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