Adonis Diaries

Posts Tagged ‘Nizar Kabbani

Cuddling in my arms March 26, 2010

You are snoozing on my arm darling,

A kid sleeping over her schoolbook.

My arm is no longer mine darling:

It is an extension of your flesh, nerves, and warm heart;

It is part of your sorrows, wet eyelids, and soft breath.

Do you remember how often you threw snowballs at me?

And come rushing to cuddle in my arms for warmth?

You are no longer an extension of my arm darling:

Your love is deeply sculpted by knife in its nerves.

You came close and asked for my autograph;

You almost begged for a single line of poetry from me.

“A poem I could hide in my black long hair”, you said;

“And let it rest a baby over my soft pillow”.

I know, you the lovely warm and shiny springtime,

That the poems of my youth

Built beauty in every beautiful girl

And blossomed inanimate bosoms.

I know, the poems of my youth set afire stars,

Ruined kingdoms and marriages.

It is my hot heart that was behind my hands, ink, and papers.

This heart has retreated behind cigarette smokes.

Tis no time to be fooled my shiny springtime.

What you see is an empty temple,

In front of you stands a cold, cold crumbling column.

The poems that set your heart on fire are yours.

Melt them in your hear,

Get wild, go wild and set fires

Burn, burn this dried up world.

A new fresh dawn must arise with every generation.

Note: Two abridged poems combined in one from the Syrian poet Nizar Kabbani

Dozing over her schoolbook

You are snoozing on my arm darling

A kid dozing over her schoolbook.

My arm is no longer mine darling

It is an extension of your flesh, nerves, and warm heart;

It is part of your sorrows, wet eyelids, and soft breath.

Do you remember how often you threw snowballs at me

Then come rushing to cuddle in my arms for warmth?

You are no longer an extension of my arm darling

Your love is deeply sculpted by knife in my nerves.

You came close and asked for my autograph;

You almost begged for a single line of poetry.

“A poem I could hide in my black long hair”, you said;

“And let it rest like a baby, over my soft pillow”.

I know, my lovely warm and shiny springtime,

I know that the poems of my youth

Painted beauty in every beautiful girl

And it did blossom inanimate bosoms.

I know, the poems of my youth set afire stars,

Ruined kingdoms and marriages.

It is my hot heart that was behind my hands, ink, and papers.

This heart has retreated behind cigarette smokes.

Tis no time to be fooled my shiny springtime.

What you see is an empty temple

In front of you stands a cold, icy crumbling column.

The poems that set your heart on fire are yours.

Melt them in your heart

Get wild, go wild and set fires

Burn, burn this drying world.

A new fresh dawn must arise with every generation.

Note: Two abridged poems combined in one from the late Syrian poet Nizar Kabbani

 “You are my problem”

A poem of late Syrian Niza Kebbani (Kabbany, the poet of women) is translated in two version: My almost literal English and Jamil Berry’s French version.

“My sensation is vaster than my language can express

My feeling toward you overcome my voice

Surpasses my atrophied vocal chords and my fat lips.

And my writing talent is slipping.

I hate my books

My problem is

You are my problem

Jamil Berry · 

TRADUCTION pour les amis francophones d’un poème de Nizar KABBANI ( Poète de la Femme )

EN VAIN…

Mon ressenti, envers vous Madame
Dépasse ma langue et mon âme
Par delà le bien ; par delà le mal
Il étouffe ma voix dans mes cordes vocales

Mes mots , mes écrits, j’en suis l’orfèvre
Devenus plus charnus que mes lèvres.
Je les trouve laids, je les hais même
Depuis que ” Vous” êtes devenue
Mon problème …

إِحْسَاسِي أَكْبَرُ مِنْ لُغَتِي

شُعُورِي نَحْوُكِ يَتَخَطَىصَوْتِي
, يَتَخَطَى حُنْجُرَ
تِيعَبَثاً مَا أَكْتُبُ
,مَا دَامَتْكَلِمَاتِي أَوْسَعُُ مِنْ شَفَتَيْ وَ
أُكْرِهُهَا كُلُ كِتَبَاتِي
مُشْكِلَتِي أَنَكِ مُشْكِلَتِي.

 

Updated “About” (Oct. 29/2013)

I started this blog on September 17, 2008.  The total number of articles published has reached 3,800 posts and the total number of hits is  over 290,000, and the daily hits have crossed the 400 mark.

You have choices among 42 categories to navigate around. Recently, on September 12, I added a new category “Daydream Projects“:  Just imagine this gigantic brainstorm networking sessions if a small fraction of mankind decides to publish their daydreaming projects with plenty of details. Wouldn’t daydreaming be considered a very productive endeavors?

I post on average of 10 new articles per week and I have been posting a list of articles published each week with the proper ready links for viewing.  I figured out that every new post generates 75 hits within a year, and keeps increasing fast.

You may enjoy the category poems (poems of mine, and translated ones from Arabic or French). I had posted my autobiography, two novels, short stories, and plenty of detailed book reviews.

