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maythem alharbi

4/14/2014

2 Comments

 
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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 creation



Under 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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