Ghazi A. Algosaibi - From The Orient The Desert

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123

FROM THE ORIENT
AND THE
DESERT

poems by

Ghazi A. Algosaibi

drawings by

Andrew Vicari

This edition published in 1994 by
Kegan Paul International Ltd

Published 2020 by Routledge
2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN
52 Vanderbilt Avenue, New York, NY 10017

First issued in paperback 2020

Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business

Copyright 1994 Ghazi A. Algosaibi

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers.

Notice:
Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe.

Distributed by
John Wiley & Sons Ltd

British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data
Algosaibi, Ghazi A.
From the Orient and the Desert. - New ed
I. Title II. Vicari, Andrew
892.716
ISBN 0-7103-0478-1

US Library of Congress Cataloguing in Publication Data
Qusayb, Ghz 'Abd al-Rahman.

From the Orient and the desert: poems /
by Ghazi A. Algosaibi : drawings by Andrew Vicari.

p. cm.

ISBN 0-7103-0478-1

I. Title

PR6051.L42F7 1994

821-dc 20 93-40620
CIP

ISBN 13: 978-1-138-99180-4 (pbk)
ISBN 13: 978-0-7103-0478-0 (hbk)

CONTENTS

Here, the sun does not fear eyes;

the moon is not cradled in the cloud,

and dawn is not lost in mist.

Here, life is a virgin still

who did not learn deceit

or womans clever wiles.

Here, all believe in tears - -

One tear for a farewell,

two for a reunion.

Here, love is not honoured nor despised,

not praised and not condemned - -

it lives in darkness,

in a glance behind a veil,

in a stammered whisper,

in the tremble of a captive breast - -

love is allowed to breathe

only on a wedding night.

Here, we have dreams for food;

we seek the moon for company,

and blissfully we sleep.

It was pouring;

rain like the copious tears

of some legendary woman

grieving a lost love;

rain was knocking at the window;

the bed was silently redolent

of the memory of the night.

Tentatively you said:

But love persists - -

after you go,

it stays - - forever.

Just one wild night.

We part, and

that is all.

Hysterical rain.

Poetrys a moment of

life jumping to a tune.

Endless is the search for truth

in a world of mirrors.

When we die we habit

the bright side of our dreams.

When you are a master, feel no pride;

When you are a servant, feel no pain.

You are in love.

Come, let us briefly dream

of a fountain spraying moonlight,

of a swing hung in the stars,

of a legend sung by rain,

of a cottage in the clouds

with walls of shadow,

doors of flowers,

of a rose tent where

sunsets live;

come and you will know

why a bedouin has to roam.

Dream not!
We cannot write our
names on water,
or ride butterflies,
or plant stars in our hearts.

Kisses
Will not recreate us
And we shed our clothes
but not our fears

For our curse
is of our essence.

The colour of my love?
Consult the sunset.
The taste? Touch flame.
And size? Attempt
the universe.

You swim in my blood,
and pulse in my heart;
you ring in my words,
and cry in my tears.

Escape?

I play in your eyes - -

walk child-like in beach sand

collecting sea shells,

take refuge in my treasure cave

amid the gleam of antique gold,

soar and sail with seagulls,

rest at the lighthouse,

and follow dolphins

to unseen shores.

In autumn

sadness tumbles from the trees

and, wind-blown, scatters everywhere;

In winter

sadness rides the clouds

and, wind-blown, showers earth;

In spring

sadness grows from soil

and twins with grass and roses;

In summer

sadness melts on every face

in drops of sweat.

When Yara smiles

a rainbow dances

in her eyes,

and dawn escapes

her lips,

and even objects

seem to smile;

When Yara laughs

the pigeons coo,

and Fairooz sings:

it is a wedding day.

But when she frowns

the breezes cease,

and spring is gone,

and joy is lost.

I sailed - -

(is there a sea more lovely

than your eyes where stars meet,

where water glows, and lighthouse

greets the weary traveller

rejected by all harbours?)

I sailed.

(Followed beauty - - faces

enhanced by art, and always

smiling smiles that never

did snare happiness.

Your face - - innocent as

child-thoughts, unadorned

by clever hands - - reflects

sadness, hunger, fear.)

I sailed!

(Met philosophers;

spent nights dissecting life,

reviewing mysteries.

Your mind has never tackled

the unknown or conquered

riddles, claimed old wisdom;

yet it knows good and evil

and penetrates hypocrisy.)

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