Poems by the poet
What is pulling me to poetry more and more as the Syrian trsgedy continues to spiral towards the ultimate, is that poetry invents it own language and speaks with a logic that defies logic in its attempt to confront pain with vision and reality with insight, thus shifting reality to a plane of existence where healing is possible and where the future creates its own imperatives and likelihoods.
When the world falls apart
The Poet
When the world falls apart
When beauty is undone
When love dies
When all feelings are extinguished
When the planet collapses upon itself
When time is shattered and is lost
When fear is upon me
And my soul fragments
When history is expired
And the private and the public are dissolved,
The poet stands atop the ruins of the world
And plucks his kithara
Then he sings
Then he chants
The song of life.
The poet and Ruins of the world
الشاعر
عندما ينهار العالم
عندما يداس البهاء
عندما يموت الحب
عندما يسحق الوجدان
عندما تقف الدنيا هالعة فوق ركامها
عندما ينكسر الزمان ويضيع
عندما ياخذني الروع
وتتفتت روحي
عندما يفنى التاريخ العام والخاص
يركع الشاعر فوق الاطلال
ويشد اوتار قيثارته
ثم يغني ودموعه تضمخ الارض
ثم يغني
ثم ينشد
ثم ينشد انشودة الحياة
The poet and the owls
The poet stood and sang to the stars:
“It all started with poetry
And it shall end with poetry
As befits a poet.”
The poet sang and sang
The poet sang to the sea
And to the owls that
Stood in the pines gazing
Gazing with jewelled eyes.
“I did it, the poet cried. I did it
I returned to Syria the wanderer
For I am love the magician
I move my wand of talismans
And the one that was lost is found
The one with the gift of words is saved.
Then the poet bent his head sorrowfully
And walked into the lonely night,
Lonely are those who love
Lonely are those who carry
The wand that conjures life
For those who are laden with gifts
Are destined to be rent
From heart to soul.
Mankind cannot bear too much reality.
©Alisar Iram
The Rose and the Nightingale
The Rose and the Nightingale
Ring… Ring… Ring
The bells do Toll
Ding…ding…ding
But the missing beat is the one
Ringing in my heart.
My heart has become
Not a continent,*
Not the pasture of gazelles,**
No, not a temple or a mosque or a cathedral**
For it has become a galaxy,
A universe
Where love treads and threads,
Dyeing the stars with the splendour
Of the red rose.
Must the nightingale die
So that the rose might
Shine in the night of the universe ?
Ring…ring..ring
With the plaintive beat of the Sufi ney,
Yet the beat that is missing is ringing in my heart
Where the nightingale is singing its farewell.
This pain is but the thorns and briars of roses
And I was wounded but by a rose,
Says the nightingale singing clearer and gentler,
This pain is but for the rose.
This pain is but of the rose
The wild the beautiful red star,
Whispers the nightingale as it presses its soft breast
Closer and closer to the crimson glory of the rose.
I have stretched my soul across the universe
And plucked then plucked again,
Chants the nightingale while its melody rises to revolve
Round the whirling stars.
As the bell dies down,
As its song rings its final notes,
As the bells stop tolling
And the missed beat in my heart also stops stops,
The nightingale becomes the rose
Soul of its soul.
How would you know in the magnificent glow of red,
Which is the nightingale and which is the rose
Which is the wound and which is the rising sun?
Alisar Iram
* Reference to Jhne Donne. See below
** Referenced to Ibn Arabi. See below
The rose is a sacred symbol found throughout the mystical writings and poetry of many religions. There are many Sufi references to the rose, as symbolizing the Divine beloved, to whom the earthy lover might become a conduit, channeling divine love. The sacred and the profane, the heavenly and the earthly become indistinguishable. Ibn Arabi, the Sufi mystics and some great Persian poets used the image profusely in their poetry.
As for representing the human soul by a bird, it is found in myth and mystical literature all over the world. The old Arabians thought of the soul as an owl or a bird leaving the body from the head as death occurred. The image of the bird, as a metaphor for the soul yearning for the beloved, was repeatedly used in Arab and Islamic mysticism and poetry and in Persian literature. The nightingale, because of its haunting melodies, became the lover who is in love with the rose, the Divine. As poetry is always very complex and multi-layered, the image gains in profundity and meaning according to the poet‘s vision.
