06-December-2024

Selected Poem: A Summer’s Dream

Selected Poem: A Summer’s Dream

 

KHARTOUM (Sudanow) - Mustafa Sanad (1939-2009) is one of the great Sudanese poets. His poems as a whole are characterized by an undeniable powerful effect and poetic cohesion. His poetic images are vivid, his lan­guage is rich with ritual usage. His following poem was translated from Arabic by al-Sir Khidir:

I.

O summer,

This night, the door of paradise

Is a river of glass, a sea of dust, a door of mirage?

O summer,

This night, the door of paradise is open

For the forgotten dead,

The poets and the authors

II.

I melt at the first door, drank

The nectar of wine-the wine of wandering,

Forgot the path of revelation,

Crossed the seas of ecstasy and amusement.

III.

My soothsayer of the district… O soothsayer,

In the street,

A sheikh united the bond of chastity,

Passing the fire, hands on hips,

A girl with moustache,

A breast flew from a boy’s chest

And you say-missing the true lightening

Of emotion and inspiration

I behold a roaring mirage, a river of glass

A sea of dust

A night opening the depths of elusive sun

Bridges of midgets

Leaping over an ancient era,

Chewing the threads of silence

And licking tears of surprise and deceit.

I behold mirrors of ice crowning the summer’s face…

O lair,

O soothsayer of the intoxicated ones,

You spoke hastily, without pain

Forgetting the meeting of paradise and poets-

Today’s lesson is in noise

IV.

A vision…the flying blaze of summer in drawings

A vision… the gluttony of a hungry night for stars…

A night like a dark tress

The night wonderful door to paradise

V.

Don’t cry. Poet is the cogs of serum, pills tar, oil a factory and machinery,15

Sweat, people’s foreheads, crowds in the streets,

The residue of clamour and voices

VI.

I am reconciled with time

And have measured the face of people,

Staring at the pupils of eyes, walking paths crossing roads,

And exploring the remotest alleys

I read, yet inspired nothing but pity

VII.

Don’t cry… poetry is a fairy’s fan,

Like the swimming kin of warmth, the sound of turning heels

Don’t cry… poetry is blue flames in halls,

Eyes of straying promise;

A sea of pleasure and rain drops.

The girl undressed in the silent rain,

Cristal filters through a night doll,

The girl’s body turns before their eyes

Between the courtyard and the brothel.

The girl, the cup, the tenth door hunger of eyes, of eons.

O summer, this night your face is turned towards the epileptic and the rapid,

A fountain diamonds, a sea of names.

You who first called out,

The corpses of the dead martyrs were struck down.

VIII.

O summer of harm, weaver of weaver

And sea of green foam

O window!

I feel you in my heart, in its beat yet unseen.

O lightening quiver, this hour, in the night;

We would drive you

Across the pure river,

Inscribing your face with names…

O summer…

This night, the glory of paradise is bestowed

Upon the forgotten dead, and the author, and the poets

 

Source: Al-Sir Khidir's book (Modern Sudanese Poetry: Anthology and Appraisal).

 

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