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  • Welcome to ALT Magazine & Press: Hazawi Prize Announces 2023 Shortlist: (Sana'a, Yemen) - The shortlist for the 2023 Hazawi Prize for Yemeni Literature has been revealed, announcing the ten writers who have been selected as finalists for this prestigious award.
  • Now in its second yearly round, the Hazawi Prize recognizes exceptional contributions to fiction in Yemeni literature. Organized by the Hazawi Cultural Foundation, this annual prize aims to promote Yemeni literature and support creative writers.
  • This year's shortlist features both emerging and renowned Yemeni authors. The ten works advancing to the final round of judging are:
  • - Abdullah Faisal shortlisted for his novel, Spirits and Secrets.
  • - Aisha Saleh shortlisted for her novel, Under the Ashes
  • - Farouk Merish shortlisted for his novel, A Dignified Stranger
  • - Ahmed Ashraf shortlisted for his novel, A Painful Belt
  • - Ghassan Khalid shortlisted for his novel, A Sky that Rains Fear
  • - Hosam Adel shortlisted for his novel, The Lord of the Black Dog
  • - Asmaa Abdulrazak shortlisted for her novel, Shrapnels
  • - Abdullah Abdu Muhammad shortlisted for his novel, The Road to Sana'a
  • - Najah Bahkeim shortlisted for her novel, The Final Decision
  • - Samir AbdulFattah shortlisted for her novel, What We Cannot See
  • The winner will be revealed at an award ceremony in Sana'a later where they will receive $1,500 USD. Second and third prizes of $1,000 USD each will also be awarded. All shortlisted works are celebrated for chronicling Yemen's rich culture and wartime experiences. This prestigious prize continues highlighting the nation's thriving literary community.

Gone, What’s Gone – Fatima Al-Ashabi. Trans: Hatem Al-Shamea

Gone, what’s gone

And the sidewalk persists
To the depths of my heart, bleeding flows
I try to remember something of life
Something about love on a summer starry night
Did I have a homeland and a beloved?
Why am I above this sidewalk?
I waited and exaggerated in waiting
My expectations were surpassed
I closed my eyes
The train passed by
And amidst the noise, I clung to brokenness
Was waiting inevitable?
Where is my face?
The road is blood
And the scent of the earth is my sorrow
Not a single blade of grass sprouted
Nor a single rose
Nor a star in nights of weeping

… …

Gone, what’s gone
And the sidewalk persists
Scattering me moment by moment
And blowing me away behind every explosion
Thick smoke
And a terrifying silence
The road is blood
This is not me
This is not my blood
This is not my mouth
My face has been lost
Who can uncover the mystery
And grant me a chance to rise
And who will open a refuge for me
In a place that’s clean
Other than this sidewalk

… …

Gone, what’s gone
What was lost from me is futile
No longer in the realm of loss
So what reckoning
And what contempt
Upon oneself from waiting for loss
And there is nothing but mirage
And nothing
But the dust worn by the hungry
To whom shall I extend my arm?
Where, O Lord?
While I am above the sidewalk
Fragments of a land
And the remnants of a dying people
How can I extend my arm?
And my face has been lost
Who said that I will recognize my face?
And who said that I have an arm
When what’s lost is lost
Nothing remains but my destiny
Embracing the fragments
And weeping over what’s left of our loss
Let my wound grow
Let my sorrow grow
Let my despair grow

Over a homeland that once had two paradises
And ended up as a terrifying barrenness
It sharpens water
And eats from under the shoes of time
Resembling wishes
So, hunger,
Take my homeland
And give me the strength for my daily sustenance
I’ve grown weary of loitering on sidewalks
I’ve grown weary of postponed loaves in the archives
Wolves and children
Dogs and workers
Madmen, yet great poets
Barefoot and naked
Extending their hands to sorrows
And picking up curses
From the flesh-eaters
And Cain kills Abel
Every day

… …

O homeland, they killed your sun
And threw it away without any consideration
To a pit that has no sense of resolution
For we are the victims of the mighty, the mighty
We support them as they snatch away life repeatedly
And acknowledge the killing of the innocent
O homeland, there is no wall for the honorable
To you, Shame,
And extinction.

The Studio – Nabilah Al-Sheikh – trans. Hatem Al-Shamea

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