told The world is inhabited,
Yet we are wretched.
Pains engulf a good people,
Laughing despite tragedies and calamities.
No... "Sydney" taught us to be aware
How to wipe the tears
From our eyes.
My Lord's cedar,
When you trampled our abandonment,
He said, "I have sent light to the abandonment."
You are the noble ones, O voice of the horizon,
You came to the world,
And the noble ones came with you.
You, "Antoun," are addressing my nation,
O "Saade," you have increased
The purity of poetry.
My nation lives a difficult life,
I do not know how happiness will come to it.
No, and faithful. His friend chooses him
You are "Elias Khalil" of the loyal
Long live "George" the chosen captain
No, by my Lord,
You are the sheikh of presidents
Return to poetry the days gone by
Most poetry is the work of foolishness
They consider poetry trivial talk
Chatter that has bewildered the wise
You have been generous...
So blessed is the splendour
For "Bahia" is her name,
The twin of splendour
If you return to our land, tell her:
She is blood that flows in the veins
**
Muhammad Mahdi al-Jawahiri
Muhammad Mahdi al-Jawahiri Poetry Tribute Festival 2017
We have come to you, Baghdad, so stand tall
For the sake of a noble and generous people
Enough of their woes, time
If I were to speak of them,
My anger would overwhelm me
We have come to you after oppression,
From a journey
To plant poetry in books
The captivating jewel
Is carried by a name
That boasts of lineage throughout life
No, it has not died, it still accompanies us
Like water accompanies the clouds
I fear the remnants of treachery will veil it
Can it be veiled? Creativity? Amazing!
I heard a voice I mistook for a melody,
So, I said: O Damascus, rejoice!
This is my father,
From the day the ear of the nights heard
The cry of the meteors,
"Mahdi," and the Lord protected him
Despite the harm from the informer
And the fool.
O nation led by an idol,
Draw near to the mercy of the Judge.
There are no peoples who have not tasted pain,
But they rose from the flames.
Their history... their glories are literature,
Except you, O our Arab history.
My people...
And are my people anything but sheep
For slaughter, like cockroaches? Terrified
If the sun rises on my homeland
The rulers will assassinate it with lies
If I had even a quarter of the power
I would set them ablaze with fire and wood
You are the Great One, O Muhammad,
Shall I be butted upon wood?
No, I will not measure a stature
That has captivated
My heart,
And before which my domes have settled
You were far from your home,
Do you know that I carry my weariness?
Wherever I turn, my exile is pain
Oh, how I wish you would come to my exile
Our titles... I wish they were erased
For poetry is lost today in the title
You are "Al-Jawahiri"... You are here
More precious than diamonds and gold
**
Magdi Boulos
A tribute concert for the artist Magdi Boulos at New South Wales Parliament by Dr. Bahia Abou Hamad
Magdi, great artist, rejoice!
O Egypt, sing today and be glad!
He gave music the great voices,
And they were enraptured!
O eyes of the envious, be slaughtered!
“Umm Kulthum” came to him like a song,
Its melody is wine without a cup,
And diamonds flow over a fingertip,
She annihilated the tear of sorrow
With her playing,
For the wound in its melodies is hope,
O splendour of melodies, be wounded!
And the Nile, the river of goodness He adores it
And the head rises above the date palm
O our coming glory in our exile
Colour us a rainbow
Guide the artist's steps on his journey
Make him a star without adornment
The radiant one, a note that resounded
Say: O beautiful one of art, sweep away
The name is a treasure and passion a string
O treasures of the universe, open up
Is Boulos lives for our nation?
And the people weep for the phantom's tyranny
Your singing strings Revive him
Pour upon him a cloud of joy
Your precious honour honours us
O medals of glory, prostrate yourselves
For the chest, like the pyramids, is its source
Prostrate yourselves upon the marble of the chest
Magdi... does the glory have a homeland?
O Muse of Poetry... Praise him.
**
Abu al-Tayeb al-Mutanabbi
Commemorating Abu al-Tayeb al-Mutanabbi at Dr. Bahia Abou Hamad's Salon 2016
Your day is certain, today
"Mutanabbi," and you excel
O Abu al-Tayeb, wait
Here, disbelief prevails
Here, war has raged
Here, death is relentless
We no longer fear satire
The slaves have wreaked havoc on the land
We live each day
Our tears are a celebration of sorrow
No child has come from among us
Who feared our world
We have destroyed what we built
While the West builds
An oppressor grows ever more powerful Injustice
This is what the East desires
I seek a great people
Unblemished by dams
Fearing no borders
The unity of the land is the border
The most beautiful melodies fade
When the anthem is assassinated
O great one, you have attained glory
You are a martyr for poetry
We have found you strong
A thousand camphor’s can destroy
We have read you as wise
Generous with tales
No base person has attained honour
No miser has profited
If death has claimed you for an age
All that you said is new
**
Magdy Al Hussainy
A tribute concert for the artist Magdy Al Hussainy at the New South Wales Parliament by Dr. Bahia Abou Hamad, 2018
El-Husseini came bearing a string
We were, and separation was expected
Sydney... and colourful birds
Revealed a secret that was hidden
He who accompanied the glories is now here
O Egypt, the mind is bewildered
Abdel Halim is in joy today
Who said that "the slave" has been buried?
