Poetry on Optimism
- As expressed by Muhammad Mahdi Al-Jawahiri:
If a day is closed to you,
Hope for its opening,
Just as a flower withdraws,
After the joy has come.
It is revived by the gentle breeze
And the breaths of the morning.
A Poem of Hope by Mahmoud Darwish
There remains a bit of honey on your plates.
Keep the flies away from your food,
To preserve the honey!
There are still bunches of grapes in your vineyards.
Drive away the jackals,
Oh guardians of the vineyards,
Let the grapes ripen.
There is still a mat and a door in your homes.
Block the wind’s path from your little ones,
So the children can sleep.
The wind is chilling; close the doors.
There is still blood in your hearts,
Do not shed it, O fathers!
For within you, a fetus still lives…
There is still firewood on your hearth,
And coffee, accompanied by a bundle of flames…
Optimistic Verses by Ahmad Matar
A being knocked at my door, bearing the shackles of the oppressed, grim
With contagion in its mouth and a death notice in its hand,
Its eyes were a threat.
Its head was between its legs and its feet were soaked in blood,
Its arms were a festering wound.
It said: I bring you good news.
I asked: Good?!
It replied: Record this…
Your past sorrow will become simply a memory.
It will be replaced by intense oppression!
Should you have lived in suffering,
You shall pay no more rent.
They will provide you with a room with iron bars!
It is unbearable to see you killed treacherously.
It’s a certainty!
The strength of faith within you will increase.
You will escape from the fire,
For no martyr enters that fire!
Hymn of Joy by Ghada al-Samman
This morning, I shall wash my face many times.
I will smile with a bright smile,
Like the dawn in which I first knew you.
I will recite verses of optimism
And sing songs of joy,
Which I have preserved from you.
I will shed the blackness of days and the sadness of the past,
And dance to the melodies of your words,
Playing the strings of my heart.
Then I will sip my coffee,
Without adding more sugar,
For the sweetness of yesterday gives me utmost sweetness.
In the bustle of the road,
I will search for you in every face,
And whenever I miss you,
I will take your picture from the depths of my heart,
Gazing at it with great longing,
Then I will tuck it back between my ribs.
When I hear your voice calling me,
I will be fill with joy until I tremble,
Until the blood rushes in my veins.
Like every maiden, my shyness will prevent me from saying I love you,
Yet I resolve in my heart to express it,
Opening the door to that close meeting.
And in the evening when we are united by sunset,
In our mythical oasis,
I will run,
Across the hills and coral mountains.
I will untie my braids,
Letting them dance behind me, proclaiming madness.
And when exhaustion catches up with me, I will return to you,
Stretching out beside the spring,
On the shining grass,
Resting my head on your compassionate arms,
Like a small child who returns at the end of the day
To his mother’s embrace.
Listening to your tales of mint,
Of winter blazing in the stoves.
When slumber takes hold,
Forgive me, my love,
And please,
Do not forget to cover me with a warm kiss.
The Poem of the Coming Hope by Abdul Rahman Al-Ashmawi
How can you be absent while the light of your face shines,
The shadows of your love echo in my heart?
How can you disappear when you are the dawn in my eyes,
A shimmering light in my imagination?
How can you fade when you’re within my chest,
The sun in daylight and the full moon in darkness?
How can you be lost when you’re the shade,
When my thirst increases, I hasten toward you?
You have surrounded me in a semicircle of passion,
And I am content with the blessing of your captivity.
How can I escape when the enclosure surrounds me,
From every direction, and your command is decisive?
I say to the doe of poetry that I’ve nurtured,
The traveler is returning.
O doe of poetry, rest assured that I
Am still reviewing the books of longing.
There is something in my heart they call a yearning,
And I say it is an intense fire.
And in my eyes, a river diminishes its size,
If I say these are tears in my eyes.
And before the gates of emotions, there blooms a plant,
Its branch holds the fruit of affection.
O doe of poetry, igniting my blood,
Wander, for your essence in my heart is renowned.
You punished me for my complaints, yet,
I complain because the truth within us is lost.
Because the walls of dignity have crumbled
In my nation and humiliation is widespread.
And because I saw the serpent of love,
In its accursed fang, a deadly poison.
And because I witnessed what you did not,
For there is a wolf crouching at your door.
I say to those who blame me: awaken!
For I wield the sword of poetry to contest you.
Look to the color and taste of peace,
Its essence is pronounced and its hue is vivid.
They said peace has come, so we followed what
They described, but the deceiving words became apparent.
We asked them, where is peace? For we see
Only the hands of the deceived bidding farewell.
There is a significant difference between a peaceful person and a trader;
The trader sells dignity.
In the hand of the advocate of peace lie flowers,
And in the hands of the traders of peace are weapons.
Do you see any just peace in this world,
Called for by bombs and cannons?
I am ashamed when I laugh carelessly,
While a hungry child lies on the ground.
I am ashamed when I occupy myself with love,
And with the chastity of Leila, the Banshewia weeping.
I am ashamed when I see my nation,
Yearning for its enemies and bidding farewell.
I continue to call for it, and a lover’s voice freezes in my mouth,
And does not answer the subservient.
I keep calling it, with a thousand tales
About the family who have parted ways.
About brothers who rode conflict as a steed,
And raced into the dungeons of discord.
O nation with a history that elevates it,
And leads it towards the inevitable loss!
O nation that listens to its whims,
And covers its ears when a revealer speaks.
O nation, I keep asking about your situation,
And it speaks with disastrous answers.
Why do I see you opening the doors of desire
And accepting what the greedy calls for?
You turned West while all truths are east,
And in your hand, the healing remedy!
Why do I see you extending for usury,
A bridge, while the Quran has prohibitions?
Have you forgotten the wrath of God that is dire?
Or is there no deterrent in your belief?
Or is your goal in Islam to see
For yourself in existence factories and industries ?
Have you forgotten that people in you are minerals,
Have you forgotten that the earth in you has locations?
Don’t be deceived by some ugly faces,
And beautify them for the onlookers with veils.
And if God wishes to take authority,
Blind is the seer and deaf the hearer.
O my nation, rebuked for my love for you, yet,
He feared that the rebuker would see a bad outcome.
They said: defend with poems; I said,
No, but with the certainty of my heart, I defend your protection.
The letters have matured, so there is no
Word that falsifies my vision or deceives.
I have surrendered to the Merciful, my will, so that
The poems do not play or lose their moral compass.
I long for the triumph of a belief,
Where the rivers of salvation have their sources.
They said: are you aiming for the impossible? I said,
But it is a promise from the Merciful, a true reality.
By God, even if the enemy uproots our homes,
And cast us into the whirling waters behind the ocean,
I will continue to believe that our nation will have
A day of glory, pure and shining.
These are our truths and not a false image,
Where minds struggle.
I will not tire from calling, perhaps,
The call of two hearts will make a difference.