Stand for an hour: a poem with translation
I have been listening to this amazing piece by Poet Tamim Albarghouthi for almost a decade and I have translated it about 3 years ago; and now refined it to a better version. I also have taken AJPlus production of the poem and added the translation as subtitles.
There are corrections in one of the verses and the final correct version is below…(if you figure out which verse I translated wrong in the video, I have a prize for you, just contact me)
Albarghouthi is a renowned Palestinian-Egyptian poet, columnist and political scientist. He delivered his masterpiece, “Stand for an hour” or “Sins of Death” poem at the renowned competition “Ameer Alshura’a'” , “Prince of Poets” and although he didn’t win the competition, he was by far the best.
So here comes the poem and also the video:
Stand for an hour,
My words and their narrator shall be a sacrifice for you
And don’t let down whom time has let down
I’ve known sorrow since my childhood
He (sorrow) is my friend; I can’t pass him when I face him
And that he has enough of a palm
If he rests it on a mountain
The palm won’t be overburdened
He turns me upside down with it
Like how a newborn’s leg clings to the midwife
He carries me like a falcon carrying his catch
Lifting it up above the clouds;
So if(the catch) falls from eagle’s claws; it wrecks
If it stays in his claws, it shall eat it
I am afraid that the oppressors may die before me
Full of death, it does not distinguish
When death approach the killed, therefore
The killer won’t escape death either
Indeed, we are the sins of death; and they are many
And they are the virtues of death when you ask him
He comes off on the day of reckoning as an advocate
He responds to his critics and argues with them
But those killed in my country who were gracious
Will keep him unable to find the answers even if he tries
You see the child under the wall calling
“Dad, don’t be scared” as death heavily pours
And his father; horrified; waving his hand;
Unable to block the bullets with his fingers
I see beauty didn’t help the beautiful
And since when the killed one is protected by morals
On the news bulletin every night
We see our death rise and loom
Coffins are weaved for us every night
For fifty years, its (death’s) spindles never wear off
I see death finding no one but us to prey on
As if we’re like its family and its tribes
And those killed on the Iraq beach as of like
Embossed mat, and art has perfected the sewing
Using it to pray on the deceased; and then it’s put down
And his eye turns away from his reach
If we lose the Levant and Iraq
As those are the entrances to the Haram (Ka’bah)
I see time not willing to be our ally
Nor we’re capable to be its enemy to fight it
Perhaps there might be a generation forthcoming or has already passed;
That would exchange our time for theirs
Arabic version:
قفي ساعةً يفديكِ قَوْلي وقائِلُهْ
ولا تَخْذِلي مَنْ باتَ والدهرُ خاذِلُهْ
أَنَا عَالِمٌ بالحُزْنِ مُنْذُ طُفُولَتي
رفيقي فما أُخْطِيهِ حينَ أُقَابِلُهْ
وإنَّ لَهُ كَفَّاً إذا ما أَرَاحَها عَلَى جَبَلٍ
ما قَامَ بالكَفِّ كَاهِلُهْ
يُقَلِّبُني رأساً على عَقِبٍ بها
كما أَمْسَكَتْ سَاقَ الوَلِيدِ قَوَابِلُهْ
وَيَحْمِلُني كالصَّقْرِ يَحْمِلُ صَيْدَهُ
وَيَعْلُو به فَوْقَ السَّحابِ يُطَاوِلُهْ
فإنْ فَرَّ مِنْ مِخْلابِهِ طاحَ هَالِكًا
وإن ظَلَّ في مِخْلابِهِ فَهْوَ آكِلُهْ
عَزَائي مِنَ الظُّلاَّمِ إنْ مِتُّ قَبْلَهُمْ
عُمُومُ المنايا مَا لها مَنْ تُجَامِلُهْ
إذا أَقْصَدَ الموتُ القَتِيلَ فإنَّهُ
كَذَلِكَ مَا يَنْجُو مِنَ الموْتِ قاتلُِهْ
فَنَحْنُ ذُنُوبُ الموتِ وَهْيَ كَثِيرَةٌ
وَهُمْ حَسَنَاتُ الموْتِ حِينَ تُسَائِلُهْ
يَقُومُ بها يَوْمَ الحِسابِ مُدَافِعًا
يَرُدُّ بها ذَمَّامَهُ وَيُجَادِلُهْ
وَلكنَّ قَتْلَىً في بلادي كريمةً
سَتُبْقِيهِ مَفْقُودَ الجَوابِ يحاوِلُهْ
ترى الطفلَ مِنْ تحت الجدارِ مناديًا
أبي لا تَخَفْ والموتُ يَهْطُلُ وابِلُهْ
وَوَالِدُهُ رُعْبَاًَ يُشِيرُ بَكَفِّهِ
وَتَعْجَزُ عَنْ رَدِّ الرَّصَاصِ أَنَامِلُهْ
عَلَى نَشْرَةِ الأخْبارِ في كلِّ لَيْلَةٍ
نَرَى مَوْتَنَا تَعْلُو وَتَهْوِي مَعَاوِلُهْ
أَرَى الموْتَ لا يَرْضَى سِوانا فَرِيْسَةً
كَأَنَّا لَعَمْرِي أَهْلُهُ وَقَبَائِلُهْ
لَنَا يَنْسجُ الأَكْفَانَ في كُلِّ لَيْلَةٍ
لِخَمْسِينَ عَامَاً مَا تَكِلُّ مَغَازِلُهْ
وَقَتْلَى عَلَى شَطِّ العِرَاقِ كَأَنَّهُمْ
نُقُوشُ بِسَاطٍِ دَقَّقَ الرَّسْمَ غَازِلُهْ
يُصَلَّى عَلَيْهِ ثُمَّ يُوطَأُ بَعْدَها
وَيَحْرِفُ عُنْهُ عَيْنَهُ مُتَنَاوِلُهْ
إِذَا ما أَضَعْنَا شَامَها وَعِراقَها
فَتِلْكَ مِنَ البَيْتِ الحَرَامِ مَدَاخِلُهْ
أَرَى الدَّهْرَ لا يَرْضَى بِنَا حُلَفَاءَه
وَلَسْنَا مُطِيقِيهِ عَدُوَّاً نُصَاوِلُهْ
فَهَلْ ثَمَّ مِنْ جِيلٍ سَيُقْبِلُ أَوْ مَضَى
يُبَادِلُنَا أَعْمَارَنا وَنُبَادِلُهْ
Video: