Elia Abu Madi

Elia Abu Madi Poems

Elia Abu Madi Biography

Elia Abu Madi (also known as Elia D. Madey; Arabic: إيليا أبو ماضي‎ Īlyā Abū Māḍī [note 1]) (1889 or 1890 – 23 November 1957) was a Lebanese-American poet. Abu Madi was born in the village of Al-Muhaydithah, now part of Bikfaya, Lebanon, in 1889 or 1890. At the age of 11 he moved to Alexandria, Egypt where he worked with his uncle. In 1911, Elia Abu Madi published his first collection of poems, Tazkar al-Madi. That same year he left Egypt for the United States, where he settled in Cincinnati, Ohio. In 1916 he moved to New York and began a career in journalism. In New York Abu Madi met and worked with a number of Arab-American poets including Khalil Gibran. He married the daughter of Najib Diyab, editor of the Arabic-language magazine Mirat al-Gharb, and became the chief editor of that publication in 1918. His second poetry collection, Diwan Iliya Abu Madi, was published in New York in 1919; his third and most important collection, Al-Jadawil ("The Streams"), appeared in 1927. His other books were Al-Khama'il (1940) and Tibr wa Turab (posthumous, 1960). In 1929 Abu Madi founded his own periodical, Al-Samir, in Brooklyn. It began as a monthly but after a few years appeared five times a week. His poems are very well known among Arabs; journalist Gregory Orfalea wrote that "his poetry is as commonplace and memorized in the Arab world as that of Robert Frost is in ours."[note 2] he died in 1957.)

The Best Poem Of Elia Abu Madi

The Clay

At one time, Mr. Clay forgot that he was no more than mud
So, he walked insolently, bragged and boasted.
Body covered with fine silk,
He glorified himself in a self-admiring manner,
Purse full, he became haughty and rebellious!
Brother, turn not your face away from me;
I am not a charcoal, nor are you a bright star.
You did not make the silk you are wearing,
Nor the jewels with which you adorn yourself.
You cannot eat gold when hungry,
Nor drink strung pearls when thirsty.
In your fine attire, you suffer and rejoice,
Just like me in my tattered clothes.
You entertain hopes during the day,
Have dreams and visions at night.
My heart, too, has sweet dreams,
Just like yours, for it is not made of stone

Are all my wishes made of dust,
While yours fashioned of pure gold?
Or are all my wishes doomed to vanish
While yours are destined for immortality?
Nay! My wishes and yours, alike, come and go,
Like any others, for nothing is everlasting.
You, who so bent on exhibiting self-esteem,
When struck by disease, don't you complain and groan?
Don't you sigh and moan?
When your sweetheart forsakes you,
Don't you sorely miss her when remembering her?
Like me, you smile for favorable circumstances
And frown when visited by calamitous events.
Are my tears bitter like gall,
While yours are nectar-sweet?
Is my weeping a humiliation
While yours is victory?
Are my smiles waterless like a desert mirage,

While yours are shimmering jewels
One firmament spreads over both of us,
A scene that amazes and dazzles my sight,
While your eyes unmindful, lacking awareness of it.
One single moon gazes upon us,
As she gazes upon a shack and magnificent edifice.
If she seems bright to your eyes,
I do not see her dark from the crack of my shanty.
The same stars you see, I also behold,
When faint or gloriously ablaze.
With all your riches, you are no closer to them than me,
Nor am I any distant from them, despite my wretchedness
Like me, from dust you came, and to dust you shall return,
Why then so much pride and aloofness?
You were a child when I was a child,
You will grow old; I, too, will advance in age
And become toothless.
I neither know where I came from,
I possess no knowledge of my past
Nor do I know what the future holds for me.
If you do know, say it

Otherwise, why should you fancy yourself unique
You live in a stately palace, well-protected by armed guards
And fenced all-around with high walls,
Prevent, if you will, the night from spreading over it,
Stop the fog from thickly gathering above it.
Notice how the light enters freely
without ever asking for your permission!
So why should it be chased away?
One single resting place is your final lot,
Do you know how many lots and spots
Your decaying corpse will provide
For grazing worms and hungry maggots?
You have closed the doors of your palace in my face
When chased by storms and threatened by inclement weather,
Yet you made accommodations
And generously provided for your dogs and cats.
Thus, I heard life laughing at me for my begging
And mocking you for your miserly denial
You who have a charmingly beautiful garden,
With water, birds, flowers, and fragrant shrubs,
Rebuke then the wind for swaying, bending
And upsetting the trees in your garden.

And stop, if you can, the water in the pond,
Order it not to make swishing sounds
Unless in your presence, under your watchful eye.
When the bird sings on the tall tree,
It cares not, whether you or I
Listen to its melodies.
Flowers deride not my poverty,
Nor coax and flatter your riches.
Do you consider the river to be exclusively yours?

Elia Abu Madi Comments