Here I Am
They see me with a smiling face, and pleasant,
They see my words bleeding, in pain they suffer.
The ignorant ones say, “He vacillates,”
The lovers say, “He is infatuated.”
Some say, “He is arrogant,”
While others say, “He is enigmatic, unfathomable.”
Yet, none of them know
That within me resides a heart, scattered and mended.
And they should know that my state is their state,
I have not forgotten that they are me, and I am them.
* * *
I am a dwelling for sorrow, a refuge for grief,
My civilization lies in ruins, my history written in blood.
I am the keeper of tears, their script and language,
I am their dictionary, and the lexicon.
When the bread is mentioned on this land,
The hungry pray and send their blessings.
My ink is the lament of the destitute, my words
Are their sighs, and poetry is their divine inspiration.
In my cheeks, the gardens of paradise blossom,
And in my veins, hellfire finds solace.
* * *
Oh brothers in hunger, I understand like you do,
That speaking of food is forbidden.
And that the cries of the hungry are a great sin,
Condemned by the gluttonous oppressor.
Not everyone who holds back tears is blessed,
Nor is everyone who utters the testimony a true believer.
Not everyone with a voice has a speaking tongue,
Nor is everyone with silence deaf and dumb.
So when I am silent, do not say I am mute,
Who said silence cannot speak?
And when my words speak of me, know
That they draw from the depths of my heart.
And know that the truth lies not in what is said,
But in the fingers that reveal what the mouth conceals.
These are my wounds, stitched with verses,
Reflect upon them, and peace be upon you.
An Evening of Bliss – Entesar Hasan – trans. Hatem Al-Shamea
