Fear
by Yemeni poet, Abdullah Al-Baradouni
translated by Hatem Al-Shamea
These new lies
A death with countless hands,
Spreading nests and queues,
Tall buildings that expand…
Falling… and swiftly,
They don the face of a martyr,
Or the youth of a martyred maiden,
Borrowing the lament,
And donning the flesh of the poem.
They pour forth with certain danger,
Yet seem uncertain in their claim,
Showing one thing, but intending another,
Invisible, like the devout.
They call it aid, assistance,
An initiative, noble and pure,
But it’s a wanderer’s bag
Between the sly and the shrewd.
Promises, approvals,
Maneuvers, beneficial visits,
A gift without return, loans
With distant due dates.
But why do they lavish such gifts?
I smell the scent of deceit,
And see a conspiracy,
Disguised as brotherhood and faith.
It approaches, like one who pities,
Like a lover, or a relentless killer.
What should I name it?
Its names are dull and numbing.
It deepens my ignorance—
This radio, this newspaper,
These dramas whose
Heroes seem so grand.
Should I fear the generosity of aid?
Or should I fear “The Happy One”?
I Named Her, Fatima – a novel written by Mayasa Al-Nakhlani – trans. Hatem Al-Shamea
