New Poetry in Translation: Anas al-Ghouri’s ‘Dream-Drenched Theft’

This poem comes from the collection  ذات حافية، نصوص عارية انسانياً (Barefoot Soul: Narratives Stripped of Humanity).

Dream-Drenched Theft

By Anas al-Ghouri

Translated by Victoria Issa

 

When I was a child, my parents urged me to pray at the mosque,

perhaps to pack my balance with good deeds,

perhaps for reasons then unknown to me.

Wearing threadbare rags and plastic shoes,

I carried my small body through the alleys of the unemployed,

past our neighborhood mosque.

 

I walked briskly, my steps drawn to another mosque,

the grand one, bedecked with splendor and beauty.

I sat by the shoe racks, ashamed by the contrast

in our appearances,

my eyes wide, marveling at the sight.

 

Row upon row upon row of shoes:

I dreamed of wearing them—

a pair for playing, another for school—

instead of the plastic ones that tore at my feet.

 

I filled the pockets of my imagination with those dreams,

forgetting the balance of good deeds that busied the pious crowds.

The call to prayer startled me,

waking me from my reverie.

 

The imam’s sermon had ended, while I

hadn’t heard a word.

With my pockets weighed down by wishes,

I slipped into the last row of worshipers, mimicking their prayers.

 

When the prayer ended,

I emptied the wish-filled pockets and raced to the shoe racks.

I grabbed my old shoes—

and snatched another pair.

 

They were beautiful—white with blue stripes—

and I held them tightly, studying their size, their perfection, before

I fled with my treasure,

the shoes granting me wings.

 

Once I was sure no one had followed me,

I stopped.

I slipped off my plastic shoes, tucked them under my arm,

and slid into my prize:

soft, comfortable, and light—

a perfect fit.

 

I jumped.

I danced.

I kicked an imaginary ball.

I ran home, weightless, swift as the wind.

 

Before I entered, I slipped off the shoes,

which tore off a shred of my little heart!

I hid the shoes beneath my shirt,

tucked under the rope that served as my belt.

I checked—no sign of them showed beneath my baggy clothes.

 

Inside the house, no one noticed.

I darted to the roof and

tucked the shoes behind the water tank,

hoping to return later

to reclaim a childhood suspended in time.

Anas al-Ghouri is a Syrian poet and writer, born in 1985. He migrated to Jordan during the Syrian civil war, where he worked as a bookseller. He currently resides in Norway. His published works include: The Cawing of Crows in My Throat (poetry collection, Honna/Elles Publishing, Egypt, 2024), Barefoot Soul: Narratives Stripped of Humanity (poetry collection, Dar Fadaat, Jordan, 2022), and They Stole You from You (novel, Dar al-Ketab, Jordan, 2021). His forthcoming novel, Shattered Margins, is eagerly anticipated.

Victoria Issa is a Jordanian writer and translator who works between Arabic and English, translating a wide range of genres. She is particularly passionate about children’s literature, poetry, and narratives on migration and women. Victoria is an alumna of the National Centre for Writing’s Emerging Translator Mentorships (2023/24) and the 2024 summer school at the British Centre for Literary Translation.

Photo by Hada Litim.