Opinion

Hard imagery and sharp language

A Window into Contemporary Omani Literature

I’ve already introduced the pioneering contemporary Omani poet Saif al Rahbi in an article published on Tuesday (July 13), in these columns. I stressed the idea that Al Rahbi elevates the common and glorifies every day. The manner with which he paints brief flashes and provides little commentary is arguably reminiscent of imagism, the Anglo-American twentieth century poetic school championing hardness of imagery and sharpness of diction. A manifestation of this can be seen in the following excerpts and poems taken from his collection titled A Man from the Empty Quarter published in Beirut in 1994.

Excerpts

(1) Adam's children and (before them) Satan

Both were born of fault's storm.

(2) Today

I heard no news

News of myself.

(3) I'm not optimistic

I’m not pessimistic

I just feel pain in my teeth

Unbearable pain.

(4) A man with eyesight

Leads his flock

To the maze.

(5) Like rabbits

Enemies jump

Like rabbits

They eavesdrop.

(6) Ah

The pain flairs up

Before the fountain.

(7) The sea blocks the whales with its voracity

No longer can they move

For other generations.

(8) A plane flies in desolate space

Man floats in the light of his earthly cage

Strewing his dreams between planets.

Meanwhile a Bedouin whips his donkey on a mound.

(9) We'll arrange our enemies' ideas

As required.

(10) The mourning women will trill tomorrow

At the killer's wedding

Just for pennies.

(11) We feel guilty for faults

We didn't commit.

(12) The woman trotting before us

With a flower and saliva

Carried her death for a century.

(13) Scientists say that the sun possesses enough hydrogen to shine for another ten billion years...

How many billions does man need

To wash off the mud of his history?

(14) The young lady artist in the Parisian café

On hearing about the carnage in her country

And the wild dogs

Said repeatedly

With a show of delicacy:

'O haraam, O haraam' .

(15) Nothing remains on its feet

Save an injured ibex

In a jungle on fire.

(16) Pay heed to the wolf's advice

Before it's too late.

Indians in the Dawn's Light

This moment rolled upon itself

Like ruins of a decayed body

As usual

I can't glance at the morning's face

(It has lagged behind.)

Before the window

Out flow Indians

Carrying Buddha's coffin

Washed in the Ganga

Waiting like me

For another day

But with peace and a sacred death.

Indians

Strangers, without shadows or faces

The pain of search for bread and song.

They'll soon rest from the funeral

In the neighbouring tavern

Where a dancer wriggles, feeding her bosom

With an imaginary lover

They dream till the end.