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Three Poems

  • Rashid Hussain
  • Salma Harland
  • Dana Barqawi
  • October 2023
Artwork by Dana Barqawi
  • Art, Poem
  • Protest

Poems by Rashid Hussain, translated from Arabic by Salma Harland

Against

ضد

I’m against my country’s revolutionaries
Wounding an ear of wheat
Against the child
               Any child
Holding a grenade
Against my sister
Studying the muscles of a gun
Against it all
But
What can a prophet
               A prophetess
Do when their eyes are forced to drink
The sight of the raiders’ hordes?
I’m against my child
Becoming a hero at ten
Against the tree flowering
             Explosives
Against the branches
            Becoming gallows
Against the flowerbeds
             Becoming trenches
Against it all
But
After fire razes my country
            My friends
            My land
How can I stop my poems from
            Becoming guns?
ضدُّ.. أن يجرحَ ثوّارُ بلادي سنبلةْ
ضدُّ.. أن يحملَ طفلٌ أيُّ طفلٍ قنبلةْ
ضدُّ.. أن تدرسَ أختي عضلاتُ البندقيّةْ
ضدُّ ما شئتم ولكن
ما الذي يفعلهُ حتّى نبيٌّ أو نبيّةْ
حينما تشربُ عينيهِ وعينيها
خيولُ القتلة؟
ضدُّ.. أن يصبحَ طفلي بطلاً في العاشرةْ
ضدُّ.. أن يثمرَ ألغاماً فؤادُ الشجرةْ
ضدُّ.. أن تصبحَ أغصانُ بساتيني مشانقْ
ضدُّ.. تحويل حياض الوردِ في بيتي خنادقْ
ضدُّ ما شئتم ولكن
بعد إحراق بلادي ورفاقي وترابي
كيفَ لا تصبحُ أشعاري بنادقْ..!!

Excerpt from Gaza, My Love

حبيبتي غزة (مقتطف)

I’m tired of empty words
O Gaza
I’m tired
Raging fires before me
The sea behind
I go towards the fire
And I drink from the flames

I’m tired
My Skin
My Bone
My Mind
Ablaze
And the fire drinks
From my eyes
مُتعَبٌ من خُطَبِ الأقزامِ
يا غزّة
مُتعَبْ..
وورائي البَحرُ
والنّارُ أمامي
ولذا.. أمشي على قلبي
إلى النّارِ
وأشرَبْ

مُتعَبٌ..
جلدي استوى
عظمي استوى
عقلي استوى
والنّارُ من عينيَّ
تشرَبْ

In a State of War

في حالة حرب

My poetry is in a state of war
My love is in a state of war
My father’s olives are in a state of war
What have they left me
But to say
I’m in a state of war?
Even poetry lives
And dies
While the people remain
Forever
In a state of war
شعري في حالةِ حربْ
حبي في حالةِ حربْ
زيتونُ أبي في حالةِ حربْ
ماذا تركوا لي غيرَ القولِ: أنا في حالةِ حربْ؟..
لكن..
الشعرُ يعيشُ
الشعرُ يموتُ
ويبقى الشعبْ..
أبداً في حالةِ حربْ

Translator’s Note:

Rashid Hussain (1936 – 1977) was a Palestinian-American poet, journalist, Hebrew-Arabic translator, and UN correspondent. During his lifetime, he was critically acclaimed by Jewish and Arab writers alike for his poetic works; translations between Hebrew and Arabic; and numerous collaborations with Jewish poet-translators. A Palestinian who grew up under British-mandate Palestine, Hussain witnessed the 1948 Arab-Israeli War and the 1948 Palestinian expulsion and flight (also known as the Nakba) before spending the last few decades of his life in exile in Paris and in New York with his Jewish American wife Ann Lavee Hussain. On 2 February 1977, he died in a fire at his New York apartment under dubious circumstances. Hussain’s works engages with the human consequences of war, reflecting on hunger, anger, and forced displacement. Palestine’s award-winning national poet Mahmoud Darwish often commended Hussain’s poetic works, considering him the father of modern Palestinian poetry. These poems are in the public domain, previously published in 1957 and 1958.

