{"id":15925,"date":"2018-03-13T07:21:23","date_gmt":"2018-03-13T11:21:23","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/pierrejoris.com\/blog\/?p=15925"},"modified":"2018-03-13T07:22:04","modified_gmt":"2018-03-13T11:22:04","slug":"on-mahmoud-darwishs-birthday-13-poems","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/pierrejoris.com\/blog\/on-mahmoud-darwishs-birthday-13-poems\/","title":{"rendered":"On Mahmoud Darwish\u2019s Birthday, 13\u00a0Poems"},"content":{"rendered":"\n\n\n
\n\n\n\n
via Arab Lit (in English) & the indefatigable Marcia Lynx Qualey:<\/em><\/td>\n<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<\/tbody>\n<\/table>\n
\n

The Palestinian poet Mahmoud Darwish (d. 2008) was born in al-Birwa on this day in 1941. To commemorate his entrance into our world on March 13, ArabLit has 13 poems (and poemish texts):<\/strong><\/p>\n

1) \u201cThe Moon Did Not Fall Into the Well<\/a>,\u201d from\u00a0Journal of an Ordinary Grief<\/a>,\u00a0<\/em>tr. Ibrahim Muhawi<\/strong><\/p>\n

\"\"Muhawi\u2019s translations have a wonderful sense of the rhythm of the original, and this particular text is narrative, open-hearted, and with deeply etched characters. It opens:<\/p>\n

\u2014What are you doing, father?<\/p>\n

\u2014I\u2019m searching for my heart, which fell away that night.<\/p>\n

\u2014Do you think you\u2019ll find it here?<\/p>\n

\u2014Where else am I going to nd it? I bend to the ground and pick it up piece by piece just as the women of the fellahin pick up olives in October, one olive at a time.<\/p>\n

\u2014But you\u2019re picking up pebbles!<\/p>\n

\u2014Doing that is a good exercise for memory and perception. Who knows? Maybe these pebbles are petrified pieces of my heart.<\/p>\n

2) \u201cLove, like meaning,<\/a>\u201d from\u00a0In the Presence of Absence<\/a>,\u00a0<\/em>tr. Sinan Antoon.<\/strong><\/p>\n

Perhaps the greatest of Darwish\u2019s works, this version brought Antoon the 2012 National Translation Award<\/a>:<\/p>\n

Love, like meaning, is out on the open road, but like poetry, it is difficult. It requires talent, endurance, and skillful formulation, because of its many stations. It is not enough to love, for that is one of nature\u2019s magical acts, like rainfall and thunder. It takes you out of yourself into the other\u2019s orbit and then you have to fend for yourself. It is not enough to love, you have to know how to love. Do you know how?<\/p>\n

3)<\/strong>\u00a0\u201cThe Dice Player<\/a>,\u201d from If I Were Another<\/a>,\u00a0<\/em>tr. Fady Joudah<\/strong><\/p>\n

The charming \u201cThe Dice Player\u201d with a visual adaptation:<\/p>\n

<\/a><\/p>\n

4) \u201cThe Horse Fell off the Poem<\/a>,\u201d from\u00a0The Butterfly\u2019s Burden<\/a>,\u00a0<\/em>tr. Fady Joudah<\/strong><\/p>\n

\n
There is no margin in modern language left<\/div>\n
to celebrate what we love,<\/div>\n
because all that will be \u2026 was<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

5) \u201cThe Second Olive Tree<\/a>,\u201d tr. Marilyn Hacker<\/strong><\/p>\n

And with horses, olive trees:<\/p>\n

The olive tree does not weep and does not laugh. The olive tree
\nIs the hillside\u2019s modest lady. Shadow
\nCovers her one leg, and she will not take her leaves off in front of the storm.
\nStanding, she is seated, and seated, standing.<\/p>\n

6) \u201cNothing But Iraq<\/a>,\u201d tr.\u00a0Shareah Taleghani<\/b><\/strong><\/p>\n

A cry to Badr Shakir al-Sayyab:<\/p>\n

I remember as-Sayyab screaming into the Gulf in vain:
\nIraq, Iraq. Nothing but Iraq.
\nAnd nothing but an echo replies
\nI remember as-Sayyab, in that Sumerian space
\nA woman triumphed over the sterility of mist
\nShe bequeathed to us earth and exile . . .
\nFor poetry is born in Iraq,
\nSo be Iraqi to become a poet, my friend.<\/p>\n

