Barada

Barada, oh father of all rivers
Oh, horse that races the days
Be, in our sad history, a prophet
Who receives inspiration from his lord
Millions acknowledge you as an Arab
Prince... so pray as an imam

Oh eyes of the gazelle in the desert of Sham
Look down. This is the age of lavender
They have detained you in the pavilions for a long time
We have woven tents from tears
God has witnessed that we have broken no promise
Or secured protection for those we love

Nizar Qabbani

Nizar Qabbani was a Syrian diplomat, poet, writer, publisher, and one of the most revered contemporary poets in the Arab world. Renowned for his evocative and sensual poetry, he has written extensively on themes of love, eroticism, feminism, and Arab nationalism. His literary works have left a significant impact on Arabic literature and culture, making him an iconic figure whose legacy persists beyond his lifetime.

Nizar Qabbani

Love Compared

Nizar Qabbani, Simple Poetry

Dialogue

Nizar Qabbani, Simple Poetry

The Wrathful

Nizar Qabbani, Simple Poetry

My Love (Do Not Ask Me)

Nizar Qabbani, Simple Poetry

English

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The Wrathful

O pupils of Gaza...
Teach us...
A little of what you have
For we have forgotten...
Teach us...
To be men
For we have men...
dough they become...
Teach us...
How the rocks become
in the children's hands,
precious diamond...
How it becomes
The child's bicycle, a mine
And the silk ribbon...
An ambush...
How the feeding bottle nipple...
If detained not
Turns into a knife....
O pupils of Gaza
Care not...
about our broadcasts...
And hear us not...
Strike...
Strike...
With all your powers
And firmly in your hands take matters
And ask us not...
We the people of arithmetic...
And of addition...
And of subtraction...
Your wars do carry on
And abstain from us...
We're the deserters
...

Nizar Qabbani

Damascus, What Are You Doing to Me?

1

My voice rings out, this time, from Damascus
It rings out from the house of my mother and father
In Sham. The geography of my body changes.
The cells of my blood become green.
My alphabet is green.
In Sham. A new mouth emerges for my mouth
A new voice emerges for my voice
And my fingers
Become a tribe

2

I return to Damascus
Riding on the backs of clouds
Riding the two most beautiful horses in the world
The horse of passion.
The horse of poetry.
I return after sixty years
To search for my umbilical cord,
For the Damascene barber who circumcised me,
For the midwife who tossed me in the basin under the bed
And received a gold lira from my father,
She left our house
On that day in March of 1923
Her hands stain...

Nizar Qabbani

Sultan

If I were promised safety,
if I could meet the Sultan
I would say to him:O my lord the Sultan!
my cloak has been torn by your ravenous dogs,
your spies are following me all the time.
Their eyes
their noses
their feet are chasing me
like destiny, like fate
They interrogate my wife
and write down all the names of my friends.
O Sultan!
Because I dare to approach your deaf walls,
because I tried to reveal my sadness and
tribulation,
I was beaten with my shoes.
O my lord the Sultan!
you have lost the war twice
because half our people
has no tongue.

Nizar Qabbani

A Damascene Moon

Green Tunisia, I have come to you as a lover
On my brow, a rose and a book
For I am the Damascene whose profession is passion
Whose singing turns the herbs green
A Damascene moon travels through my blood
Nightingales... and grain... and domes
From Damascus, jasmine begins its whiteness
And fragrances perfume themselves with her scent
From Damascus, water begins... for wherever
You lean your head, a stream flows
And poetry is a sparrow spreading its wings
Over Sham... and a poet is a voyager
From Damascus, love begins... for our ancestors
Worshipped beauty, they dissolved it, and they melted away
From Damascus, horses begin their journey
And the stirrups are tightened for the great conquest
From Damascus, eternity begins... and with her
Languages remain an...

Nizar Qabbani

When I Love You

When I love you
A new language springs up,
New cities, new countries discovered.
The hours breathe like puppies,
Wheat grows between the pages of books,
Birds fly from your eyes with tiding of honey,
Caravans ride from your breasts carrying Indian herbs,
The mangoes fall all around, the forests catch fire
And Nubian drums beat.

When I love you your breasts shake off their shame,
Turn into lightning and thunder, a sword, a sandy storm.
When I love you the Arab cities leap up and demonstrate
Against the ages of repression
And the ages
Of revenge against the laws of the tribe.
And I, when I love you,
March against ugliness,
Against the kings of salt,
Against the institutionalization of the desert.
And I shall continue to love you until the wo...

Nizar Qabbani

Jerusalem

I wept until my tears were dry
I prayed until the candles flickered
I knelt until the floor creaked
I asked about Mohammed and Christ
Oh Jerusalem, the fragrance of prophets
The shortest path between earth and sky
Oh Jerusalem, the citadel of laws
A beautiful child with fingers charred
and downcast eyes
You are the shady oasis passed by the Prophet
Your streets are melancholy
Your minarets are mourning
You, the young maiden dressed in black
Who rings the bells in the Nativity
On Saturday morning?
Who brings toys for the children
On Christmas eve?
Oh Jerusalem, the city of sorrow
A big tear wandering in the eye
Who will halt the aggression
On you, the pearl of religions?
Who will wash your bloody walls?
Who will safeguard the Bible...

Nizar Qabbani