My Mother
by Mahmoud Darwish

I long for my mother's bread

My mother's coffee

Her touch

Childhood memories grow up in me

Day after day

I must be worth my life

At the hour of my death

Worth the tears of my mother.

***

And if I come back one day

Take me as a veil to your eyelashes

Cover my bones with the grass

Blessed by your footsteps

Bind us together

With a lock of your hair

With a thread that trails from the back of your dress

I might become immortal

Become a God

If I touch the depths of your heart.

***

If I come back

Use me as wood to feed your fire

As the clothesline on the roof of your house

Without your blessing

I am too weak to stand.

***

I am old

Give me back the star maps of childhood

So that I

Along with the swallows

Can chart the path

Back to your waiting nest.

Exhortation to the Village 

by Ateif Khieri

Tomorrow the straitened wars
In darkness, suddenly,
the crates of fruit terrify
After two streets of grief
I know
Angels
and treacherous paths toward the lord
I know water before it is sullied,
cheapened by carefree mammals everyday
Piece by piece
I know despair in the form of a goat
I know the leavings of a homeless dove
before the horizon has had its fill
You believe in the sea
We preserve the story in salt
I believe in the sun and a split head
in wearing camouflage at a time of peace

In the caress of your hand, a soprano,
an aerial quivering on the roof of the village

تشجيع القرويات

الحروبُ النحيلةُ غداً
صدفةً في الظلام
أقفاصُ الفاكهة تخيف

أعرف بعد شارعين من الأسى
ملائكة
وطرقاً وخيمةً إلى الرب

أعرف الماء قبل أن يكتئب
في الثديات المرحة
يومياً بأجر زهيد

اليأس شيئاً فشيئا
على هيئة ماعز
أعرف فضلةً من يمامٍ غريب
قبل أن يشبع الأفق :

تعتقدين في البحر
نضع الحكايةَ في الملح
أعتقدُ في الشمس  والصداع النصفي
في المشاط الغليظ أوقات السلم
السبرانو ينبعث من يدٍ حانية
والهوائي منفعلاً على سقف قرية :

The literal translation of this poem was made by Samuel Wilder

The final translated version of the poem is by The Poetry Translation Workshop

Serpent Sky

This is from a chapbook of poetry I bought at a bookstore in Rabat, Morocco across the street from parliament. Moments after buying it, a labor protest broke out in the street, but we escaped unscathed!

Serpent Sky
by Mohammed Zuhayr

Two orphan moons in the Beirut night
in the harsh morning, a singular sun.
My will is of the galaxies
but your face is a barren planet.
How colorless, feeble I was
on the days of your resolve
no verdancy in your voice.
You returned my handshake
to pacify me with your wave of fire.
I wish to change your decree
to replace my ancient sun
with your serpent sky.

"When I Love"

This first post is a popular, relatively contemporary poem from a famous Syrian poet, Nizar Qabbani. Enjoy!

When I love

I feel that I am the king of time

I possess the earth and everything on it

and ride into the sun upon my horse.

***

When I love

I become liquid light

invisible to the eye

and the poems in my notebooks

become fields of mimosa and poppy.

***

When I love

the water gushes from my fingers

grass grows on my tongue

when I love

I become time outside all time.

***

When I love a woman

all the trees

run barefoot toward me...

عندما أحب

أنا أشعر بأنني ملك الوقت

اتمتع الأرض وعلى كل شيء

وركوب في الشمس على حصاني.

***

عندما أحب

أصبح ضوء السائل

غير مرئية للعين

والقصائد في الدفاتر بلدي

تصبح مجالات الميموزا والخشخاش.

***

عندما أحب

يتدفق الماء من أصابعي

العشب ينمو على لساني

عندما أحب

أصبح الوقت خارج كل الوقت.

***

عندما أحب امرأة

كل الأشجار

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