Poet, writer and translator , whose poetry appeared in English in the first Anthology of translated Arabic poetry (1987, Columbia University press), and in Iraqi Poetry Today (2003, King’s college, London). He is also featured in the Dictionary of Contemporary Arabic Authors published in 1985, in Arabic and German. One of his last projects was working with the ‘motion group’ on A Soldier’s Tale which showed at the Old Vic Theatre in London.
He has published several collections including The Bags (1975), Tapping on the Doors of Childhood (1978), Epitaph (1981), Bicagy's Rose (1983), Promenade of Sadness (1991), Sarabad (1997), Ticking Unreachable from Light (1998), Kifa Nabki (2002, which translated means Halt-let us weep), The Insane do not Tire (short story collection, 2004), Zihariat (2005), The Feast of the Funeral (2007), The Moroccan Divan (2008), Selected Poems (2009) and The Poet outside the Text (2007) (an Interview with Abdulkareem Kasid by Abdul Karder Al Jamoosi).
we'll highlight the poet's work in translation on another occasion.
He has published several collections including The Bags (1975), Tapping on the Doors of Childhood (1978), Epitaph (1981), Bicagy's Rose (1983), Promenade of Sadness (1991), Sarabad (1997), Ticking Unreachable from Light (1998), Kifa Nabki (2002, which translated means Halt-let us weep), The Insane do not Tire (short story collection, 2004), Zihariat (2005), The Feast of the Funeral (2007), The Moroccan Divan (2008), Selected Poems (2009) and The Poet outside the Text (2007) (an Interview with Abdulkareem Kasid by Abdul Karder Al Jamoosi).
we'll highlight the poet's work in translation on another occasion.
cafés
1
A café near the bridge –
At daybreak
The boats call there.
They wait and wait
Then set off again, empty
Moving without oars
So where could those boats be going?
2
A café – one day
The river swept it away
Along with its customers
Its chairs
Its tables.
Look, it’s down there,
A tree, growing out of
Its forehead like a horn,
A tree in the middle of emptiness
3
A café, when I was a child
And all I can remember
Is a white fox fur
Hanging there when you went in.
Eyes closed it had a child’s face,
And shadows blown this way and that by the wind –
A café which, no doubt, existed
Only in my dream
4
A café
And facing it a river.
On the river bank there’s someone
Sitting, drinking tea.
He stares into the cafe mirror
Where the houris are passing
In the street – or is it the river ?
This café no longer exists.
5
The café is no longer there where it should be.
The street is no longer there
The people are no longer there,
Even the dead have migrated to different graves
So what is it you look for,
O revenant?
6
I don’t know why this is cause for rejoicing,
Three hanged men swaying in the air
A single tree
And people clustered around it.
Some of them have chosen to sit over there
In the café, facing towards the tree
To watch the feet sway back and forth in the air.
In a moment they’ll all come down
And leave this spot once and for all
7
A café, divided in two by a road,
Awnings attached to its sides
They stretch as far as the eye can see
‘Where will those awnings ever come to an end?’
The child asked,
Growing giddy.
8
A café in the distance –
I see it now as a tree
Its roof made of branches and leaves
Chairs made of wood.
The people who go there like to sit down
Lightly, on the branches.
9
Chairs don’t baa like sheep,
They stay silent
And stare at the river all day
As if they were waiting for someone
But, when evening falls,
All of a sudden they go
One by one down to the river
And the air is filled with their baa-ing.
10
The boat, that cast anchor
In the river, alongside the market,
It’s no longer a boat
Since summer surprised it with whiteness
And the chairs were lined up on its deck
And the passers-by came on board
No longer waiting
For its siren to sound.
11
Here
Every pavement has its café.
Often my shadow and I
We share the same table
We don’t grow impatient
Waiting, for who?
Sometimes my shadow leaves me
And I don’t even realise he’s gone
(Left, to go where?)
12
The other café, ready to take off
Like a flying saucer,
I didn’t see it when I went back
Nor did I see its customers –
They were friends of mine
Where are they now –
On which planet?
13
A café that limps,
It stands on one leg
Beside the river
And it doesn’t move from there
Until this tree approaches
Sailing through the night
And provides it with a second leg.
14
A drowning sun
Calls for help from the boats.
The river is buried
In the depths of its solitude.
In the meantime a light
Disappears, then goes out altogether
A café no doubt!
ORIGINAL POEM IN ARABIC BY: ABDULKARIM KASID
TRANSLATED FROM A FRENCH TRANSLATION BY ENGLISH POET: JOHN WELCH
http://tearsinthefence.com/2012/11/28/the-many-cafes-of-john-welch/
A café near the bridge –
At daybreak
The boats call there.
They wait and wait
Then set off again, empty
Moving without oars
So where could those boats be going?
2
A café – one day
The river swept it away
Along with its customers
Its chairs
Its tables.
Look, it’s down there,
A tree, growing out of
Its forehead like a horn,
A tree in the middle of emptiness
3
A café, when I was a child
And all I can remember
Is a white fox fur
Hanging there when you went in.
Eyes closed it had a child’s face,
And shadows blown this way and that by the wind –
A café which, no doubt, existed
Only in my dream
4
A café
And facing it a river.
On the river bank there’s someone
Sitting, drinking tea.
He stares into the cafe mirror
Where the houris are passing
In the street – or is it the river ?
This café no longer exists.
5
The café is no longer there where it should be.
The street is no longer there
The people are no longer there,
Even the dead have migrated to different graves
So what is it you look for,
O revenant?
6
I don’t know why this is cause for rejoicing,
Three hanged men swaying in the air
A single tree
And people clustered around it.
Some of them have chosen to sit over there
In the café, facing towards the tree
To watch the feet sway back and forth in the air.
In a moment they’ll all come down
And leave this spot once and for all
7
A café, divided in two by a road,
Awnings attached to its sides
They stretch as far as the eye can see
‘Where will those awnings ever come to an end?’
The child asked,
Growing giddy.
8
A café in the distance –
I see it now as a tree
Its roof made of branches and leaves
Chairs made of wood.
The people who go there like to sit down
Lightly, on the branches.
9
Chairs don’t baa like sheep,
They stay silent
And stare at the river all day
As if they were waiting for someone
But, when evening falls,
All of a sudden they go
One by one down to the river
And the air is filled with their baa-ing.
10
The boat, that cast anchor
In the river, alongside the market,
It’s no longer a boat
Since summer surprised it with whiteness
And the chairs were lined up on its deck
And the passers-by came on board
No longer waiting
For its siren to sound.
11
Here
Every pavement has its café.
Often my shadow and I
We share the same table
We don’t grow impatient
Waiting, for who?
Sometimes my shadow leaves me
And I don’t even realise he’s gone
(Left, to go where?)
12
The other café, ready to take off
Like a flying saucer,
I didn’t see it when I went back
Nor did I see its customers –
They were friends of mine
Where are they now –
On which planet?
13
A café that limps,
It stands on one leg
Beside the river
And it doesn’t move from there
Until this tree approaches
Sailing through the night
And provides it with a second leg.
14
A drowning sun
Calls for help from the boats.
The river is buried
In the depths of its solitude.
In the meantime a light
Disappears, then goes out altogether
A café no doubt!
ORIGINAL POEM IN ARABIC BY: ABDULKARIM KASID
TRANSLATED FROM A FRENCH TRANSLATION BY ENGLISH POET: JOHN WELCH
http://tearsinthefence.com/2012/11/28/the-many-cafes-of-john-welch/
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