Breathe-in experience, breathe-out poetry
Published: 05:01 PM,Jan 01,2024 | EDITED : 09:01 PM,Jan 01,2024
After months of house renovations, I was given the task of helping Mom to unpack and arrange books from Dad's infamous library. Three words to describe that room: a disaster zone.
Dad is an avid reader and a man who likes collecting any sort of reading material including newspapers, magazines, and supplements. Not to mention books that his nephews keep dumping on him from time to time, which fills him with pride. I decided to divide the books genre-wise and get rid of all unreadable materials, discovering in the process many interesting books that came as supplements with Arabic cultural magazines.
After days of hard work, the place finally looked like a proper library. Now it was time for me to pick an Arabic book to read for change, and I chose one of translated poetry; something I rarely read as I’m a big sceptic of translated work.
The book was called The Voice of Conscience: Fifty Global Poems, translated by Ta’lat El Shayeb and published by Al Doha Magazine in August 2013. In his introduction, El Shayeb shares his views regarding the difficulties of translating from other languages without destroying the essence and meaning of a poem such as Fitzgerald’s translation of Omar Al-Khayyam’s poetry, which helped in developing English literature. Proceeding through the book was a great pleasure as it introduced me to many new international poets from diverse eras and backgrounds.
There were different types of poems in the book but their main theme was that of oppression; whether it’s caused by dictatorship or imprisonment. It included Paul Éluard’s (France) famous poem “Freedom,” which was published and dropped by British parachutes on Paris during Nazi occupation in 1945 with Its famous opening stanza: “On my notebooks, On my desk and the trees, On the sand on the snow, I write your name.”
Another memorable poem was that of Vasko Popa (Serbia), which talks about an inmate who smuggles a handful of cherries to his detention camp and divides them into three parts before swallowing them fast — with the pits — where it grows into a tree that sprouts from his stomach and makes his mates laugh. Reza Baraheni (Iran) and César Vallejo (Peru) poems reflect the weight of being an intellect in a world full of poverty-stricken and exploited humans.
Some poems share beautifully imagined scenes, despite their depressing nature such as Forugh Farrokhzad (Iran) asking visitors of her house to carry with them a lamp and a small window so that she could see the happy bustling of streets, while Ko Un (Korea) describes the fleeting happiness felt when a ray of sunlight visits his prison cell at sunset.
As I reach the end of the book that includes the poets’ biographies, I’m struck by the common factor that unifies most of them: either being political prisoners for decades or their heart-breaking endings that don't match their sensitive nature which sets them apart from others. Ernesto Díaz Rodriguez (Cuba) was imprisoned for 22 years during Castro’s regime, while Nazim Hikmet (Turkey) was sentenced for 35 years but served 15 after a hunger strike. Tragic deaths include Paul Celan (Romania) who drowned himself in the river Seine and Attila József (Hungary) who threw himself under a train.
As for female poets, Alaide Foppa (Guatemala) disappeared in 1980 aged 66 and Forugh Farrokhzad (Iran) died in a much-debated car accident aged 32. Others who perished in prison include Miguel Hernández (Spain), Paul Celan (Romania) and Robert Desnos (France). Nevertheless, the best quote to sum-up this short yet rewarding poetic journey is by American poet Muriel Rukeyser: “Breathe-in experience, breathe-out poetry.”
Dad is an avid reader and a man who likes collecting any sort of reading material including newspapers, magazines, and supplements. Not to mention books that his nephews keep dumping on him from time to time, which fills him with pride. I decided to divide the books genre-wise and get rid of all unreadable materials, discovering in the process many interesting books that came as supplements with Arabic cultural magazines.
After days of hard work, the place finally looked like a proper library. Now it was time for me to pick an Arabic book to read for change, and I chose one of translated poetry; something I rarely read as I’m a big sceptic of translated work.
The book was called The Voice of Conscience: Fifty Global Poems, translated by Ta’lat El Shayeb and published by Al Doha Magazine in August 2013. In his introduction, El Shayeb shares his views regarding the difficulties of translating from other languages without destroying the essence and meaning of a poem such as Fitzgerald’s translation of Omar Al-Khayyam’s poetry, which helped in developing English literature. Proceeding through the book was a great pleasure as it introduced me to many new international poets from diverse eras and backgrounds.
There were different types of poems in the book but their main theme was that of oppression; whether it’s caused by dictatorship or imprisonment. It included Paul Éluard’s (France) famous poem “Freedom,” which was published and dropped by British parachutes on Paris during Nazi occupation in 1945 with Its famous opening stanza: “On my notebooks, On my desk and the trees, On the sand on the snow, I write your name.”
Another memorable poem was that of Vasko Popa (Serbia), which talks about an inmate who smuggles a handful of cherries to his detention camp and divides them into three parts before swallowing them fast — with the pits — where it grows into a tree that sprouts from his stomach and makes his mates laugh. Reza Baraheni (Iran) and César Vallejo (Peru) poems reflect the weight of being an intellect in a world full of poverty-stricken and exploited humans.
Some poems share beautifully imagined scenes, despite their depressing nature such as Forugh Farrokhzad (Iran) asking visitors of her house to carry with them a lamp and a small window so that she could see the happy bustling of streets, while Ko Un (Korea) describes the fleeting happiness felt when a ray of sunlight visits his prison cell at sunset.
As I reach the end of the book that includes the poets’ biographies, I’m struck by the common factor that unifies most of them: either being political prisoners for decades or their heart-breaking endings that don't match their sensitive nature which sets them apart from others. Ernesto Díaz Rodriguez (Cuba) was imprisoned for 22 years during Castro’s regime, while Nazim Hikmet (Turkey) was sentenced for 35 years but served 15 after a hunger strike. Tragic deaths include Paul Celan (Romania) who drowned himself in the river Seine and Attila József (Hungary) who threw himself under a train.
As for female poets, Alaide Foppa (Guatemala) disappeared in 1980 aged 66 and Forugh Farrokhzad (Iran) died in a much-debated car accident aged 32. Others who perished in prison include Miguel Hernández (Spain), Paul Celan (Romania) and Robert Desnos (France). Nevertheless, the best quote to sum-up this short yet rewarding poetic journey is by American poet Muriel Rukeyser: “Breathe-in experience, breathe-out poetry.”