Last year was the most glorious year in my life.

Penniless but publishing, and associated with the most abject financial condition I have experienced… I am graced of feeling the same zest in publishing almost everyday, kind of 2 posts per day, just not to overwhelm the reader with more reading.

I do read and write in three languages English, French, and Arabic.  I read books, small and large, old and current, classical and common, biased and “balanced”.  I read dailies and their editorials. I read magazines, serious ones and tabloids, the weekly French “Courrier International“, bi-weekly, and monthly issues, including  the French monthly “Le Monde Diplomatique“, “Science et Vie”

I uncover nuggets in almost all my readings and then report themes after elaboration, analysis, and exercising my individual reflection.

My posts are no cut and paste gimmicks, and they lack pictures, images and videos: I don’t have the tools for recommended visual inputs, and I have no patience for navigating the net. You may start accessing my Home page and then select one of the categories of your interest and navigate from there.  I added the category “Time for Outrage“.

I understand that the task of publishing carries responsibility to the general public and I have to do my due diligence in reading a lot, reflecting, and exposing various views and perspectives before extending my current convictions.

I have been writing for my own pleasure for years, such as short poems, diaries, and attempts to introspection in order to get in touch with my emotions and my models on life, universe, and a sustainable earth within my history growth context.  WordPress.com made it easy to taking the drastic plunge into communicating with the public.

It is a daily communion that starts by receiving comments before offering opinions, and do reply to developed opinions and comments.  I am reminded that life exercises its cyclical rights and I wish your ebbing period would not last longer than necessary, and that it would not affect your optimism.

I wish that you have a support system to remind you that life is wonderful, it is beautiful, and it is exciting.  There is a tomorrow but surely not better than today, since you are still alive!

I realized that publishing electronically is not considered by many political institutions as serious matter, since many do not navigate fast communication mediums on a wide scale yet; as if people read hard copy manuscripts or dailies!  Well, I got a new life of publishing what I had  expressed in years of writing for myself.  I now have to consider my target audience of readers who patronize my blog:  There is a dividing line between writing and publishing, because responsibility to others comes in publishing.

If you are interested in reading biographies of people “Not famous” or “Not glamorous”, then you may also enjoy reading my auto-biography titled “Introspection of a confused man”.

Anyway, most of my categories that are not related to politics, history, religions, sciences, engineering, health, or book reviews are about myself.   It appears that my Book Reviews category is the most favored so far; closely trailed by sex/seduction categories, and religious topics.

I earned a PhD degree in Industrial/Human Factors/ system design engineering, over 20 years ago from the USA but I refused to practice until recently when I decided to teach in universities and had this lovely opportunity to write over 50 engineering articles published in the category “Professional articles“, “Human Factors in Engineering” and lately in the category “Engineering/research”.

I realized that I love best to read and disseminate what I wrote, and wordpress.com was the ideal platform to initiating people to publishing and expressing their opinions without any kinds of censorship.  I wish the publishers of articles and bloggers to keep in mind the dividing line between writing for comprehending and reflecting on their own positions and feelings, and just publishing.

I read and write daily, a lot, and hit libraries and follow up on news and editorials and feel serious on disseminating what I read.  I even summarize controversial books and offer my opinions ; yes, I love to be controversial, otherwise I might just rot.

A sample of a translated poem:

Your blue sea eyes

On the deck of your blue eyes is raining

Audible vibrating lights.

On the port of your blue eyes,

From a tiny open window,

A view of faraway birds swarming,

Searching for yet undiscovered islands.

On the deck of your blue eyes

Summer snow is falling.

I am a kid jumping over rocks

Deeply inhaling the sea wind

And then returns like a weary bird.

On the port of your blue eyes

I dream of oceans and navigation.

If I were a sea farer

If anyone lent me a boat

I would surely ease up my boat closer

To your blue sea eyes

Every sundown.

Note: This poem is an abridged free translation from Arabic of the famous late Syrian poet Nizar Kabbani.

Port of your blue sea eyes

Blue sea eyes; 

On the deck of your blue eyes rain

Audible vibrating lights.

On the port of your blue eyes

From a tiny open window

A view

Of faraway birds swarming,

Searching for yet undiscovered islands.

On the deck of your blue eyes

Summer snow is falling.

I am a kid jumping over rocks

Deeply inhaling the sea wind

And then returns a weary bird.

On the port of your blue eyes

I dream of oceans and navigation.

If I were a seafarer

If anyone lent me a boat

I would surely ease up my boat closer

To your blue sea eyes

Every sundown.

Note 1: An abridged free translation from Arabic of the famous late Syrian poet Nizar Kabbani.

 

Dozing over her schoolbook

You are snoozing on my arm darling

A kid dozing over her schoolbook.

My arm is no longer mine darling

It is an extension of your flesh, nerves, and warm heart;

It is part of your sorrows, wet eyelids, and soft breath.

