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A letter from exile
Mahmoud Darwish Greetings and a kiss, and I have nothing else to say after this Where do I begin?..And where do I end? And time just cycles infinitely All I have in my exile is a lunchbox, in it is a dry piece of bread, and yearning And a journal that shoulders some of my burden I spat in its pages whatever bitterness tightened my chest Where do I begin? And all that is said, and will be said, does not end with a hug... or a touch It will not return the exiled home Nor will it make rain fall Nor will it grow feathers on the broken wing of a lost, fatigued bird Where do I begin? Greetings....a kiss....and furthermore... 2 I say to the radio..tell her I am fine I say to the bird If you bump into her, oh bird, then don’t forget me and say: fine I am fine I am fine Sight is still in my eyes! The moon is still in the sky! And my dress, till now, has not been fully wrecked Its sides tore But I patched it up..and it’s still fine And I became a young man in his twenties Imagine that..I am in my twenties! And I became like other young men, ma! confronting life and carrying stresses like men do And I work! In a restaurant....I wash dishes And make coffee for the customer And paste smiles upon my sad face so the customer is happy 3 I am fine I am in my twenties And I am like other young men, ma! I smoke tobacco, and lean on a wall I say to the pretty girls “hey“ like others say “Brothers, how sweet are girls! Imagine how bitter life would be without them..so bitter Is life” And my friend said “Do you have a loaf of bread? Brothers, what is the value of human life if one goes to bed every night....hungry?” I am fine I am fine I have a loaf of wheat bread And a small basket of veggies 4 I heard on the radio greetings of the homeless...to the homeless Everyone said: We are all fine! No one is sad; So, how is my dad? Is he still the way he’s always been, likes to remember God, children, soil and olives? And how are my brothers Are they all employed? I heard my dad once say they will all become teachers... I heard him say “I’ll buy them books even if I go hungry” No one in my village can make out a single letter in an a speech And how is our sister? Has she grown....does she have any suitors? And how is my grandmother? Is she still like she’s always been, sitting by the door praying for goodness, for youthfulness, and reward for us? And how is our house? the smooth front step, the fire pit, and the doors? I heard on the radio, messages of the homeless...to the homeless They are all fine! But I am sad almost consumed by suspicions, The radio did not relay a single piece of news about you Even if a sad one Even if a sad one 5 Night, oh ma, is a ravenous, murderous, wolf It chases the exiled wherever he goes It opens the horizon to the ghosts and the forest of willow trees still hugs the winds What have we reaped, oh ma? For us to die twice once in life and once while we’re alive Do you know what fills me with tears? Imagine I got sick one day...and sickness wore me down! Will the night remember? An exiled that came...and did not return home? Will the night remember An exile who died without a shroud? Oh forest of willow trees! will you remember that the one they threw under your sad shadow like any other dead thing, is human? Will you remember that I am human? And protect my body from the assault of vultures? Ma, oh ma! To whom have I written these pages? Which outgoing mail will carry it? When the path on land, sea and the horizon has been closed shut And you, oh ma! and my dad, my siblings, my family and my friends Perhaps you are alive Perhaps you are dead Perhaps you are like me, without an address What is the value of a human Without a home Without a flagship Without an address What is the value of a human? رسالة من المنفى محمود درويش تحيةً . وقبلةً وليس عندي ما أقول بعدْ من أين أبتدي؟ .. وأين أنتهي؟ ودورة الزمان دون حدْ وكل ما في غربتي زوادةُ, فيها رغيفٌ يابسٌ, وَوَجْدْ ودفترٌ يحمل عني بعض ما حملت بصقت في صفحاته ما ضاق بي من حقدْ من أين أبتدي؟ وكل ما قيل وما يقال بعد غدْ لا ينتهي بضمةٍ.. أو لمسةٍ من يدْ لا يُرجعُ الغريبَ للديار لا يُنزلُ الأمطار لا ينُبتُ الريش على جناح طير ضائع.. منهدّْ من أين أبتدي تحيةً... وقبلةً ... وبعدْ... 