#syrian poetry

[silentnaiad]

~ jasmine is the scent of exile ~

Mahmoud Darwish, from ‘A River Dies of Thirst’ / Raghid Nahhas, from ‘Fullmoon’ / Nizar Qabbani, from ‘A Damascene Moon’

#web weaving #mahmoud darwish #nizar qabbani #arabic poetry #syrian poetry #palestinian poetry #mine

[manwalksintobar]

The Diary of Beirut Under Siege // Adonis (Ali Ahmad Said)

[1] My era tells me bluntly: You do not belong. I answer bluntly: I do not belong, I try to understand you. Now I am a shadow Lost in the forest Of a skull [2] I'm on my feet, the wall is a fence —      The distance shrinks, a window recedes. Daylight is a thread Snipped by my lungs to stitch the evening. [3] All I said about my life and death Recurs in the silence Of the stone under my head … [4] Am I full of contradictions?  That is correct.      Now I am a plant.  Yesterday, when I was between fire           and water      I was a harvest.      Now I am a rose and live coal,      Now I am the sun and the shadow      I am not a god. Am I full of contradictions?  That is correct … [5] The moon always wears A stone helmet To fight its own shadows. [6] The door of my house is closed.      Darkness is a blanket:           A pale moon comes with           A handful of light           My words fall           To convey my gratitude. [7] The killing has changed the city's shape — This rock      is bone      This smoke people breathing. [8] We no longer meet, Rejection and exile keep us apart. The promises are dead, space is dead, Death alone has become our meeting point. [9] He shuts the door Not to trap his joy … But to free his grief. [10] A newscast      About a woman in love      Being killed,      About a boy being kidnapped      And a policeman growing into a wall. [11] Whatever comes it will be old      So take with you anything other than this madness — get ready           To stay a stranger … [12] They found people in sacks:      One without a head      One without a tongue or hands      One squashed      The rest without names. Have you gone mad?  Please.      Do not write about these things. [13] You will see      Say his name      Say I painted his face      Stretch your hand to him      Or walk like any man      Or smile      Or say I was once sad You will see      There is no homeland … [14] There may come a time when you'll be      Accepted to live deaf and dumb, and perhaps They'll let you mumble: death,                Life, resurrection —      And peace be upon you. [15] He wears Jihad uniform, struts in a mantle of ideas. A merchant — he does not sell clothes, he sells people. [16] They took him to a ditch and burnt him.      He was not a murderer, he was a boy.      He was not …                  He was a voice Vibrating, scaling the steps of space. And now he's fluting in the air. [17] Darkness. The earth's trees have become tears on heaven's cheeks. An eclipse in this place. Death snapped the city's branch and the friends departed. [18] You do not die because you are created or because you have a body      You die because you are the face of the future. [19] The flower that tempted the wind to carry its perfume                                                                                    Died yesterday. [20] The sun no longer rises It covers its feet with straw And slips away …

(translated from the Arabic by Abdullah al-Udhari)

#poetry #Adonis #Syrian poetry #Lebanese poetry #Abdullah al-Udhari #Beirut #siege #war #Lebanon #1982 #poems of protest #Arabic poetry

[noosphe-re]

أنا الدمشقيُّ لو شرّحتمُ جسدي...لسـالَ منهُ عناقيـدٌ وتفـّاحُ I am the Damascene, if you cut my body open...It shall spill grapes and apples

نزار قباني, القصيدة الدمشقية Nizar Qabbani, Damascene Poem

#quote #poetry #poem #Nizar Qabbani #Qabbani #Syria #Syrian poetry #Arabic poetry #Arabic #Damascus

[fawnaura]

Adonis, ‘Psalm’ tr. by Khaled Mattawa

#quote #adonis #fever #desire #love letter #poetry #syrian poetry #syrian poet

[thenewgothictwice]

"Dear eternity, I want a truce of love" by Ghadah Al-Samman.

"Dear eternity, I want a truce of love…

I was born in war and perhaps the nozzle of a cannon shot me.

In adolescence I was grabbed by a war,

My youth was baptized in the Lebanese war , and in love stories.

