When the War Parts: A Poem from Gaza by Heba Al-Agha
When the War Parts By Heba Al-Agha Translated by Julia Choucair Vizoso I won’t be the same might become a closet or a bed a gas canister, a rug a library a giant lap, one long embrace. When the war parts I won't find a grave to visit for the road itself will be the graveyard There will be no flowers to lay as they too will have died. No palms on graves, and no graves either. I will stumble on a head here, a foot there, a friend’s face on the ground, his bag carrying crumbs for the little ones. Scattered eyes, I’ll see them everywhere and a heart that has gotten lost, panting will settle on my shoulder ...
From ALQ: Football Chants from Palestine
In the Fall 2021 issue of ArabLit Quarterly, we focused on FOOTBALL, and especially its many literary manifestations. Among these are the chants sung at matches; the issue brought together diverse chants from Algeria, Bahrain, Morocco, Egypt, and Palestine. In each country, the football chants reflect not just the fans' relationship with their team, but with the wider society and world. In the two chants author Ameer Hamad selected and translated for this issue -- from the Hilal Al-Quds Club in Jerusalem and Hapoel Umm al-Fahm FC in Umm al-Fahm -- it's not just important to win, but to stand strong as Palestinians. Hapoel Umm al-Fahm FC – al-Hamra’ Rayatna (Red Is Our Flag) Umm al-Fahm is a Palestinian city that was ...
New Poetry: ‘From Gaza, Answering Darwish’
From Gaza, Answering Darwish By Basman Eldirawi with Mahmoud Darwish, translations by Ibrahim Muhawi In March, spring rains return, first cold, then warm. We think it’s the time to relax, to unfold, to bloom. ليس الزمن في غـزة استرخاء ولكنه اقتحام الظهيرة المشتعلة Time in Gaza is not relaxation, but storming the burning noon. We both know time in Gaza is different, But you were born in spring, Mahmoud, The perfect season for the writing of our triumph. نظلمها حين نبحث عن أشعارها فلا نشوهن جمال غزة We do injustice to Gaza when we look for its poems, so let us not disfigure Gaza’s beauty. In Gaza, our beauty remains constant, Where a poet’s mind can ...
Poetry in Translation: Riyad al-Saleh al-Hussein’s ‘War. War. War’
Nearly four decades after his death at the age of 28, Riyad al-Saleh al-Hussein’s work remains a vibrant part of the poetic and imaginative landscape of Syria and beyond. This poem is from the collection Daily Legends. War. War. War By Riyad al-Saleh al-Hussein Translated by Ibtihal Rida Mahmood A lover moves between the rattle of exiles and the rattle of words A lover, like this bloody wilderness, these golden corpses, Exits one time to sing Enters one homeland to sing Buys loaves and hoes Buys sidewalks and mills Buys a sorrow And a tank fallen between the jaws of an oleander Buys a handsome grave for an airplane And green branches of eternal bliss for enamored women A lover ...
Three 2024 Collections of New Poetry with and from Gaza
Three new poetry collections gather work mostly written in the final months of 2023. Out now, from the Publishers for Palestine collective, is Poems for Palestine, a free booklet of poetry, artwork, and resources for action, now available for both print and online dissemination. It includes poetry from Refaat Al-Areer, Fady Joudah, Hiba Abu Nada, Olivia Elias, Samer Abu Hawwash, Maya Murry, Ahlam Bsharat, Basman Aldirawi, and Ghassan Zaqtan. From the introduction: “Though few of us could memorize an entire essay or story, poems come readily to the tongue and can be chanted or read aloud at gatherings, shared and re-shared on social media. They vibrate between us, move between languages, and connect memory to memory. Yet they are not ...
Two Poems by Ahmad Al-Mulla: ‘This Scar’ and ‘Ancient Souls’
This Scar By Ahmad Al-Mulla Translated by Nour Jaljuli He wakes up every day before every passing mirror, to search for it on his cheek swearing that it’s the mark he’s known by: his tattoo, almost. He tries to learn about what happened to make it visible to everyone. He forgot the defect, and the mark remained. The scar is proof of him. When it was etched beneath his eye, bit by bit, his features weakened, until it overcame him, and rubbed away his name. The scar remained the only name by which he’s known. Every time he tried to remember the reason behind it he struggled. He hid it by growing his beard long, and turned his face to ...
New Poetry by Basman Elderawi: ‘I Am Not Jesus’
I Am Not Jesus By Basman Elderawi I am not Jesus, but since birth I move along the Via Dolorosa, carrying the guilt of the world on my back. I am not Jesus, but I walk with all my pain, searching the sky for the face of God, our Father. I am not Jesus, but I will be executed for standing, for fighting, for speaking. I am not Jesus. I am his grandson. They bomb me in his hospital, in his church, in his home. I am not Jesus, but I am trying not to hate my enemy. And yet I see no point to spilling my blood. I am not Jesus, but the world watches me, asking me to ...
New Poetry in Translation: Ibrahim Nasrallah’s ‘Mary of Gaza’
The new poem "Mary of Gaza" was composed by Ibrahim Nasrallah. The English translation is by Huda Fakhreddine. Ibrahim Nasrallah was born in 1954 to Palestinian parents who were uprooted from their land in 1948. He spent his childhood and youth in the Alwehdat Palestinian refugee camp in Amman, Jordan, and began his working life as a teacher in Saudi Arabia. After returning to Amman, he worked as a journalist and a cultural Director. He has been a full-time writer since 2006, publishing 14 poetry collections and 22 novels, including his epic "Palestinian Comedy" series of 12 novels covering 250 years of modern Palestinian history. Four of his novels and a volume of poetry have been translated into English, including his ...
Poetry in Translation: Wadih Saadeh’s ‘The Suicides’
This translation initially ran in our Summer 2019 issue of ArabLit Quarterly. Who stormed checkpoints, taboos and fears, who conquered the darkness of the tunnel as they passed through it like a flash of lightning. The suicides – our saints. Who were too large for life, so they made space for themselves in death. Who could not own a life, so they took possession of a death. Who were too sublime for charitable donations, for hospitality that was incidental, for dinner tables where they dish for consumption, so they slammed the door shut behind them and left. Who left the seats and prattle of promises, and went to their silence. Who dissolved the salt of the spirit and pushed it into ...
A Poem from Ghassan Zaqtan’s New Collection
Editor’s note: The poems in Ghassan Zaqtan’s Strangers in Light Coats, translated by Robin Moger and published by Seagull Books this month, are come from four of Zaqtan’s collections, published in 2014, 2015, 2019, and 2021. The final collection also titled Strangers in Light Coats ("غرباء بمعاطف خفيفة"). Together, the poems selected from these four books build a folkloric landscape that is the author’s own. There are woodsmen and kings and djinn and collections of sevens; there are women who speak to wells and men who die of love; but there is also a war in Beirut, snipers, and rain falling on a conversation between Edward Said and Ibrahim Abu-Lughod. There is an incantatory storyteller’s lilt to many of the ...
