Poetry
Poetry is defined as a composition of harmonious lines, commonly known as a poetic verse. Each verse is formed from two main parts: the ‘sadr’ (the first hemistich) and the ‘ajz’ (the second hemistich), which together create a coherent structure. The essence of a poem arises from the emotions and thoughts that traverse the mind of the poet, leading to the creation of a harmonious piece. There are several types of poetry, including free verse, modern poetry, and traditional verse.
In the Embrace of Hussein
Farouk Goweda is an esteemed Egyptian poet born in Kafr El-Sheikh in 1946. He graduated from the Faculty of Arts and Journalism in 1968. Goweda began his career as an economic editor at “Al-Ahram” newspaper, eventually ascending to the role of head of the cultural section at the newspaper, now at the age of 74.
In the horizon, two tears yearn,
And the heart beats among my fragments, echoing a sigh,
And my beloved among the chaos, a defeated dove,
A branch dropped by the winds from time’s embrace.
The ground has tightened around us;
No place remains in this world for lovers.
The heart cradles among my remnants traces of hope,
And I whispered in sorrow: You still embrace hope.
A lost dream lost in the autumn,
Despair casting it onto the frightening path.
And my beloved, a sad light behind the bars of shadows,
Her defeated spring, languid, breathless in the night of deception.
Life swayed along the path of sorrow,
A dream retreats behind impossibility.
And I carried my heart within silence,
And tears burned in my eyelids.
The dream is handless,
And I conceal the two tears.
The eyes of my beloved whispered:
Come, let us lament to Hussein.
In your embrace, whenever time tightens,
Or patience falters, or security is lost,
Do you see my beloved?!
We came to you to complain about sorrows in a time of humiliation.
All we wish for is a home to gather the fragments from this path,
Along every road where dreams are stolen, brilliance commits suicide,
And life slips away from us in the alleys.
We ask, O time of disbelief and deep ignorance,
By God’s grace tell us, when will a day dawn?
We came to you to complain.
Along the road, lovers of the city slumber,
Children spring forth like weeds from the wells of years.
Along the road, we sleep with longing and a sorrowful lifetime,
And on the tears of the path, we spread our grief.
How long the sorrows linger in the lives of the lost wanderers.
Our destinies brought us here;
We have no power to change our fates.
We live, we love, we plant dreams in the land of aspirations.
We forget and abandon while longings play among our blood.
We encounter strange joys on the thresholds of our home,
And with the smile of the most beautiful days, our dream collapses.
And if one day you ask the people about the tale of our lives,
They would say, while whispers of fear roar fiercely:
Our destinies brought us here.
Our destinies brought us here.
We came to ask our Lord,
Why did You inscribe love, O Lord,
If parting always screams between us?
No place remains in this world to gather the fragments,
To grant us security or aspirations.
We came to you to complain,
Shall we complain about our fates,
Or our homelands,
Or our dreams,
Or our days,
Or shall we lament… lament… lament?
A voice calls from afar,
And my beloved, like a light, asks, do you see any happy news?
Can we gather the fragments and the lost love again?
I still dream, despite the long despair, of a new home.
The voice rises in the shrine,
An elder shouts,
It’s time to end the visit.
The voice rises in the shrine,
It’s time to leave the shrine.
The dream lies in the hands of the slaughtered.
The dream lies in the hands of the slaughtered.
Meeting Strangers
Farouk Goweda is a prominent voice in the movement of Arabic poetry, beginning with traditional verse and later transitioning to theater. He has published 20 books, including 13 volumes of poetry, and has penned three successful plays: “The Loving Minister,” “Blood on the Kaaba’s Curtain,” and “Al-Khedive.”
Longing taught me since our meeting,
For I saw in your eyes the dreams of a lifetime,
And I sang a melody of loyalty, hoping it
Still comforts me through sleepless days.
I planted your love in my heart, and every time
Years have passed, I see it blossoming.
Before your house, I placed my luggage,
One day I bid the troubles and travels farewell.
I forgave the days for every sin,
And I forgave the world and its people.
Longing taught me how to experience it,
And I learned how my longings can sway me,
How my eyes danced with visions of age,
Happy images of radiance.
How my yearning for you still kindles,
Burning deep within me with sorrow.
Or shall we meet again after loyalty as if we
Are strangers who haven’t kept promises?
O you to whom I have given everything, I
Still uphold the sacred promise.
