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Appetite The ancient shore, alone With its open- chest wagon Carries all this silver… Where to? Ruins On the brackish face of the river’s waters Lies the reflection of the mosques, The orbits of houses, The head of the hospital, And the beauty of twilight… Those two short poems were translated by Amal Ibrahim and kindly revised by the English poet George Szirtes
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 Born in Babylon1981, Maythem Alharbi acquired his Masters degree in modern Arabic Literature from the University of Baghdad, he published his first collection (innocence of rain) in 2009 and his second (I cry of pain and dogs echo my bark) 2011. in critics he has a manuscript entitled ( critical conduct towards poetic forms in Iraq 1948-1991). He has wide participations in local and international events. recently representing the Iraqi House of Poetry as its SG where he set his unique prints on the map of cultural events in Iraq. the poverty line and the music of creationUnder the line of poverty lie my unique stories the view of a lovely sunset naked winters and those gliding kites I was born and raised under the wing of the garbage of the rich sometimes they are kind hearted they don't finish their fish I share it with my cats, dogs, and countless ailments Since I am the only speaking animal amongst them I'm the home of springs of tears artists picture me poets recite me in verses my names are written in pamphlets of human rights the only thing they feel is pride I feel like laughing till I cry I'm the master of talking with statues of the immortal in this world they are my only solace I walk on a land paved by oil and wars at the same time, ascend to wisdom distributing astonishment upon the horizon and for the sake of every evening I enter the night and walk far away so I need not howl with pain at my window along with my cats, dogs and countless ills for the sake of the wind my face becomes that of a dove repeating my absence in the songs they give the meaning to my flames My mother's eyes will flood with pride as she shows the poor the road and the honour of my vanishing isn't it so, that darkness is so weak degraded by a gleam who said that darkness was scary? I'll show you how this candle I hold in my left chews it up! as I carry it looking for the corpse of time when a war passed by from here under the poverty line I walk along with my dead sister who will live forever on those streets I keep chattering on in emptiness kneeling on the garbage around me wondering how painful it is to accompany the lost heroes of my stories POEM BY: MAYTHEM ALHARBI TRANSLATED BY: AMAL IBRAHIM REVISED BY: GEORGE SZIRTES |
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بغداد/ حي الوحدة/ قرب تقاطع عمارة الشروق/ فرع المطبخ الانكليزي/ مركز تنوع/ ط1
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