Pain rose up
From beneath my doorstep.
It spread its sails in my heart,
And blocked my gates.
Abdel Latif Mubarak is an Egyptian poet and lyricist born in 1964 in Suez. He is widely recognized as one of the most important poets of the 1980s. His poems have been published in numerous literary journals in Egypt and the Arab world, including Arab Magazine, Kuwait Magazine, News Literature, Republic Newspaper, AI-Ahram, and The New Publishing Culture. Abdel Latif Mubarak’s fame rests on his distinctive poetic style, which skillfully combines the beauty of words with profound reflection on aspects of life and humanity. His verses are imbued with sensitivity, emotion, and a profound understanding of the human condition. Over the years, Mubarak has received numerous awards and accolades for his work. In 2014, he was honored with the Arab Media Union’s Shield of Excellence and Creativity, recognizing his significant impact on poetry and literature. In 2021, he also won the prestigious East Academy Shield of Excellence and Creativity, a testament to his continued perseverance and dedication to his craft. He won the Sergio Camellini International Award in Italy in 2025.
Pain rose up
Pain rose up
From beneath my doorstep.
It spread its sails in my heart,
And blocked my gates.
O tear of the lamb lost from the flock,
You still saw at the ropes of weeping
And are lost.
You still go against the grain;
Joy isn’t within you.
When, in the slave market,
You’re caught and sold,
You pull at my stirrups.
We were sold
By an extraordinary person.
He encircled our necks
With snares and sex,
So we wouldn’t understand
The unraveling of the issue and feel
That the distant one… is a sadist.
O Homeland, my provisions,
The slave traders, the pimps,
The voyeurs, the deceitfully bearded ones, have multiplied against you.
The clever ones, the clowns,
The bohemians have multiplied against you,
And the king is cowering.
The enemies have multiplied against you.
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درد اُڀريو (Pain Rose Up)
درد اڀريو
منهنجي چائنٺ جي هيٺان.
هن منهنجي دل ۾ پنهنجا سڙھ کوليا،
۽ منهنجا دروازا بند ڪري ڇڏيا.
اي ڌڻ کان وڇڙيل رِڍ جا ڳوڙها،
تون اڃا تائين روئڻ جي رسين کي ڏاري رهيو آهين
۽ ڀٽڪيل آهين.
تون اڃا تائين وهڪري جي ابتڙ هلي رهيو آهين؛
خوشي تنهنجي اندر ۾ ناهي.
جڏهن، غلامن جي بازار ۾،
توهان کي پڪڙيو ۽ وڪرو ڪيو وڃي ٿو،
تون منهنجي رڪيبن کي ڇڪين ٿو.
اسان کي وڪرو ڪيو ويو
هڪ عجيب شخص جي هٿان.
هن اسان جي ڳچيءَ ۾ گهيرو ڪيو
ڦاسين ۽ جنس جي ڄار سان،
ته جيئن اسان سمجهي نه سگهون
مسئلي جي گهرائي کي، ۽ محسوس نه ڪريون
ته اهو پري وارو هڪ ظالم آھي
اي وطن، منهنجي جنم ڀومي،
غلامن جا واپاري، دلال،
تکي نظر رکڻ وارا، ۽ ڪوڙيون ڏاڙهيون رکڻ وارا تو تي وڌي ويا آهن.
هوشيار، مسخرا،
۽ آواره گرد تو تي وڌي ويا آهن،
۽ بادشاهه ڪنڊ ۾ لڪل آهي.
تنهنجا دشمن وڌي ويا آهن.
(The poet translated himself the poem into Sindhi language through ChatGPT)
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