Poems Found in Translation: Samih Al-Qasim
Showing posts with label Samih Al-Qasim. Show all posts

Samih Al-Qasim: Rain On the Newsstand (From Arabic)

Rain On the Newsstand
By Samih Al-Qasim
Translated by A.Z. Foreman

Rain out of the blue 
Sky on the morning papers
Rain
The ink flows from one language into another.
The mannequin's features vanish from the cover
With the face of the athlete proud of his first prize.
Mascara runs, rampant, in an actress' eyes;
The bled crimson oozes;
Wounds open
On the op-ed page.
The kiosk closes its door.
Rain once more
Out of the dark on the late edition.


The Original:

مطر على كشك الصحف
سميح القاسم

مطر فجائي على صحف الصباح
مطر
يسح الحبر من لغة على لغة
تغيب ملامح المانيكان عن وجه الغلاف
ويختفي وجه الرياضي الفخور بكأسه الأولى
يذوب الكحل في عيني ممثّلة
ينز الأحمر القاني
وتنفتح الجراح
في صحفة الآراء
يغلق بابه الكشك الصغير
مطر،
على العدد الأخير

Samih Al-Qasim: Kafr Qasim (From Arabic)

The poem translated here deals with a massacre that was a particularly sad and enraging episode in Israeli history. See my note after the original text for more.

Kafr Qasim
By Samih Al-Qasim
Translated by A.Z. Foreman
Click to hear me recite the original in Arabic

No monument raised, no memorial, and no rose.
Not one line of verse to ease the slain
Not one curtain, not one blood-stained
Shred of our blameless brothers clothes.
Not one stone to engrave their names.
Not one thing. Only the shame.

Their circling ghosts have still not ceased

Digging up graves in Kafr Qasim's debris. 

The Original:

كَفرْ قاسم

لا نُصْبَ... لا زهرة... لا تذكار
لا بيت شعر يؤنّس القتلى ولا أستار
لا خِرقة مخضوبة بالدم من قميص
كان على اخوتنا الأبرار
لا حجرٌ خُطّت به أسماؤهم
لا شيء ... يا للعار!

اشباحهم ما بَرَحَت تدور
تَنْبُشُ في انقاض كفر قاسم القبور


On Kafr Qasim:

On October 29, 1956, on the same day the Israelis launched their attack on Egypt, the Israeli border patrol was given special orders. With the impending war in mind, authorities announced a 5:00 curfew (as opposed to the normal evening-curfew) in Arab villages on the border, bolstered with a shoot-to-kill order. Although it was already late afternoon when the order was given and the chief of the village of Kafr Qasim begged the authorities to rescind it, the Israeli military bureaucracy waffled and was ultimately unwilling to inconvenience itself. The villagers working in the fields were too far off to receive word of the curfew in time, and when they returned home, Lt. Gabriel Dahan carried out his orders and had his platoon open fire, murdering 48 civilians, including 13 children (one of them an 8 year old boy) and one pregnant woman. All were Israeli citizens.

It would seem the only reason the massacre was limited to Kafr Qasim, and didn't spread to the other villages where the death-curfew was in effect, is that the local commanders there couldn't bring themselves to obey such an order. (Though some accounts suggest that the shoot-to-kill order was limited to Kafr Qasim, even so, of those stationed in Kafr Qasim itself, Dahan's was the only platoon that did any shooting.)

News of the massacre was initially suppressed (Israel didn't get around to passing anything resembling a free speech law until decades later) for two months by order of Ben-Gurion, so that when the media blackout was lifted and the whole story spilled, it was seen as "old news" by the public in much of the (non-Arab) world, and even if not, it wasn't enough to occupy a whole news cycle. Though a trial was eventually held, and several officers convicted, most were pardoned- and those who weren't ultimately had their sentences reduced to 5 years or less. Indeed, several were promoted. Lt. Dahan was even placed in charge of Arab Affairs in Ramla, as a hilarious little joke from Ben Gurion. har har (sob). Colonel Issachar Shadmi, who was nominally in charge of the area to which the curfew applied, was later tried and found guilty on a technicality, a common tactic to prevent the true source of an order (in this case Shadmi's superiors) from being subject to legal scrutiny, or even verified. Shadmi served no jail time, and was ultimately punished with a fine of precisely one cent.

The trial also resulted in an absurd legal precedent: the judges presiding came to the conclusion that members of the military are not entitled to disobey orders for reasons of moral conviction or out of a subjective belief that a given order was illegal, nor did they have any duty to examine the legality of an order before obeying it, only that soldiers could, and had to, disobey those orders that are plainly illegal, leaving open the question of how one could determine which orders were plainly illegal without stopping to examine their legality, or how a soldier in the field could base that determination on anything other than subjective belief. (Meanwhile, somewhere in the cosmos, the ghost of Adolf Eichmann was chuckling.)

