Revolt Against the Sun
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Revolt Against the Sun

The Selected Poetry of Nazik al-Mala'ika: A Bilingual Reader

Nazik al-Malaʾika, Emily Drumsta, Emily Drumsta

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eBook - ePub

Revolt Against the Sun

The Selected Poetry of Nazik al-Mala'ika: A Bilingual Reader

Nazik al-Malaʾika, Emily Drumsta, Emily Drumsta

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The Iraqi poet Nazik al-Malaika was one of the most important Arab poets of the twentieth century. Over the course of a four-decade career, her contributions to both the theory and the practice of free verse (or taf?ilah ) poetry confirmed her position as a pioneer of Arab modernism. Revolt Against the Sun presents a selection of Nazik al-Malaika's poetry in English for the first time. Bringing together poems from each of her published collections, it traces al-Mala'ika's transformation from a lyrical Romantic poet in the 1940s to a fervently committed Arab nationalist in the 1970s and 1980s. The translations offer both an overview of her life and work, and an insight into the political and social realities in the Arab world in the decades following the Second World War.Featuring a comprehensive historical and critical introduction, this bilingual reader reveals how one woman transformed the landscape of modern Arabic literature and culture in the twentieth century. It is a key resource for students and teachers of Arabic and world literature, as well as for readers interested in discovering an alternative narrative of modern Iraqi culture.

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Información

Editorial
Saqi Books
Año
2020
ISBN
9780863563522
Categoría
Literature
Categoría
Poetry

POEMS FROM
SHRAPNEL AND ASH
(1949)

قصائد من
شظايا ورماد
(١٩٤٩)

The Train Passed By

Night’s stillness stretches out into the distance
broken only by doves who, from afar,
coo on, confused, and dogs who bark at ancient stars
as hungry clocks devour our existence.
Out there, in one direction or another
the train passed by
wheels spinning, pleading. I have spent the night
waiting for it and day to come. The train
passed by then disappeared into the dark
behind the far-off hills
a feeble echo in my heart
as I stare at the dreaming stars
imagining the wheels and rows
of tired, sleepless passengers,
imagining the weight of night
on eyelids sick of others’ faces
flickering in faded light,
and silent shadows. I can see
the bitter irritation
in souls that grow more worn with every station,
their luggage waiting, as they must,
like luggage, wait beneath a layer of dust
sleeping a moment, woken by the train
some of them yawning, sleeping, peering out
into the wastelands speeding by
then into others’ weary eyes
faces of strangers gathered by a train.
Almost asleep, they dimly hear
a cranky mumbling in one ear
“My watch is slow! How long has passed?
and when do we arrive?”
His watch chimes three o’clock indifferently
and here the whistle cuts him off
the train conductor’s lantern glows,
and through the night, the station lights
appear, the weary train begins to slow.
One young man sits apart
refusing sleep but sighing still,
awake, surveying stars, his eyes
are edged with worry, cold, his face
red-hued from fever-dreams, his lips
almost apart reveal a dream
imbuing night with rustlings
the quiet melody of wings,
his two eyes almost closed as though
afraid a ray might pierce the lids
revealing some intolerable thing.
This anxious, sad young man
tries everything he can to see
something besides the ancient mystery
the epic story with a thousand parts
its heroes and its language worn and cold
repeating endlessly.
This boy –
now footsteps pass
a frowning face
peers through the glass
the lamp swings in his hand, he sees
faces exhausted, sleeping sitting up
inside the train
expectant eyes
a desperate cry for dawn in every lid
as the conductor’s footsteps fade
into the shadows, stagnant, still.
The train passed through a wasteland and was gone
I stood alone, asking the night
when it would bring my poet back
which train will bring him back to me?
Did the conductor wander through his car
passing his lamp over the passengers
seeing them without seeing, moving on
while I remain here,
waiting for the train?
1948
مر القطار
الليلُ ممتدُّ السكونِ إلى المدَى
لا شيءَ يقطعُهُ سوى صوتٍ بليدْ
لحمامةٍ حَيْرى وكلبٍ ينبَحُ النجمَ البعيدْ
والساعةُ البلهاءُ تلتهم الغدا
وهناك في بعضِ الجهاتْ
مرَّ القطارْ
عجلاتُهُ غزلتْ رجاءً بتُّ أنتظرُ النهارْ
من أجلِهِ... مرَّ القطار
وخبا بعي...

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