7) \u201cAnd where is my will?<\/a>\u201d from\u00a0Memory for Forgetfulness<\/a>,\u00a0<\/em>tr. Ibrahim Muhawi<\/strong><\/p>\n

And where is my will?<\/p>\n

It stopped over there, on the other side of the collective voice. But now, I want nothing more than the aroma of coffee. Now I feel shame. I feel shamed by my fear, and by those defending the scent of the distant homeland\u2013that fragrance they\u2019ve never smelled because they weren\u2019t born on her soil. She bore them, but they were born away from her. Yet they studied her constantly, without fatigue or boredom; and from overpowering memory and constant pursuit, they learned what it means to belong to her.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re aliens here,\u201d they say to them there<\/em>.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re aliens here,\u201d they say to them here<\/em>.<\/p>\n

8) \u201cDiary<\/a>,\u201d tr. Tania Tamari Nasir and John Berger.<\/strong><\/p>\n

If you were told: you\u2019re going to die here this evening What would you do in the remaining time? Look at my watch Drink a glass of juice Munch an apple Watch an ant who has found what to eat Then look at my watch There\u2019s still time to shave have a bath I say to myself: One needs one\u2019s finery when about to write So I\u2019ll wear the blue shirt I sit til noon alive at my desk I do not see the effect of color on words Whiteness whiteness whiteness I prepare my last lunch I pour out wine into two glasses For me and for the one who will come Unannounced Then I take a siesta in between two dreams<\/p>\n

9) \u201cThe Tragedy of Narcissus<\/a>,\u201d from If I Were Another<\/a>,\u00a0<\/em>tr. Fady Joudah:<\/strong><\/p>\n

<\/a><\/p>\n

10) \u201cA Noun Sentence<\/a>,\u201d The Butterfly\u2019s Burden<\/a>,\u00a0<\/em>tr. Fady Joudah<\/strong><\/p>\n

A noun sentence, no verb
\nto it or in it: to the sea the scent of the bed
\nafter making love \u2026 a salty perfume
\nor a sour one. A noun sentence: my wounded joy
\nlike the sunset at your strange windows.<\/p>\n

11) \u201cIf I Were a Hunter<\/a>,\u201d tr. Shakir Mustafa<\/strong><\/p>\n

If a hunter I were
\nI\u2019d give the gazelle
\na chance, and another,
\nand a third, and a tenth,
\nto doze a little. My share
\nof the booty would be
\npeace of mind under
\nher dozing head.<\/p>\n

12) \u201cMural<\/a>,\u201d translated by\u00a0John Berger\u00a0and, Rema Hammami<\/strong><\/p>\n

My nurse says: you are better now
\nand injects me with a tranquillizer:
\nBe calm
\nand worthy of what you\u2019re about to dream
\neven a little\u2026<\/p>\n

13)\u00a0\u201cID Card<\/a>,\u201d tr.\u00a0Salman Masalha and Vivian Eden<\/strong><\/p>\n

This would not likely be a poem Darwish would choose among only 13 of his works. But it is one that, although written in his early days, in 1964, continues to have great political resonance:<\/p>\n

Write it down! Im an Arab
\nMy card number is 50000
\nMy children number eight
\nAnd after this summer, a ninth on his way.
\nDoes this make you rage?
\nI am an Arab.<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<\/tbody>\n<\/table>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

via Arab Lit (in English) & the indefatigable Marcia Lynx Qualey: The Palestinian poet Mahmoud Darwish (d. 2008) was born in al-Birwa on this day in 1941. To commemorate his entrance into our world...<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1442,79,91],"tags":[500],"class_list":["post-15925","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-mashreq","category-palestine","category-poetry","tag-mahmoud-darwish"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/pierrejoris.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/15925","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/pierrejoris.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/pierrejoris.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pierrejoris.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pierrejoris.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=15925"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/pierrejoris.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/15925\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":15928,"href":"https:\/\/pierrejoris.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/15925\/revisions\/15928"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/pierrejoris.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=15925"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pierrejoris.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=15925"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pierrejoris.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=15925"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}