The massacre, being a fine manifestation of the extraordinarily high regard in which Israel held its Arab citizenry, quickly gained notoriety, and became a symbol for dissidence and resistance. The Israeli military realized that outright massacres of civilians were bad PR, and that it now had to resort to more civilized forms of dehumanization, such as humiliating hour-long personal searches at checkpoints, random arrests without charge, imprisonment of children to put pressure on their parents etc.

It would take another 10 years before the martial law under which Israeli Arabs lived was finally abolished, as Israel's policy toward its Arab citizens (at least officially, though hardly culturally) gradually changed to reflect the fact that Arabs were human. And it took until 2007 before president Shimon Peres finally gave an open full-throated presidential apology for the massacre which one of his predecessors had tried to cover up.

Samih Al-Qasim: If Only (From Arabic)

If Only
By Samih Al Qasim
Translated by A.Z. Foreman
Click to hear me recite the Arabic

O my country, an earring left to swing
From the ear of the earth with no rest;
My country ...a woman whose thighs are spread
Wide by a wind from the West,
My country the raft's one oar,
My country the missing son!
Will you one day rise up in my breast?
Will you become a country... like the rest?


The Original:


ولو
سميح القاسم

وطني يا قُرطاً يتأرجح
من أذن الكرة الأرضيّه
وطني..يا امرأة تفتح
فخذيها الريح الغربيه
وطني يا مجذاف القارب
وطني يا الولد الغائب
هل تنهض يوما ما فيا؟
هل تصبح وطنا...عاديّا؟


Samih al-Qasim: Travel Tickets (From Arabic)


Travel Tickets
By Samih al-Qasim
Translated by A.Z. Foreman 

The day I'm killed,
my killer, rifling through my pockets,
will find travel tickets:
One to peace,
one to the fields and the rain,
and one
to the conscience of humankind.

I beg you my dear killer: don't
Ignore them. Don't waste such a thing,
But take and use the tickets. Please
I beg you to go traveling. 



The Original:
تذاكر سفر

وعندما أٌقتَل في يومٍ من الأيام
سيَعثُر القاتل في جيبي
على تذاكِرِ السفر:
واحدة الى السلام
واحدة الى الحقول والمطر
واحدة
الى ضمائر البشر

ارجوك الّا تُهمِل التذاكر
يا قاتلي العزيز
ارجوك ان تسافر

Samih Al-Qasim: The End of a Discussion with a Prison Guard (From Arabic)

The End of a Discussion With a Prison-guard
By Samih Al-Qasim
Translated by A.Z. Foreman
Click to hear me recite the original Arabic

Through the eyehole of this little cell of mine
I can see the trees all smiling at me,
The rooftops crowded with my family,
The windows breaking into tears for me
And prayers for me.
Through the eyehole of this little cell of mine
I see your bigger cell just fine.


The Original:

خاتمةُ النقاش مع سجان
سميح القاسم

من كوّة زنزانتي الصغرى
ابصُرُ اشجاراً تبْسمُ لي
وسطوحاً يملأها اهلي
ونوافذ تبكي وتُصلّي
من اجلي
من كوةِ زنزانتي الصغرى
ابصرُ زنزانتك الكبرى

Samih Al-Qasim: Buchenwald (From Arabic)

Buchenwald
By Samih Al-Qasim
Translated by A.Z. Foreman
Click to hear me recite the original in Arabic

Have you forgotten how you were shamed in Buchenwald?
Do you remember how you were flamed in Buchenwald?
Have you forgotten your love in the great glossary of silence?
Do you remember your panic at the great sovereignty of death,
In the great nightmare of time,
That all the world would become a Buchenwald?
Whether you have forgotten or not,
The images of the dead
Remain among the flower wreaths...
And from among the dismembered,
A hand rises forth,
With palm nailed through, with wrist tattooed
As a sign unto all the planet.
Do you remember, or do you not?
Buchenwald-
Whether or not you've forgotten,
The images of the slaughtered
Remain among the flower wreathes.


The Original:

بوخنفالد
سميح القاسم

هل تنسى عارك في بوخنفالد
هل تذكر نارك في بخنفالد
هل تنسى حبك في قاموس الصمت
هل تذكر رعبك في ناموس الموت
في كابوس الوقت
ان يصبح كل العالم بوخنفالد؟
تنسى. لا تنسى. تبقى صور الموتى
بين أكاليل الورد
ومن الأشلاء البشرية
تطلع يد
مسمار في الكف ووشم في الزند
لافتة للكرة الأرضية
تذكر؟ لا تذكر؟
بوخنفالد
تنسى؟ لا تنسى؟
تبقى صور القتلى... بين أكاليل الورد...