No great one has a stone above him
But we removed the stone with loyalty
This is "Bahia," her hand is generosity
In her, the rhymes crafted pearls
And the Parliament... the rule in a country
For her sake, roses were scattered
O master of melodies, this is me
I am not capable before the playing
Poetry is like a cluster His wine
Press it for us... for the cup has commanded
He whose wound is not healed by melody
Is like one who has become drunk on water
You are the one who, if you wish, can gladden us
Won't you remove the sorrow and distress?
The harshness of the singing disturbs us
In it is the dissonance of the drum if it is broken
For the foolish clamour kills us
And our hearing has burst from its rhythm
Welcome to an art that is eternal
That has captivated my heart
And the hearts of people
Magdy... if the pyramids stand tall
You were their colours and images
And the Nile knows where its source is
No, I will not exaggerate...
It has grown great in you
And the melody...
from you the melody is astonished
You deposited it in the universes and it spread
And the organ... You are the organ... O king
You have revived within us Hearing and sight
Tell them, when you return home, that
the art of "Arabism" has triumphed here
**
Saïd Akl
Commemorating Saïd Akl at Dr. Bahia Abou Hamad's Salon
O "Akl," you are the letter
And the word were it not for you,
Nations would not have heard of us
From the tear of the grape cluster,
You crafted for us great poetry
That even generosity feared
O "Zahle," you were the dream on a journey
That circled the world... the foot did not tire
This is "Saïd," his voice is a lesson
Even the deaf listen to it
His poems, his literature, a mountain
Where meters and melodies are frequented
Cadmus conversed with the letter,
And the hands of humanity embraced
What wisdom had wrought
You honoured him, you gave him joy
Until the peaks crumbled before him
O Jerusalem, a star cried out, shining
Fairuz... when the pyramid applauded
Jerusalem is lost, our people are sheep
Out of fear, even sheep would be ashamed
You sang Makkah, its people, rose high
Above the Pleiades...
Its light is the Sacred Precinct
Tell me: Why does a homeland end
Where proverbs and values lived?
Our Lebanon, O "Akl,"
You are its shield,
Why does the idol rule?
Look at it... its face is disgust
And lava erupts in its jaws
We have despaired of our dispersal
Weariness has enveloped us in exile
Look at us, our gray hair is regret
Have mercy... Regret may be of no use
No, you did not die,
You did not come from nothingness
When nothingness embraced you, it awoke
You are still alive among us forever
O cedar, by which knowledge is sweet
**
Adib Al-Beaini
I know not how to complain, Adib
The world has bled wounds that will not heal
O “Beaini” of the horizon,
We are not a mirage
Or dust, or sand, to be melted
We are surely the sons of the white rocks
Its head is close to the Garden of Eternity
We are one people, kneeling before God
All of us, in my homeland,
Are beloved neighbours
No Druze, no Christians, no discord
Ask Islam about us, it may answer
You have always given the land glory
So, it became independent,
And the stranger departed from it
The cedars sang a melody for the heroes
You are the rhythm
And the wondrous melody in it
Ah, son of the Shouf,
Is my poetry enough for you?
You are from me;
You are my soul…
You are my cousin.
**
Zaghloul Al-Damour
Commemorating the poet Zaghloul Al-Damour at Dr. Bahia Abou Hamad's salon
As long as you are the meter
And the most sublime poetry
No, I will not be satisfied with impromptu speech
Our Zaghloul... no creator like you has come
You sang poetry that eternity may sing
How many poets have come
And we paid them no heed
No sooner had they spoken
Than they yawned or faded away
No sooner had they spoken
Than our ears grew weary
And poetry itself tasted shame from their verses
Except you, O star of the night and the darkness
We listen to you for a lifetime,
Fearing no weariness
Our Damour, our Lebanon, our shores
Weep for the bitter departure,
O pride of the mountain
Sydney, if you console her, O "Hashemi"
She complains of the groaning of the other...
Tell me, what is to be done?
Here are the companions of the path,
The friends of Loyalty
They shower the coffin with thousands of kisses
Rise and bid farewell to your companions,
This is their gathering
At "Al-Bahia," their poetry
Is the tears of their eyes
A painful sorrow... if you heard their moans
You would weep like a child
From the overflowing grief
If you ask the cedars about their sparrow
They will point to the young one
So, the partridge may listen
A whistle, if it whistles, delights
To steal ears, or to give honey
For the voice is a wonderful, inspired voice
And the poetry is like pearls in the sea of hope
We love you... if we were asked once
We would answer without thinking: Yes
We love you, a shining poet
And love among the absent is without deceit
We love you, do not ask, my poet
Since we met, it has circled in the air Love Poetry
Joseph, tell me, how does death come to you?
And glory is you... and you are the young poet of folk songs.
**