2 أقول للمذياع... قل لها أنا بخيرْ أقول للعصفورِ إن صادفتها يا طيرْ لا تنسني ,وقلْ : بخيرْ أنا بخير أنا بخير مازال في عيني بصر ! مازال في السما قمر ! وثوبي العتيق, حتى الآن , ما اندثر تمزقت أطرافهُ لكنني رتقتهُ... ولم يزل بخير وصرت شاباً جاوز العشرين تصوَّريني...صرت في العشرين وصرت كالشبابِ يا أُماه أُواجه الحياه وأحمل العبءَ كما الرجال يحملون وأشتغل في مطعم ... وأغسلُ الصحون وأصنع القهوة للزبون وأُلصق البسمات فوق وجهي الحزين ليفرح الزبون 3 أنا بخير قد صرت في العشرين وصرت كالشباب يا أُماه أُدخن التبغ , وأتكي على الجدار أقول للحلوة : آه كما يقول الآخرون ((يا إخوتي ؛ ما أطيب البنات؛ تصورا كم مُرَّة هي الحياة بدونهن.. مُرَّة هي الحياة)). وقال صاحبي: ((هل عندكم رغيف؟ يا إخوتي ؛ ما قيمة الإنسان إن نام كل ليلةٍ... جوعان؟)) أنا بخير أنا بخير عندي رغيف أسمر وسلة صغيرة من الخضار 4 سمعت في المذياع تحية المشردين.. للمشردين قال الجميع: كلنا بخير لا أحدٌ حزين ؛ فكيف حال والدي؟ ألم يزل كعهده ، يحب ذكر الله والأبناء... والتراب.. والزيتون؟ وكيف حال إخوتي هل أصبحوا موظفين؟ سمعت يوماً والدي يقول: سيصبحون كلهم معلمين.. سمعته يقول: (أجوع حتى أشترى لهم كتاب) لا أحد في قريتي يفك حرفاً في خطاب وكيف حال أختنا هل كبرت... وجاءها خُطَاب.؟ وكيف حال جدتي ألم تزل كعهدها تقعد عند الباب؟ تدعو لنا ... بالخير .. والشباب.. والثواب! وكيف حال بيتنا والعتْبَةِ الملساء... والوجاق.. والأبواب؟ سمعت في المذياع رسائل المشردين..للمشردين جميعهم بخير! لكنني حزين... تكاد أن تأكلني الظنون لم يحمل المذياع عنكم خبراً.. ولو حزين ولو حزين 5 الليل – يا أمّاه ذئبٌ جائعٌ سفاحْ يطارد الغريب أينما مضى... ويفتح الآفاق للأشباحْ وغابةُ الصفصاف لم تزل تعانق الرياحْ ماذا جنينا نحن يا أماه؟ حتى نموت مرتين فمرة في الحياة ومرة نموت في الحياة هل تعلمين ما الذي يملأني بكاء؟ هبي مرضتُ ليلةً... وهدَّ جسمي الداء ! هل يذكر المساء مهاجراً أتى هنا ... ولم يعد إلى الوطن؟ هل يذكر المساء مهاجراً مات بلا كفن؟ يا غابة الصفصاف ! هل ستذكرين أن الذي رَمَوْه تحت ظلك الحزين كأي شئ مَيِّتٍ إنسان ؟ هل تذكرين أنني إنسان وتحفظين جثتي من سطوة الغربان؟ أماه يا أماه . لمن كتبت هذه الأوراق أي بريد ذاهب يحملها ؟ سُدَّت طريق البر والبحار والآفاق... وأنت يا أماه ووالدي , وإخوتي , والأهل , والرفاق لعلكم أحياء لعلكم أموات لعلكم مثلى بلا عنوان ما قيمة الإنسان بلا وطن بلا عَلَمْ ودونما عنوان ما قيمة الإنسان؟
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Imam Shafi’i, one of the most prominent Islamic scholars, has some beautiful poetry. Here is one with my attempted translation
الإمام الشافعي رحمه الله تعالى قصيدته الرائعة التي منها:- ضحكت فقالوا ألا تحتشم I laughed and they said won’t you ever be bashful بكيت فقالوا ألا تبتسم I cried and they said won’t you ever smile بسمت فقالوا يرائي بها I smiled and they said he is showing off عبست فقالوا بدا ما كتم I frowned and they said now we see what he’s really been hiding صمت فقالوا كليل اللسان I was silent and they said he’s tongue-tied نطقت فقالوا كثير الكلام I spoke and they said he sure has a lot to say حلمت فقالوا صنيع الجبان I forbore and they said what cowardice ولو كان مقتدراً لانتقم For if he was able he would’ve taken revenge بسلت فقالوا لطيشٍ به I fought honorably and they said what recklessness وما كان مجترئاً لو حكم And he wouldn’t have been aggressive had he been wise يقولون شذ إذا قلت لا They say he is not a team player if I said no وإمعة حين وافقتهم And a yes-man if I agreed with them فأيقنت أني مهما أرد So I’ve become certain that whenever I seek رضى الناس لابد من أن أذم People’s pleasure, I will undoubtedly be faulted ولما بدا لي أنها لا تحبني * وأن هواها ليس عني بمنجل تمنيت أن تهوى سوايَ لعلها * تذوق صبابات الهوى فترق لي وما كان إلا عن قليلٍ وأشغفت * بحب غزال أدعج الطرف أكحلِ فعذبها حتى أذاب فؤادها * وذوقها طعم الهوى والتدللِ فقلت لها هذا بذاك فأطرقت * حياءً وقالت كل ظالم مبتلي ! علي عبدالله جعفر And when it became apparent to me that she will not reciprocate my love And that her love will never leave me be I wished that she would fall in love so that she may experience its longings and empathize with me And it wasn’t long afterwords that she was infatuated with the love of a handsome doe eyed And he tormented her until he melted her heart And made her taste love and humility So I told her this (what you’re going through) is for that (what you put me through) so she lowered her head defeatedly and said Every oppressor will one day face oppression And I love this musical rendition of the above poem too Translating Arabic poetry makes me appreciate its beauty even more. Here is an attempt at a couple of lines about the agony of love.
