بنى آدم اعضای یک پیکرند
که در آفرینش ز یک گوهرند
چو عضوى به درد آورد روزگار
دگر عضوها را نماند قرار
تو کز محنت دیگران بی غمی
نشاید که نامت نهند آدمی
Saadi - 'Bani Adam'
Translated by M. Aryanpoor as:
Human beings are members of a whole,
In creation of one essence and soul.
If one member is afflicted with pain,
Other members uneasy will remain.
If you've no sympathy for human pain,
The name of human you cannot retain!
Or by H. Vahid Dastjerdi as:
Adam's sons are body limbs, to say;
For they're created of the same clay.
Should one organ be troubled by pain,
Others would suffer severe strain.
Thou, careless of people's suffering,
Deserve not the name, "human being".
To show a diffAt the moment I'd say you were or your parents were from that region and you don't like being stereotyped?rent side of the middle east that what usually hits the new... Didn't work very well I must say.
Ok. Why did you want to do that?
What did you attempt to show via your opening two posts? Presumably that poets from that region can be anti-religious. Does that describe you? Are you a poet who originally came from that region and who is against religion?
by Salah Stétié
to Mahmoud Darwish
English translation: O5
It's raining rain on Palestine
Rain without rain, rain of fire
For Marie the Virgin there were seven swords
But there are more in the hearts of those
Who don’t sleep in their frail houses no more
Who have only the street of the terrible poor
To twist their arm for their lost son
It's raining rain, raining night
In the plain sunlight of the day lost
Where life begets no more the beautiful name of life
The heart can’t do it anymore the heart can’t do it no more
To see the children cry of distress
The snotty boy the girl with the braided hair
This country of olives is of Christ
The Palm here is his long lost sign
We sang his clear birth
His fragility of convicted child
By the awful Caesar by the awful Herod
Whose hands never would be bleached
If all the Jordan came to wash them
This child of yesterday is today reborn
In the black fold of Palestinian women
Husbands are dead the sons are lost
Sheet metal and bare concrete houses
Have fallen like at Guernica pipes cry out
Facing the tanks and helmeted soldiers
Dumb from the silence of those who kill
Moses, O Moses
Did not want that
It is our planet, earthly and so blue
That was made of air and water so that they live
Together: that harnessed of leather
And the teenager left to cook
In the fire created where the cylinder
gas exploded under accurate fire
Moses, O Moses
Did not want that
Precise shrapnel aimed to the heart
Of the stillborn child in the white church
All are asleep and not just the guards
But the white man of Rome too, so old,
Democracies and their seedy leaders
That one whose forehead is so narrow
Over narrow eyes he confirms Darwin
Poor Palestine of the poor, why
Oh why would you want them to wake up?
In Jerusalem reigns Ubu - Roi
Sabra and Shatila in his pocket, and the other
The Nobel Peace Prize, the fake nose
Yes, why would you want us to wake up?
If they want double portion, why not?
Our princes are fast asleep in barrels/day
The Pen in France comes in with his glass eye
And the House of glass, New York
Is once again this "machin" we know
Why would you move at all, poor Palestine
When they at long last propose to finish you off?
Country of Christ you remember Christ?
Country of Islam why do you want to live?
There are for you the starry tanks of Sharon
As Putin is for Chechnya
And Bush is there to direct the music...
Country of Christ why do you want to live?
Easter is spent and it's the "spring epidemic"
It rains it rains it rains on you, my Palestine,
Country without rain country with rain of fire
And for Mary, "the un-touched by any man",
Always, in the heart of her heart, the thorns
Original poem:
Pluie sur la Palestine
à Mahmoud Darwich
Il pleut de la pluie sur la Palestine
De la pluie sans pluie de la pluie de feu
Pour Marie la Vierge il y eut sept épées
Il y en a bien plus dans le coeur de celles
Qui ne dorment plus dans leurs maisons frêles
Et qui ont la rue des pauvres terribles
Pour tordre leurs bras sur le fils perdu
Il pleut de la pluie il pleut de la nuit
Dans le plein soleil de ce jour perdu
Où la vie n’a plus son beau nom de vie
Le coeur n’en peut plus le coeur n’en peut plus
De voir les enfants pleurer de détresse
Le garçon morveux la fille en ses tresses
Ce pays d’olive est pays du Christ
La palme est ici son signe perdu
Nous avons chanté sa naissance claire
Sa fragilité d’enfant condamné
Par l’affreux César par l’affreux Hérode
Dont les mains jamais ne seraient blanchies
Si tous les Jourdain venaient les laver
Cet enfant d’hier renaît aujourd’hui
Dans le giron noir des Palestiniennes
Les maris sont morts les fils sont perdus
Les maisons de tôle et de béton nu
Sont tombés comme à Guernica les tuyaux crient
Face aux tanks et face aux soldats casqués
Muets du silence de ceux-là qui tuent
Moïse, Moïse
N’a pas voulu ça
C’est notre planète, terrestre et si bleue
Celle qu’on fit d’air et d’eau pour qu’ils vivent
Ensemble : celui harnaché de cuir
Et l’adolescent qu’on a laissé cuire
Dans l’incendie créé où la bonbonne
De gaz explosa sous le tir précis
Moïse, Moïse
N’a pas voulu ça
Précise mitraille ajustée au coeur
De l’enfant mort-né dans l’église blanche
Tous dorment et pas seulement les gardes
Mais l’Homme blanc de Rome aussi, si vieux,
Les Démocraties et leur Chef miteux
Celui-là de qui le front si étroit
Sur des yeux étroits confirme Darwin
Pauvre Palestine des pauvres, pourquoi
Oui pourquoi veux-tu que ça les réveille ?
A Jérusalem règne l’Ubu-Roi,
Sabra et Chatila en poche, et l’autre
Le Prix Nobel de la Paix, le faux-nez
Oui, pourquoi veux-tu que ça nous réveille ?
S’ils veulent double portion, pourquoi pas ?
Nos princes se sont assoupis en barils/jour
Le Pen en France arrive avec son oeil de verre
Et la Maison de Verre aussi, à New York
Est redevenue le " machin " qu’on sait
A quoi bon bouger, pauvre Palestine
Puisqu’on te propose enfin d’en finir ?
Pays du Christ te souvient-il du Christ ?
Pays d’Islam pourquoi veux-tu revivre ?
Il y a pour toi les chars étoilés de Sharon
Comme il y a pour la Tchétchénie Poutine
Et Bush est là pour régler la musique …
Pays du Christ pourquoi veux-tu vivre ?
Pâques est passé et c’est "printemps d’épidémie"
Il pleut il pleut il pleut sur toi, ma Palestine,
Pays sans pluie pays à pluie de feu
Et pour Marie, "la non-touchée d’un homme",
Il y a toujours, au cœur du cœur, les épines
Thanks Beth. ME art is on the rise, even on the art market. Their artists have a lot to offer. They can pack a huge punch. They have lot too lose too, because they routinely end up in jail or receive threats. E.g. Souad Massi now lives in Paris and rarely sings in her native Algeria anymore because of personal threats to her safety from Islamists.
0 Replies
Olivier5
2
Reply
Thu 3 Apr, 2014 01:50 pm
Another one that could work for belly dancing - although there's a very jazzy bridge. In any case, it's pretty good musac.
This is part of an andalusi nubah, a norther-african judeo-arabic music form inherited from Al-Andaluz, played by Enrico Macias. Yes, him but older. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TpLoTLxfNOk
Warning: The piece starts with a 2:20 mn guitar solo + monologue by Macias but the other guys do chip in eventually. Total mayhmen only happens at mid point of the vid.
)
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