When I bid her adieu, when I knew I was going, I embraced in her б№¬ДЃriq ibn ZiyДЃd, that Arab hero. If only my lovely granddaughter had a way of knowing, The ones she meant were my ancestors of long, long ago. Her glory! I anointed an open wound festering, And in my heart anointed another that refused to go. She said: Alhambra! Pride of my ancestors glowing, Read on its walls my glories that shine and show. The decoration of Alhambra I almost hear pulsing, And the ornaments on the roof, I hear their call grow. Like All words In the dictionaries, letters, and novels Died. Behind her like a child I walked, she was guiding, And behind me, history, piles of ashes row after row. Like Your departure is not a tragedy: I am like a willow tree That always dies While standing. The long earrings on her neck were glittering, Like Christmas Eve candles that sparkle and glow. She came with me and her hair behind her flowing, Like luscious ears of grain in an unharvested meadow. In the perfume of Generalife with waters gleaming, Its Arabian Jasmine, its sweet basil and citron odour. In your Arab face, in your mouth still storing The suns of my country from the days of Arab lore. Damascus, where is it? I said: you will be seeing It in your flowing hair, a river of golden black ore. And the Jasmine inlaid in its stars were shining, With the golden singing pool, a picture of splendour. I saw a room in our old house with a clearing, Where mother used to spread my cushions on the floor. With a Damascene face, through it I was seeing, The eyelids of Sheba and the neck of Sucad once more. How strange is history, how is it to me returning? A beautiful granddaughter, from my pedigree of yore. And Umayyad, with flags lifted high, flying, Their horses streaming by, unnumbered they pour. Wikipedia summarizes Nizar Qabbani (Ma April 30, 1998) as follows: he was a Syrian diplomat, poet and publisher. Granada! Seven centuries awoke from slumbering, In her eyes, after the clothing of sleep they wore. Poem of the week: Nizar QabbaniвЂ™s The Old World is Dead. Are you a Spaniard? I asked her enquiring, She said: Granada is the city where I was bore. Two soft black eyes in perfect frames enticing, Generating after-effects from the past ages afore. Translated by Habeeb Salloum/Contributing WriterДЄfter touring the Alhambra Palace in Granada with a beautiful Andalusian guide, the Syrian poet Nizar Qabbani wrote: At the entrance of Alhambra was our meeting, How sweet is a rendezvous not thought of before. We are as worthless as a water-melon rind.A figure by a pool at the Alhambra by Henry Stanier

The dogs wouldnвЂ™t have savaged our flesh.ДonвЂ™t read about our suffocated generation, If we hadnвЂ™t ripped its young body with bayonets WhatвЂ™s the use of a people without tongues? We let our oil flow through the toes of whores. They crept through our weaknesses like ants.ДЄre we the вЂNation by which God blessed mankindвЂ™? ItвЂ™s painful to listen to the barking of dogs. ItвЂ™s painful to listen to the news in the morning You changed me from a poet who wrote love poemsД«y boastful swaggering that never killed a fly, Our speech with holes like worn-out shoes is dead. The unnamed verse below, written in 1970, seems as if it could have been written yesterday in half a dozen nations вЂ“ and in some U.S. Youth by the millions in every Arab country, and each generation since his fame and liberal spirit spread, still compose their declarations of love and new life in the light of Nizar QabbaniвЂ™s poetry. His progressive and secular politics and outlook alienated him from some conservative trends in the Arab world, awash in вЂњblood oilвЂќ or religious extremism. By profession he was a diplomat for the Syrian government through the mid 1960s.

Thereafter, he expressed resentment of male chauvinism and often wrote from a womanвЂ™s viewpoint and advocated social freedoms for women. The suicide of his sister, who was unwilling to marry a man she did not love, had a profound effect on Qabbani.

He earned a reputation for daringness with the publication in 1954 of his first volume of verse, вЂњChildhood of a Breast,вЂќ whose erotic and romantic themes broke from the conservative traditions of Arab literature. Through a lifetime of writing, Qabbani made women his main theme and inspiration. He is one of the most revered contemporary poets in the Arab world.вЂќ His poetic style combines simplicity and elegance in exploring themes of love, eroticism, feminism, religion and Arab nationalism. Wikipedia summarizes Nizar Qabbani (MaвЂ“ April 30, 1998) as follows: he was вЂњa Syrian diplomat, poet and publisher.

Nizar qabbani words poem