Let me know your thoughts لو كانَ لي قلبان لعشت بواحدٍ وأفردت قلباً في هواك يعذبُ لكنَّ لي قلباً تّملكَهُ الهَوى لا العَيشُ يحلو لَهُ ولا الموت يقربُ كعصفورة في كف طفلٍ يهينها تُعَانِي عَذابَ المَوتِ والطِفلُ يلعبُ فلا الطفل ذو عقل يرق لحالها ولا الطيرُ مطلوقُ الجناحينِ فيذهبُ (قيس ابن الملوح) If I had two hearts then I would live with one and leave the other one tormenting in your love Alas I only have one heart, possessed by love to continue on living does not appeal to it and death is not drawing nearer Like a tiny bird in the hands of a toddler Suffering the pains of death while the child is at play Neither the child is understanding of its pain to have pity on it nor are the bird’s wings free for it to escape below is a sung rendition of it by Lutfi Bushnaq https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=45PKJaEjm4s One of the things I find most admirable as I read some books about old Islamic scholars is the level of respect they had for each other even if they differed in opinion (I don't believe this to exclusive to "old" or "Islamic" scholars as I believe scholars of all disciplines, who respect their disciplines, show respect and admiration to each other).
This is a line from Imam Shafei talking about imam Ahmad bin Hanbal (2 founders of the 4 major Islamic schools of jurisprudence) قالوا يزوركَ أحمد وتزورهُ قلت الفضائل لا تفارق منزله إن زارني فبفضله أو زرته فلفضله، فالفضل في الحالين له They say Ahmad visits you and you visit him I said, virtue never parts with him If he visits me it's because of his virtue And if I visit him, it's for his virtue So virtue is his in both cases The beauty of this is that imam Shafei shows his own virtue by not only affirming the fact that the two scholars visit but by praising imam Ahmad and showing him the respect a scholar deserves I'm reading a book that is a collection of imam Shafei's few lines of poetry. I hope I can capture his wise and potent words with my translation.
Here is one talking about how to treat friends (or as he refers them company on the journey of life: إذا رافقت في الأسفار قوماً فكن لهم كذي الرحم الشفيق بعيب النفس ذَا بصر وعلم وأعمى العين من عيب الرفيق ولا تأخذ بعثرة كل قوم ولكن قل: هلُمّ إلى الطريق فإن تأخذ بعثرتهم يقلّوا وتبقى في الزمان بلا صديق If you accompany people upon a journey then be to them as a caring kin Insightful and aware of your own faults and blind of your company's shortcomings And don't account for every misstep but say, let's keep upon the journey For if you account for every misstep they will become few and you'll remain in this world without any company Below is one of my favorite songs by a Saudi artist by the name of Mohammed Abdu (the lyrics are by Faiiq AbdulJalil). In order to appreciate the poem you need to understand the environment in which it is written. Physical expression of love outside of marriage is prohibited Islamically and thus you find a lot of poems that speak of love in Platonic ways. This particular poet describes how, unbeknownst to him, his love was among the attendees at a function he happened to be attending as well. What ensues is a silent conversation between the two and how such a fortunate coincidence made him feel.
This is a little ditty I used to listen to when I was a kid. I never really paid attention to the words past the first few lines. Now that I am revisiting it, I am realizing how powerful the words are. A bird, symbolic of freedom, is tattered and beaten and is seeking refuge with a young girl. The young girl is symbolic of a brighter and more hopeful future. Words by Nabil Hadi in some accounts but in others they are attributed to one of my all time favorite Arab musicians Marcel Khalifeh Vocals, Umaimah Alkhalil
Below is a translation of a poem by one of my favorite poets, Mahmoud Darwish. Again, the love he speaks of is love of country and in particular Palestine. The video is a musical rendition of the poem by the talented duo of Marcel Khalife on the Oud and Umaimah Alkhalil vocals
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AuthorPalestinian, Muslim, American, Husband, Father, Academic, Pharmacist, Coffee Addict, Nutella phene, Pseudo writer, Soccer player, former Canadian, Community servant, Pinch hitter imam, interfaith ninja, Intellectual vigilante, and the undisputed KING of snark Archives
August 2020
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