So if our days end, remember that
I am the one who loves you in this life.
Your Eyes Are a Faithful Land
Farouk Goweda is one of the acclaimed Egyptian poets who graduated from the Faculty of Arts but began his career in journalism. He has since authored numerous works that have been translated into several languages. Notable among his publications are “My Heart Conceded to Forgetting” (1986) and “I Will Not Sell My Lifetime” (1989). The Sudanese band “Aqdat Al-Jalad” even performed the song “Forgive Me, My Beloved.”
I walked, searching for your eyes
Behind the bars of life,
While the sorrows riot in my chest,
Loss that I do not know the end of.
And my heart melts at the storms of night,
And all I possess remains captive on my lips.
The earth chokes the sounds of my steps,
As her wound cries under the sands.
Locks of dreams crawl behind the tide of night
Battling against the mountains.
And yearning is a pearl caressing the silence of my days,
Her light falls behind shadows.
Your eyes are a sea of light, carrying me to
An age of pure hearts, a mad imagination.
Your eyes are a voyage and the return of the absent,
Your eyes are the repentance of a devoted.
You stood, fighting alone against the specter of shadows.
In my heart, a question still lingers:
How did our dreams come to an end?
I still search for your eyes,
Hoping to find the answer there.
Despite despair, I still know them, and they know me,
Holding in our depths a reproach.
If the world betrays and men betray,
And friends drift away,
Your eyes are a land that never betrays.
Your eyes are faith and a restless doubt,
Your eyes are a river of madness,
Your eyes are eternal eras and lifetimes,
Unlike anything the world offers, a mere mirage.
Your eyes are gods and lovers, patience and exile.
Your eyes are my home,
When life closes me in and agony surrounds.
I still seek your eyes between us, a newborn hope;
I am a shore upon which it cast its wounds.
I am the distant dream’s boat,
I am the night enchanted by its magic;
The essence of life measures time by happy moments.
And let your eyes inquire, where is its sparkle?
They will respond with pain, revealing it has turned into ice.
And I continue to search for your eyes behind the bars of life,
The question lingers in my heart, restless;
If stirred in anger, it is stifled by my lips.
How did our dreams end?
Fate may suffocate our love one day,
And time may bitterly separate us.
Or sorrow may play a tune,
From the remnants of our wound.
And a year may pass, perhaps two,
Time will block our ways.
But in your eyes, our ancient homeland remains,
Where we throw the burdens of travel in a barren time.
Your eyes are our ancient homeland, even if our days
Adopt darkness chasing radiance.
There will be something in your eyes, a glimmer of hope,
That humanity will return to its essence,
Covering the nakedness, cleansing itself and returning to purity.
Your eyes are our ancient homeland,
Even if we become like lost souls with no country.
In them, I experienced the joys and sorrows of life,
Lost or a refuge.
Your eyes in my poetry are eternity,
Crossing frontiers, storming through time.
Your eyes within me, amidst time,
And I have become timeless.
In Your Eyes, I Find My Identity
Farouk Goweda’s creative works have been the subject of various academic theses in universities across Egypt and the Arab world. He served on the presidential team but resigned in protest against the supplementary constitutional declaration (November 2012). His early works were characterized by love poetry, marking the first phase of his life, while his political poetry represents the subsequent phase, addressing the myriad issues that concern the Arab individual.
She said you will forget me,
And forget that once,
I gifted you the pulse of my heart,
And you will fall for another wave,
And forsake the warmth of my shores.
And you will sit as we used to,
To listen to some of my melodies,
While my sorrows mean nothing to you.
And like a wish, my name will fall,
And my identity will be lost.
Will you say, my life,
That you once loved me?
I replied: Your love is my faith
And my forgiveness… and my defiance.
I came to you with hope in my hands,
Remnants cradled between my arms.
A spring died, its bird
Among the ruins of a garden.
Winds of sorrow squeeze me,
Mocking my emotions.
I love you, a serene oasis,
Where all my sorrows rest.
I love you, a breeze that soothes
My melodies amidst silence.
I love you, a rapture that flows,
Igniting the fire of my volcanic heart.
I love you, O hope,
Like the morning light meeting me.
Love has slain the lovers,
But your love has allowed me to live.
If I were offered a homeland,
I would say your love is my land.
If I forget you, my life,
My heart’s innermost chasms will forget me.
If I lose my way,
In your eyes…