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Final Wishes of a Poet

Final Wishes of a Poet 
Arabic poem By: Rukn-al-Din Yunus
Translated into English By: 
Inaam Al-Hashimi (Gold_N_Silk)
========================
(Part 1 of 3)

Lend me a handful of earth
So that I may make you a statue 
You have not seen the like before
In your dreams.
Lend me a breath of spring
I’ll paint you cities, seashores 
And passionate rendezvous.
Lend me some of your crazy letters 
And I will dispatch couriers
To deliver them to gardens
And send elegantly dressed devotees
With a touch of sadness 
To receive them from the gardens
And read them to the river.
Lend me some of the words
Escaping from under your hat, 
Which has no resemblance to Pablo Neruda’s,
To write you an epic 
Spelled out by tyrants
Every night 
To cry their own fates in the morning.
Lend me an evening you could spare
To romp through virtual streets 
Named after living poets 
From different generations
Wherein a river of music goes over the heads of passersby
Drowning all in ageless glamour. 
Lend me the rest of the golden letters
In your pocket
To disperse them over the outskirts of my words
And the lanterns of my dreams
To light up what’s left of the opaque sentences 
In the imagination of the painter
And the wisdom of the poet 
Who is crazed about the clay
On the banks of the Hilla River.



(Part 2 of 3)
--------------

I'll die tonight...
O my dear wife!
I’ve never liked farewell ceremonies
In my life
So let things be normal and quiet.
Forgive me! I will not kiss you tonight
Just lie down beside me on the bed
For now.
Don’t tell the boys about my no-return journey 
Don’t let the girls cry with you
Especially the married one
And the little one
The middle one as well.
Let everything be as ordained for me
By those I don’t know
All I know for sure
I will die tonight.
How? ..... I do not know!
How? ..... I do not know!
At what time? …. The mind of the poet is unable to tell.
I will die my dear wife
But....
Don’t forget to feed the dog “Yoyo” early in the morning.
Don’t neglect spraying the garden 
First in the morning
Even if it was time for the funeral.
And don’t forget the seven o'clock news
Listen to it for the sake of your love for me
They always mention news of the lost homeland.
Don’t forget ever....
The chicken feed
I’d like to hear 
The cock’s crow every morning in my grave.
And hide the empty wine bottles
Out of the sight of mourners...
I don’t want them to accuse poets of infidelity.
And if they ask you 
What was with him before he died?
Just tell them:
He forgot to live!


(Part 3 of 3)
--------------

Before I died
My wife made me a clay statue 
And cried at it
She and her five daughters did.
But my two sons took no notice
Of their mother crying
Nor of their sisters wearing black 
But, rather,  
They seized the opportunity
And went out to join their peers
In a football game!

Before I died
My friends vied 
And jostled in front of  
Mercenary and non-mercenary newspapers’ buildings
Led by “Riyadh Alghareeb”
To provide their elegies for my immortal soul
Which reminds them of their own
As they greet death.

And since that day
I am holding on to my soul
Lest it slips away 
In a moment 
Of inattention
From me
The poet
Rukn al-Din Yunus
***
Translated by: Em. Prof. Inaam Al-Hashimi
USA
November 2013

* Rukn-al-Din Yunus is a poet from Iraq

Copyright © Inaam Al-Hashimi | Year Posted 2013

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