Tripartite Poem by hussein N. Jabr AlIbadi

By: Hussein N. Jabr al-ibadi Baghdad/1986
(1)
Slow to Depart

Mirrors, beyond my eyes, i crushed.
Yesterday was just a fleeting moment;
Today is more severe
Than the scars on the skin
in which i hide.
Pale was what remained of me, and
Fast what’d past of my age.
Glory to the successive moments.
We are all passing away
Unnoticed,
Though slow to depart.

(2)
Under the Rain

We shall meet there in winter
At the rail station...in Baghdad:
Two strange sparrows-
Wet and shivering under the rain-
Migrated from the farthest south,
To be left there, nestless.
We've lost our home and all the addresses
of our friends.
There remained alone, Known to no one but the rain.

(3)
The Sun

For not to be celled
The sun rounds its face-
imprisoned; yet, in its light.
But, when released,
Colourless eyes it becomes
Burning with darkling core,
Devouring its light buds.
When will you be, O, Sun,
As in the dreams of those
Who own no overcoats?

An iraqi Sonnet

When I returned to a place,
Where I, there, saw you first,
I, then, found a face
Of you glitterin’ with taste
Of love and tears and kisses.

I turned back and cried
For you’re not on the shore,
I thought you were to hide
So as to flame me more,
My heart then went to pieces.

Come here and live with me,
Let’s call back old dreams,
Why don’t you try to be
My heart’s bright gleams.





By: Hussein N. Jabr al-ibadi Baghdad/1986
(1)
Slow to Depart

Mirrors, beyond my eyes, i crushed.
Yesterday was just a fleeting moment;
Today is more severe
Than the scars on the skin
in which i hide.
Pale was what remained of me, and
Fast what’d past of my age.
Glory to the successive moments.
We are all passing away
Unnoticed,
Though slow to depart.

(2)
Under the Rain

We shall meet there in winter
At the rail station...in Baghdad:
Two strange sparrows-
Wet and shivering under the rain-
Migrated from the farthest south,
To be left there, nestless.
We've lost our home and all the addresses
of our friends.
There remained alone, Known to no one but the rain.

(3)
The Sun

For not to be celled
The sun rounds its face-
imprisoned; yet, in its light.
But, when released,
Colourless eyes it becomes
Burning with darkling core,
Devouring its light buds.
When will you be, O, Sun,
As in the dreams of those
Who own no overcoats?

An iraqi Sonnet

When I returned to a place,
Where I, there, saw you first,
I, then, found a face
Of you glitterin’ with taste
Of love and tears and kisses.

I turned back and cried
For you’re not on the shore,
I thought you were to hide
So as to flame me more,
My heart then went to pieces.

Come here and live with me,
Let’s call back old dreams,
Why don’t you try to be
My heart’s bright gleams.