Contemporary World Literature: Poetry from Palestine
Poems by Nizar Sartawi
Nizar Sartawi is a Palestinian poet and translator committed to building bridges between nations of the globe through poetry and translation. He believes that poetry, like other arts, has the power of bringing people together.
Sartawi is a member of various international literary and cultural organizations. He has participated in many Arab and international literary conferences and poetry and festivals in Jordan, Palestine, Lebanon, Morocco, Egypt, Dubai, Sharjah, Kosovo, and India.
Sartawi has published about 30 books. His poetry and translations have been anthologized and published in numerous international literary journals, magazines, newspapers. His poetry has been translated into more than a dozen languages.
Sartawi was awarded the first prize in translation by Al-Nour Literary Organization (1913), Naji Naaman Award for Creativity (2018), and Jerusalem Intellectuals Forum Honorary Award (2019).
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Violas
O how your heart
Throbs aloud
When you glimpse those
Autumn violas
On your windowsill!
How only to them
You un-bosom
Your hidden qualms!
How your eyes sparkle
With joy
When their petite petals
Wave at you!
~ ~ ~ ~
What will you do when
Winter comes
And violas go to sleep?
When ghosts of frost
Perch on your eyelids
Sprawl on your chest
Creep into your heart?
When death comes close
With none nearby
To comfort you –
Not even a viola?
* * * * *
The wind and the Olive Tree
The vengeful wind of autumn roared
Threateningly
At the olive tree:
“I’ve come again
For you old witch
I’ll unravel your dark green dress,
Stitch by stitch
I’ll break your limbs
I’ll crush your bones
Until the skies hear your moans
I’ll spill you blood
Until the dry dirt in these fields
Turns into mud!
“I know,”
Replied the thick rough trunk,
“You told me so
Twelve months ago.”
* * * * *
Ishmael’s Song
Why are we staying here?
O mother,
In a barren land
No plants
No grass
No water
No love!
And why, O mother
Do these sand dunes sneer?
And those clouds jeer
When our scrawny sheep
Crawls!
And where is father,
O mother?
Has he abandoned us?
O mother
And has God too?
* * * * *
Gun Smoke
Where are they now
Those carefree larks
That gathered straw
And built their nests
In yonder meadow!
Where are
Their morning songs
Their noon siestas
Their evening whispers?
All gone
Since these lands were
Colonized
By gun smoke
* * * * *
Leaf
Little lonely leaf
Knocking on the glass door
With your whole feeble
Form
Gaping at me
Begging for
Refuge!
Poor purplish fragile fugitive
Tired –
Of running away
From nook to nook
Threatened –
By the ruthless autumn wind
And unheralded rain?
Frightened –
By the heavy plodding pedestrian feet
The hideous hooves
And horrendous hoops!
Come in
Tiny timid tramp!
Let’s sit
Side by side
To tell silently our sad story
And voicelessly lull each other
To sleep!
… For I too
Am but a deciduous
Leaf
Counting the days
Before its fall
* * * * *
Mailbox
So every evening
Coming back home
I take a knowing peek
Inside the old mailbox
And knowing I know,
It seems to me,
The rude bare bottom
Sneers at me
* * * * *
Rain
Listen sweetheart!
Listen!
Outside the rain
Whinnies out loud
As it pummels the little hill
And rests a while
Then gently… gently penetrates
The soggy soft soil
Hear the blossoms on the cherry tree
Moaning with pain
* * * * *
Crepuscular Moments
Do you remember?
Those late afternoons
When you and I
Sat
On the edge of the cliff!
We kept our eyes fixed
On the west horizon
As the sun
Tired of the day’s toil
Pulled himself loose
From the tenacious tentacles of the
Clouds!
You held my fingers tight
As we both watched him
Bathe
In the purple red blue orange mass of mist
Then slowly sink
In the deep
Hidden behind the hazy hills!
* * * * *
Words
Words words words
Here and there
I walk
They walk
I hop
They hop
I run
They run
I slow
They slow
I stop
They stop
I stretch my hand
To catch them
They flap their wings
And fly away
* * * * *
The Bedouin’s Song
I’m just a Bedouin:
I live in a tent –
Cozy an’ fair
Its fabric woven
From rough goat-hair –
A shady cover
In the summer
A rain-proof shelter
In the winter
My possessions:
A single garment – a loose black robe
I call a thobe
A pair of worn-out sandals
A coffee kit
And other little things
I put in a sack
That may not fit
With country-siders’ appetites
Or urbanites’
My homeland:
All this infinite expanse
Of deep beige sands
My sole companion:
A faithful camel
Who carries me
And all my stuff
Together we cross the endless desert
And when i sing
Some cameleer song
He gets so light
Out of delight
And makes as if to fly
Towards the blue sky
_________________________
Coming late… because of personal circumstances related to Corona. But I’d like to express my sincerest gratitude to the team of editors of the prestigious Sindh Courier. It is a great honor indeed to be published here.
I must also add that I cannot thank you enough for those wonderful pictures, so well-chosen to fit each poem….
It’s great compliment for Sindh Courier. You are always welcome.
Editor
Thank you dear editor. I am really humbled. Just one clarification. I wrote these poems in English not in Arabic. In other words these are not translations.
Actually I write in both languages, and there are a few poems translated from one language to the other and vise versa. But not these in particular. Thanks again. I may send some more if that is possible. I can also send poems by other Arab poets that I translated into English if this is allowed. Greetings from Amman, Jordan.
We will correct it. Thanks for clarification.