Do you remember how often you threw snowballs at me

Then come rushing to cuddle in my arms for warmth?

You are no longer an extension of my arm darling

Your love is deeply sculpted by knife in my nerves.

You came close and asked for my autograph;

You almost begged for a single line of poetry.

“A poem I could hide in my black long hair”, you said;

“And let it rest like a baby, over my soft pillow”.

I know, my lovely warm and shiny springtime,

I know that the poems of my youth

Painted beauty in every beautiful girl

And it did blossom inanimate bosoms.

I know, the poems of my youth set afire stars,

Ruined kingdoms and marriages.

It is my hot heart that was behind my hands, ink, and papers.

This heart has retreated behind cigarette smokes.

Tis no time to be fooled my shiny springtime.

What you see is an empty temple

In front of you stands a cold, icy crumbling column.

The poems that set your heart on fire are yours.

Melt them in your heart

Get wild, go wild and set fires

Burn, burn this drying world.

A new fresh dawn must arise with every generation.

Note: Two abridged poems combined in one from the late Syrian poet Nizar Kabbani

Cuddling in my arms; 

You are snoozing on my arm darling,

A kid sleeping over her schoolbook.

My arm is no longer mine darling:

It is an extension of your flesh, nerves, and warm heart;

It is part of your sorrows, wet eyelids, and soft breath.

Do you remember how often you threw snowballs at me?

And come rushing to cuddle in my arms for warmth?

You are no longer an extension of my arm darling:

Your love is deeply sculpted by knife in its nerves.

You came close and asked for my autograph;

You almost begged for a single line of poetry from me.

“A poem I could hide in my black long hair”, you said;

“And let it rest a baby over my soft pillow”.

I know, you the lovely warm and shiny springtime,

That the poems of my youth

Built beauty in every beautiful girl

And blossomed inanimate bosoms.

I know, the poems of my youth set afire stars,

Ruined kingdoms and marriages.

It is my hot heart that was behind my hands, ink, and papers.

This heart has retreated behind cigarette smokes.

Tis no time to be fooled my shiny springtime.

What you see is an empty temple,

In front of you stands a cold, cold crumbling column.

The poems that set your heart on fire are yours.

Melt them in your hear,

Get wild, go wild and set fires

Burn, burn this dried up world.

A new fresh dawn must arise with every generation.

Note: Two abridged poems combined in one from the Syrian poet Nizar Kabbani

Note:  I read and write in three languages English, French, and Arabic.  I read books, small and large, old and current, classical and common, biased and “balanced”.  I read dailies and their editorials. I read magazines, serious and tabloids, weekly, bi-weekly, and monthly issues.  I uncover nuggets in almost all my readings and then report themes after elaboration, analysis, and exercising my individual reflection.

My posts are no cut and paste gimmicks simply because I have no patience for navigating the net. You may start with the category “List of articles” and navigate from there.  Better yet, check the right hand side and select among my top posts of the week or the latest posted articles and then your are set for a lovely journey of over 1,600 articles.  Articles are so far grouped in 35 categories; I included the new category (Black culture/Creole).  Every new article is posted in the category “Finance/politics” before distribution into one of the categories. You will realize that I published two novels and my auto-biography.  I have nothing much to hide and I enjoy receiving detailed comments and feedback.

Since october 2008, I registered over 30,000 hits in total; I am averaging around 100 hits a day.  You may refer to my “About”: we may have met.  May reading lights your path.  Good reading.

Blue sea eyes; (Mar. 25, 2010)

On the deck of your blue eyes

Rain audible vibrating lights.

On the port of your blue eyes

From a tiny open window

A view

Of faraway birds sworming

Searching for yet undiscovered islands.

On the deck of your blue eyes

Summer snow is falling.

I am a kid jumping over rocks

Deeply inhaling the sea wind

And returns a weary bird.

On the port of your blue eyes

I dream of oceans and navigation.

If I were a sea farer

If anyone lent me a boat

I would surely ease my boat closer

To your blue sea eyes

Every sundown.

Note: An abridged free translation from Arabic of the famous late Syrian poet Nizar Kabbani.

Darling, your insuferable love; (Mar. 25, 2010)

Your love is a strange green bird

It grows on me like a bird grows

It pecks on my fingers and my eyelids

How did this beautiful green bird showed up?

I had no thought on the matter

Who is in love never thinks.

Your love is an insuferable baby

Who breaks everything on the way

He pays me visits on rainy days

He plays with my notebook and I am patient

He plays with my emotions and I am patient.

Your love is a trying baby

People sleep and he stays awake

A crying baby I have no heart to chastise.

Your love grows alone

Like wild flowers on my doorsteps

Your love is an island

Even dreams never reach it

No explanations and no words account for it.

What kind of love is yours my baby?

A burning candle?

Or a devastating storm?

All that I know of my emotions

Is you are my love.

Who is in love never ought to think.

Note: abridged free translation from Arabic of the late famous Syrian poet Nizar Kabbani


adonis49

adonis49

adonis49

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