My whole life is full of wars with live ammunition from my blood –

And on the rhythm of my crazy heart, wandering between the shelter and the first line of fire…

And when the heart front subsides, the homeland front bursts…

Dear eternity, do not I have the right to ask for a short truce

Like ten years, to live it with my love in peace?

I was born with a bullet in my mouth

Dipped in blood…

my first pillow is a grenade, And my doll is a Kalashnikov submachine

Today, I raise the white flag for a truce for me

And another for my beloved Beirut,

a truce that lasts a short everlasting while : A thousand years and a year…"

#ghada al-samman #syrian poetry #i couldnt find the translation credit for this

[bones-ivy-breath]

The Past by Adonis (tr. Samuel Hazo), from “Transformations of the Lover”

Text ID:

Houses flee before its ghost that rises from the grave demanding vengeance.

#quote #typography #adonis #transformations of the lover #aesthetic #dark academia #dead academia #literature #the past #a haunting #dark things #original post #syrian poetry #arabic literature #arabic poetry

[existentialistes]

Adonis, from Selected Poems; The Wound

#not 2 be dramatic but this destroyed me and then spat me reborn #literature #adonis #poetry #on history #on wounds #Typography #words #mine #dark academia #light academia #syrian poetry #songs of mihyar the damascene #fragment

[citizen-of-a-floating-world]

Adonis

#poet #poetry in translation #poetry #poetic lines #quotes #fragments #literary quotes #literature #syrian poetry

[caramellovibez]

"I hadn't told them about you, but they saw you bathing in my eyes, I hadn't told them about you, but they saw you in my written words. The perfume of love cannot be concealed."

Nizar Qabbani

#literature #light acadamia aesthetic #books & libraries #poetic #arabic #syrian poetry

[nudeartpluspoetry]

"When I Love," by Nizar Qabbani

#youtube #syrian poetry #love poems #qabbani #arab poetry #poetry video

[soracities]

Adonis, from "The Desert (Diary of Beirut Under Siege)", The Pages of Day and Night, tr. Samuel Hazo [ID'd]

#q #lit #quotes #poetry #adonis #the desert #the pages of day and night #syrian lit #of war and violence #m #x

[typewriter-worries]

My lover asks me: "What is the difference between me and the sky?" The difference, my love, Is that when you laugh, I forget about the sky.

My Lover Asks Me, Nizar Qabbani

#your laughter fills me like a bell #my lover asks me #nizar qabbani #poetry #literature #syrian poets #dark academia #classic academia #light academia

[majestativa]

He lives in the longing, in the confusion between the dream and the tears.

— Adonis, When the Words Burn: An Anthology of Modern Arabic Poetry (1945-1987), transl by John Mikhail Asfour, (1993)

#Syrian #Adonis #When the Words Burn: An Anthology of Modern Arabic Poetry (1945-1987) #John Mikhail Asfour #(1993)

[fawnaura]

Adonis, ‘The Wound’ tr. by Khaled Mattawa

#quote #adonis #wound #reminder #grief #transformation #self #syrian poetry #syrian poet

[nostalgicvybe]

To never have been born may be the greatest blessing of all

#war #war photography #war aesthetic #war in ukraine #war in donbass #ukraine #russia #russian soldiers #chechen wars #syrian war #syrian #sadcore #sadnees #sad poetry #existential depression #existential nihilism #existential dread #nihilism #nihilist

[beljar]

I have told you. About the girl who sings at the window. And the gravel that breaks under the wheels of the train. About the cemetery that has been sleeping happily for centuries, I have told you. A flower from my body, every morning—And a flower from my body, every evening—And I talk about all that has happened to me. Once, I sat by you and cried.

I wished to express myself with actions: To break a glass. To open a window. To sleep. But I couldn’t. What do I talk about after twenty-six years. Or after twenty-six bullets fired into emptiness? I am tired of talking, of debt, and work. But I will never tire of freedom. And here I am, dreaming of one thing or a few things: That the word becomes bread and grapes, a bird or a bed.

"A Moon", By Riyad Al-Saleh Al-Hussein, Translated by Ghada Alatrash

#a moon #riyad al saleh #arabic poetry #ghada alatrash #translated literature #poem #dark acadamia aesthetic #quotes #syrian literature