  • history occupation palestine translation violence war

Rashid Hussain

Rashid Hussain (1936 – 1977) was a Palestinian poet, journalist, educator, and Hebrew-Arabic translator. He has three known poetry books to his name, including Ma’ al-fajr (At Dawn) (1957) and Ana al-ard la tahrimini al-matar (I’m the Earth, Don’t Deny Me the Rain) (1976). He also edited and translated several poets from Hebrew, including the works of Hayim Nahman Bialik. He is considered the father of modern Palestinian poetry.

Salma Harland

Salma Harland is a British-Egyptian literary translator who works between Arabic and English. She was a 2022 Travel Fellow with the American Literary Translators Association; a recipient of one of the Dutch Foundation for Literature's 2023 Translation Grants; and a longlistee for the 2022-23 John Dryden Translation Prize. Her critical writings and translations have appeared in literary journals and magazines such as The Massachusetts Review, Modern Poetry in Translation, ArabLit Quarterly, and Poetry London, and in anthologies with the British National Centre for Writing and Honna-Elles Feminist Publishing House. She tweets as @salmaharland.

Dana Barqawi

Dana Barqawi is a multidisciplinary artist and urban planner, based in Amman, Jordan. She holds a BSc in Architecture and a double MSc in International Cooperation, Urban Development & Emergency Architecture.

For Dana, the act of artistic creation is inseparable from notions of the real world. In times where socio-political changes compose an inherent part of our reality, Dana chooses to reflect the context within her work, consequently creating politically and socially engaged art. Dana’s work challenges colonial narratives, explores indigenous identities, and aspects of womanhood and community. This approach unfolded as a result of her years of work with INGOs and Government bodies, and her International training spanning Europe, Africa & the Middle East focusing on community participation and development.

Growing up with women who painted, sewed, designed, and made art, Dana extends herself through artistry and has a long-standing fascination with detail. Working from a workshop studio in Amman, her work involves experimenting with material and is constantly evolving.

She participated in exhibitions in Amman, Washington DC, Connecticut and Seoul, and she curated an exhibition in collaboration with an academic entity. Dana’s work has been published in World Literature Today, Discontent Magazine, and Meridians Journal.

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I first met the Gaza Strip on a television screen back in 2004, at eleven years old. 

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To colonizing propagandists, our story is the American Dream. To us, it’s an ongoing tragedy.

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My Gifts from Gaza

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Baba once mentioned how Palestinians were the patient dough of the Taboon. No matter how much we are kneaded, beaten, and stretched beyond our limits, our capacity for hope is supernatural. Taboon, even burnt beyond recognition, is still Taboon.

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  • Art, Poem
Three Poems

Rashid Hussain , Salma Harland , Dana Barqawi

I’m against my country’s revolutionaries / Wounding an ear of wheat / Against the child / Any child / Holding a grenade

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He wears winter and searches for another land, / Where he will say to the raining clouds, / To sow the sea in a land other than the one we know. / Hope was the last breath of the traveler, / Hope was his land.

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I want to whisper to him that his existence / Is revolutionary, that his sumud is breathtaking, that I see his gentleness

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You learn to make your gods as small as a coffee cup and hide your future in it

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Have you ever wondered what hell feels like on Earth?

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Recipe for Being Palestinian

Alia Yunis , May Grabli

Rise like our bread to speak for those who have no food.

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There was no time to mourn. No time for the dead or the living.

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You’ve burned the sheikh’s field, worth a lifetime of planting / and fed him a variety of jail cells instead.

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God said (and already you can tell / I’m making this up), / If you lift a rock, I am there.

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[ ∙∙∙ ]

Fady Joudah , Fadia Jawdat

This is what faith taught you. / This way, art. That way, God.

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policy

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