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Al-Ahram Weekly 12 - 18 August 1999 Issue No. 442 
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Published in Cairo by AL-AHRAM established in 1875 |
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Al-Ahram Weekly 12 - 18 August 1999 Issue No. 442
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| Published in Cairo by AL-AHRAM established in 1875 |
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Egypt Region International Economy Opinion Culture Profile Books Features Travel Living Sports Time Out Chronicles People Cartoons Letters Two poems for my son Ali
By Abdel-Wahab Al-Bayyati-1-
My sad moon,
The sea is dead; its dark waves have swallowed Sindbad's sail;
Its children no longer cry with the gulls; echoes return muffled,
While the horizon is shrouded in dust.
To whom then do the mermaids sing,
If the sea is dead?
Seaweed floating, and with it worlds,
Worlds recollected when the singer sings?
Drowned is our island, and the singing
Is but weeping.
Larks
Have flown; for the treasure, my sad moon,
Buried in the stream
At the end of the orchard, under the lemon tree, by Sindbad,
Is gone. Here is dust,
Ice, darkness and leaves that cover it, and cover all creatures in a fog.
Shall we die in this wasteland thus?
Like this childhood's light dry up in dust?
Thus that the sun of morning darkens,
While in the poor man's stove no fire burns?-2-
Those sleeping cities have no dawn.
Calling your name in the streets,
Only darkness answered.
I asked after you from the wailing wind in the heart of silence,
And glimpsed your face in mirrors, eyes,
And postcards.
Those snow-covered cities have no dawn.
Cities whose churches are deserted by spring birds.
For whom then shall I sing, if café doors are closed?
And to whom shall the broken heart pray,
If the night is dead?
If chariots
Return without horses, covered in snow,
With their horsemen dead?
Shall we pass the years thus?
Agony tearing the heart,
While we, wandering from exile to exile, and from door to door,
Wither like daisies in the dust?
Poor, my moon, we shall die,
And forever miss our train.31 March, 1965
