Very Short Stories Poem by Freeyad Ibrahim

(Very Short Stories)

In Arabic by the Iraqi poet: Yahya Assamawi

Translated by: Freeyad Ibrahim


(1)

Twenty years ago...my child screamed in surprise:

Baba...I see just one white hair in your blond beard

Twenty years later... she herself yelled astonished

O! My father...I see only a single blond hair in your white beard!

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(2)

When the long longing for the homeland burdened him

he mounted his own soul, and towards the border he fled.

Over the border dirt he spread his own shirt,

Beseaching the escapees to shake off over it

the dust clinging to their feet.

Backfired he came back without his shirt

for it had been made bandaging tapes

for the wounds of their feet

ulcerated

by the homeland barbed wires

When they penetrated

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(3)

A cloud wept, and the grass laughed, and the trees danced .

A pen cried.. so the paper laughed and the lines frisked.

The waterwheel screached... the creek laughed and the pigeons cooed

The men wept... and then the homeland went lost!

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(4)

When the king passed trough the crowd mounting his horse,

he became overwelmed with vainglory and pride while hearing

.. roaring of applause

He was quite unaware of the fact that the crowd was clapping just to show their awe and admiration for the horse's strength

how it could carry such a mountain of sins !


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(5)

She: what does love mean?

He: it means sacrifice, my sweetheart

She: and are you ready to sacrifice for my sake, my darling ?

He: yes, of course

She: if you are honest, then get me introduced to the owner of the bank who you work for.


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(6)

Solely- like a she-camel tamed and mild

He sat by the hems of the sea…

And like a tender mother combing the braids of her she- child,

Conducted the winds

Combing the sea water

parting it in waves shaped as braids

running as white butterflies each

fluttering, flickering

and stroking with their wings

the sandy beach

He waved his hand towards the distant horizon

A passerbye asked him

Do you wave to something you see but I can't ?

"Yes, I wave to a straying wave. "

He said with a pant.

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(7)

The secrete gendarme (police) broke into his house

in one midnight

His sister jumped into

the roof of the neighbours's house

like a wild doe,

with all her might.

For fear that they might weave

a hanging noose from her plait

lying for the neck of a gazelle in wait

And when his mother set his collection of poems on fire

and heaved a sigh, dour and dire,

with ire,

a white smoke, rose,

White like bukhuur, incense, at the prayer's alcove,

On that day he began to learn

That the verses written with homeland water

on the riverbank grass serving as paper,

turn ,

into

incense,

when

they

burn!

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FRYAD HUGO