Long Burying Poems

Fadwa Tuqan has been called the Grand Dame of Palestinian letters and The Poet of Palestine. These are my translations of Fadwa Tuqan poems originally written in Arabic.



Enough for Me
by Fadwa Tuqan 
loose translation/interpretation by...

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English translations of Arabic poems by Fadwa Tuqan aka "The Poet of Palestine"

Enough for Me
by Fadwa Tuqan 
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Enough for me to lie in the earth,
to be buried in her,
to sink...

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"Sick Art"



I walk the streets
still and quiet
I do not lie
I do not betray
what the heart belies
pickled kidneys 

I am a ghost
of my former self

ears lent to hear 
the sweet music
of the sounds so fraught
caught up...

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THE DESERT THE WILDERNESS THE STORM

I am parched, my back is arched, 
my body racked with pain,
Nothing green in sight, 
my thirst, my plight, 
eyes playing tricks on me again. 

An illusion of rest beside...

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Perhaps you hear and see a yet emerging trend
among TransMillennials,
those born at end of the second millennium
carrying and burying ourselves in the third,
yet to die Post Bi-Millennially.

We hear a son who knows,
as his cells know...

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Forever wondering when I won’t be left behind and upset
Pondering if you’ll ever save me from burying me alive
Wandering in the woods of my spiralling mindset of regret
Squandering my time time after time and I...

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Diaspora Dwellings

On my way into our sanctuary
this past Sunday morning
a woman I had met in choir
was strangely inclined
to share her family history.

Her dad came over from Ireland
because he wanted better business opportunities
for his healthy future.

Here...

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The waters of the Holy Spirit stirred with strength
And commenced to churn itself alive inside the well,
Forming a new maelstrom so radiant it seemed to rise in special presentation,
Roaring its heartfelt existence known
Our prince roared...

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Hmmm, where do I start? With deep sighs, I am sighing right now.
I just finished burying 2 lizards, and my heart is heavy...

Let me back up a bit...bear with me if I might turn out...

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NOTE: Some of you seemed to enjoy my stories from the past. Of course, posting this in the story folder is tantamount to burying it six feet under, as you know, so I'm posting it...

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THE GRIM REAPER (JUST ANOTHER DAY AT THE OFFICE) 

The Grim Reaper; again awakens from another well-earned day of sleep
From within the bowels of this cavernous earth, from his cave, so deep

His cloak and scythe;...

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"transference"


transference 
in a narcissistic world
propaganda for the 
unsuspecting
validation 
for the damaged

writers 
soldiers 
victims 
survivors
war fought daily
in shallow trenches

buckling at the knees
stand up 
brave comedians 
salute compatriots and cowards 
caught in their camouflaged net
all the crumbling...

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I once walked into my backyard
and found two slugs mating in a bucket
I had just learned how slugs go about mating, 
or trust-I would have been rightly confused

Here hangs a long line of slime, almost...

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baseball, bird, change, childhood, games, holiday, lost,

“Seasonal Walks in the Park!”

A walk in the park after a springtime morning rainfall 
Is to hear the droplets fall from bent branches overhead
That can shock and moisten one’s...

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THE GRIM REAPER (JUST ANOTHER DAY AT THE OFFICE)

This Grim Reaper stirs from another well-earned day of heavenly sleep
From within the bowels of this cavernous earth, from his cave, so deep

His cloak and scythe, been...

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("The Visit", Part I)

My name is Lemon, without the 'ade'.
Not for my colour though, hue or shade,
For I'm a pinto with brown and white,
Said to be pretty from distant sight.
But up close is a different...

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Choices my dear one,
So many choices, 
So few voices,
Some near,
Some far,
Some to fear.

A path.
Clear and chosen.  
The erasure of a closing.
The logos of math.
The trajectory of wrath.
The conciliatory legislation blindly ruling the cosmos of...

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Clutching the moment 
Before yesterday became yesterday,
The promise,
Before he pledged his love to me,
The colors,
Before autumn waltzed away, 
Swaying in shadows of soft snowfall,
Breathing white, plunging into the thought,
A blizzard erasing the gentle flames,
Sheltered by...

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In backyards of my history
lies a tidal river
of ebb and flow revolutions.

These revolutions are normally no-news evolutions
back up toward headwaters of crisis and opportunity,
diastatic and polyphonic purest capital boundary roots
for future's river flow investment
out-flowing down
from...

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You narrators from far, from my chamber I call. Take the story that I've told & may you tell it to all...

& so it began, that this poor little man
Took off through the bog with...

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SCENE: Paul, a grief-stricken child walks into parent's bedroom at 1:06 am, climbs into bed with Dad.


Father: Hey, Paul, what are you doing up so late? 
Can't sleep?
Child: *nods*
Father: What is it? What's on your...

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Of late I find myself talking at length 
to my dog – just “puppy talk” at first.
Then with a more grown-up vocabulary
 
most doting dog-owners use – and nothing 
beyond a dog’s mental grasp, depending...

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When I stepped in here
I caught the unsymmetrical patterns on the wall,
The dark maroon contrasting curtains,
An open cupboard and 
A thick layer of dust on the broken mirror
The floor, the surrounding 
A damp room with...

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Of late I find myself talking at length 
to my dog – just “puppy talk” at first.
Then with a familiar grown-up vocabulary
 
most doting dog-owners use – and nothing 
beyond a dog’s mental grasp, depending...

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THE SEEKER

A weaving’s blending is spun within the soil of the discontent,
Legends are the roots of cultures, stories woven within the 
Fabrics of societies, but the colors of truth reveal the shocking
Details of wrong deeds,...

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