OCTOBER 22, 2022 — Syrian poet Riyad al-Saleh al-Hussein died on this day in 1981, at the age of 28. As Ibtihal Mahmood wrote back in 2018, his poetry remains “bold, invincible, and ‘simple like water, clear like a bullet’ — with a breathtaking prophetic trait immersed in blue.”
Today, three poems, selected by Ghada Alatrash, to commemorate his life and writing.
The Dagger
By Riyad Al-Saleh Al-Hussein
Translated by Ghada Alatrash
The man died
A dagger in his heart
A smile on his lips
The man died
The man promenades in his grave
He looks up
He looks down
He looks around
Nothing but soil
Nothing but the shiny grip of the dagger in his chest
The dead man smiles
He pats the grip of the dagger
The dagger is his only friend
The dagger
A dear memory from those above.
*
A Moon
By Riyad Al-Saleh Al-Hussein
Translated by Ghada Alatrash
Everything that the shepherd has said to the mountain
And to the river and the trees
And everything that people have said and didn’t say
In dancing arenas and on battlegrounds,
I have told you.
About the girl who sings at the window
And the gravel that breaks under the wheels of the train
About the cemetery that has been sleeping happily for centuries,
I have told you.
A flower from my body, every morning
I pick for you and throw it into the streets
For leaders, wisemen, and thieves to trample
And a flower from my body, every evening
I collect its crumbled petals and gather them for you,
And I talk about all that has happened to me.
Once, I sat by you and cried
My heart a burning field of rice
My fingers hanging like the tongues of dogs on summer days.
I wished to express myself with actions:
To break a glass
To open a window
To sleep
But I couldn’t
What do I talk about after twenty-six years
Or after twenty-six bullets fired into emptiness?
I am tired of talking, of debt, and work
But I will never tire of freedom
And here I am, dreaming of one thing or a few things:
That the word becomes bread and grapes
A bird or a bed,
That I wrap my left arm around your shoulder
And my right around the shoulder of the world
And say to the moon:
Take a photo of us.
*
The Flag
By Riyad Al-Saleh Al-Hussein
Translated by Ghada Alatrash
Take a look at him
Just look at him
His body had disintegrated
A long time ago
And still he carries the flag of freedom.
*
Riyal Al-Saleh Al-Hussein died at 28 years of age in 1981.
Ghada Alatrash, PhD, is an Assistant Professor and Director at the School of Critical and Creative Studies at Alberta University of the Arts in Calgary, Canada. She holds a PhD in Educational Research: Languages and Diversity from the Werklund School of Education, the University of Calgary, and a Master’s Degree in English Literature from the University of Oklahoma. Her current research speaks to Syrian art and creative expression as resistance to oppression and dictatorship.
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