My two direct sources of inspiration in this poem are two great mystics of Islam and Christianity, the great Arab Medieval poet and mystic, Ibn Arabi ( 1156- 1240), and the great English Metaphysical poet, John Donne (1572-1631).
My heart has now become recipient to all images
As it has turned into the grazing fields where gazelles play,
And into the monasteries where the monks pray, …
For I have embraced the creed of love, wherever it fares;
Love is my religion and love is my faith. (Ibn Arabi)
The tolling of the bell in the poem is the bell tolling in Donne’s poem:
No man is an island,
Entire of itself.
Each is a piece of the continent,
A part of the main…
Each man’s death diminishes me,
For I am involved in mankind
Therefore, send not to know
For whom the bell tolls,
It tolls for thee. (John Donne)
©Alisar Iram
البلبل والوردة The Nightingale and the Rose
ايها الناقوس
رِنَ… رنَ… رنَ
رنّم… رنّم… رنّم
الا ان الرنة الضائعة هي الرنة
.التي تقرع في قلبي
*لقد صار قلبي، لا، ليس قارة
*وليس مرعى لغزلان
وليس بيتا لاوثان
أوكعبة طائف
فلقد صار مجرّة
وصار هذا الكون الذي
يسري فيه الحب وينسج
صابغا النجوم
ببهاء الورة الحمراء.
هل يجب ان يموت البلبل الغريد
لكي تتالق الوردة في ظلام الكون؟
رنَ… رنَ… رنَ
شَجِناً
بصوت الناي الصوفي،
الا ان الرنة الضائعة هي الرنة
التي تقرع في قلبي
حيث يرتل البلبل
.نشيد الوداع
فما هذا الالم
الا شوك الورد
وطعنة الورد
،وانا لم يدمني الا الورد،
يهتف البلبل صادحا
بعذوبة اعمق
.و صفاء ارق
،هذا الالم هو من اجل الوردة ومن الوردة
النجمة البرية الجميلة
يهمس البلبل معانقا
وصدره يلثم الشوك
.اذ يغمره بهاء الالق القرمزي
لقد فرشت روحي على عتبات الكون
وشددت الاوتار ثم عزفت وعزفت،
ينشد البلبل
واغنبته تحلق وترتفع
.لتطوف حول النجوم الطائفة
وإذ يتلاشى رنين الاجراس
،ويشدوالبلبل لحنه الاخير
واذ يتوقف قرع النواقيس
واد تتوقف الرنة الضائعة في قلبي
وتتوقف
يغيب البلبل في الوردة
ويصبح روحا من روحها
كيف نعرف في بهاء النور
وتدفق الارجوان
من هي الوردة ومن هو البلبل؟
كيف نميز بين الجرح النازف
وبين قرص الشمس المندلع؟
اليسار ارم©
* John Donne ـ الاشارة الى الشاعر الانكليزي
* الاشارة الى ابن عربي في ديوان الاشواق
-
They have already loved
Posted on January 7, 2014by alisariram
The poem below, above my poem, is a translation (my own) of the verses that appear in my work of art . They are by the great Arab philosopher and theologian, Mawlana Ibn Arabi, 1156- 1240.
My heart has now become recipient to all images
As it has turned into the grazing fields where gazelles play,
And into the monasteries where the monks pray ,…
For I have embraced the creed of love, wherever it fares;
Love is my religion and love is my faith.
I stood at the seashore and told the sea to love
Because my heart was brimming with love
And the sea loved
I rose among the stars and begged the stars to love
Because my heart was brimming with love
And the stars loved
I walked among the poets and philosophers and summoned them to love
Because my heart was brimming with love
And the poets and philosophers loved.
I stepped among the heroes of old and asked them to love
Because my heart was brimming with love
And the heroes of old loved
I walked among the dead and dying and whispered to them to love
Because my heart was brimming with love
But found out that they have already loved
That their hearts were brimming with love.
©Alisar Itam
alisariram 