Sargon Boulus’s ‘Baudelaire’s Pain Arrived’
In this evocative 1969 poem, translated by Miles Cayman, Sargon Boulus writes: “my bankruptcy grew into a bird, / my love into an ember.”
In this evocative 1969 poem, translated by Miles Cayman, Sargon Boulus writes: “my bankruptcy grew into a bird, / my love into an ember.”
In this brief poem by Boulus, translated by Miles Cayman, “Suddenly by chance and without warning / The table had / Vanished, the guests dispersed[.]”
In 1971, the great, maverick Iraqi poet Sargon Boulus published a single issue of an English-language literary anthology that he called Tigris.
Two new dream poems have recently appeared in translation, online.
“The beginning, we choose. / But the end chooses us. / And there is no road but the road.”
“In Sargon’s poems, the figure of the poet-translator manifests itself through the stranger who is constantly departing and arriving, with blurred memories of the journey itself.”
Yet Iraqi literature continues, somehow, to blossom. There are older writers Fadhil al-Azzawi and Muhammad Khudayyir still at work (although the former in exile), and much younger ones, too: Thirtysomething Iraqi Hassan Blassim has been called “perhaps the best writer of Arabic fiction alive.”
Adonis is still working on poetry, but next—his memoirs.
Sinan Antoon has a new Boulus translation in today’s Jadaliyya: “The Corpse”. Coming on the heels of the Nobel-lit three-ring circus (who will it be? it should be Adonis! it should be…!), the poem made me reflect on how little-known the towering, excellent Boulus is in English—outside of Banipal readers.