The Barbarian

The Barbarian
By: Ahmad Hussein
Translated from Arabic By: Adib S. Kawar
The arrogant West from the rear
Like a “Flamingo” dancer’s shoes
Who his spirit’s moaning he doesn’t listen
From his madness’
Cave she is trying to flee.

His own empty stairway he is mounting
Coughing with haughtiness
Fitting a sick God

I am the foolish civilization’s baby
That not a single massacre it didn’t commit against others
It was murdered by multi nationalities Witches
Not a single word it uttered except kisses
To be a viper
the charlatan accuses me to be;
so in his basement to raise up his cobras
un-perplexed 

It is I who, how to leave caves, taught him
How to cock food
when a savage hunter he was
with his untamed dogs
the raw meat of his quarries he shared

it is I the fool by goodness
how a human being to be,
but then I didn’t realize
what did the predatory iceman
with his sharp claws do.

From the Phoenician shores of Konya to him I came
when human oblations he was sacrificing
to the ghosts of the Olympus
and taught him that Zeus
a play boy he was
like all Greek gods
likes dancing and beautiful maidens virgins he loved
with unscratched necks
art, the stage and red wine he adored
more than blood

But the barbarian
after Zeus and his comrades he got rid
his barbarian self he started worshiping
through philosophy
an heir of the Olympians he became
didn’t leave behind anything
except the oblations to them he sacrificed

Poet Ahmad Hussein

Born in Haifa Palestine 1938
Secondary school education followed by a short university education
Born in a middle class peasant family, which moved from massmass village to Haifa, but presently living in Massmass.
Worked as a school teacher in different schools up till 1986
Took part in civil activism, and cooperated with the late Mansour Kardoush (One of the founders of Land Day) and Saleh Baransy and others in establishing several civil service societies, among which was “The Center of Revival of Palestinian Culture” in Taibeh town
The Society of Prisoners Advocates”, “Human Rights Society”, “’Sawt’(voice) Cultural Publishing Society” Nazareth” and “Voluntary Work Society” – Massmass.
Worked for several years as a regional field voluntary work for the cooperation establishment – Genève
My Books:
·       Time of Fear – A poetry collection – Abnaa Al-Balad Movement
·       The Expected God’s Hymn -- A poetry collection – Al-Asswar Publishing – Acre
·       The Exodus from the Hijra Era – A poetic narrative(?) Assawt
·       The Face and the Nodule – A collection of short stories – Assawt
·       With Sorrow I Exhilarate Anew – a lengthy poem – Canaan magazine publishing
·       Edward Saied Between the Realities of Illusions and the Illusions of Reality – A study with other studies in one book – Canaan Magazine
·       A Message in Rejection – A collection of articles about the period and the Palestinian human being – A volunteer publisher
·       Readings in the Square of Execution – A poetry collection – Kul Shaie publishing house
·       A collection for children -- Kul Shaie publishing house
·       Many articles and poems on enternet
Under publication:
Azanatem poem and other poems -- Kul Shaie publishing house

A Dream

A Dream
By: Ahmad Hussein
Translated from Arabic By: Adib S. Kawar
We shall never meet after today
When a flag, an army and a police force, you shall have
A parliament and an insurance establishment,
Central squares with names,
A national football team,
An orchestra, a museum and a university
Real poets and thinkers
And you shall have a president who knows what he really is,
Ministers who shall not steal kitchens,
And baby’s dolls

And when girls stroll
In universities and streets without veils
And breed their cubs like delicate lionesses,
When forgotten martyrs you have,
Flag carrying traitors
And their bold heads shining in the dark
because of the repeated patting
by feet gloves


When all of that happen
From nothing I shall be too far
Satisfied I shall be now
To with my dream I shall be sitting
Closing my eyes
All what I mentioned see
And rejoice

What is existing is the past
The dream is the fact
Because it is alone
Bearing people’s messages
To the future

Doll

Doll
By: Ahmad Hussein
Translated from Arabic By: Adib S. Kawar

A little baby’s doll  you are
Who without a doll he is
A poor man’s dream
So when shall Gaza’s children rejoice?
And the Palestinian a king becomes?

How rude is this boy
We beat our drums in kings and president’s processions
He bursts our drums with a drop of ink
We see what couldn’t be seen, he sweeps the floor
With our deceptive glory. he pulls the souls of our ears
Without pity’
How lowly you are
Come out from behind your lies
Come out from the stables of your thrones
And your presidential places
And acknowledge your ignobility!!!

A myth

A myth
By: Ahmad Hussein
Translated from Arabic By: Adib S. Kawar
Your cup I want to spill
On my feet
Not because you I hate
But it is my duty to do that
My humanity I have to defend
But how that I can do?
Without defending yours too
The price to be paid is this
to whom doesn’t deserve

To fall you have no right
for a cake
or for an additional loaf
to assassinate your humanity
to dine twice,
or your kitchen to redecorate
squandering this is on somebody else’s account
may be a man who doesn’t know you
to what to be?
All dogs make like you
But not its dignity’s sacrificing
What would you become
If twice you dine
From another dog’s bread

How many a time you would betray Palestine
A small country it is
That more than its peasants it cannot inhabit
And few animals
To from soil dig out your bread
And few cows to milk…

And some dogs for sheep to guard
against the wilderness’ beasts
that its homeland it didn’t betray
except for you

Did you about a wooden doll read
That a forged father it had,
From witches its humanity was snatched
In spite of them
A myth this is,
but are you sure you are real?
Impossible!!!!
Nature doesn’t guarantee betrayal…

A Tale

Grey Poems
By: Ahmad Hussein
Translated from Arabic By: Adib S. Kawar

A Tale
Tonight I return
to graveyard’s memory
and in pain’s manuscripts
piled on shelves I read
about those with who I drank coffee
and peasants’ chestnuts we ate

*
in the Lemon’s tree of charge Coffee shop
over the soil under which our fathers sat
on memory’s neck a rosary I hang
with a bead for each of them
slowly… slowly growing long
the equation is this:
longer live
faster you die

*

When their time come
to on the wall their portraits to hang
and on stones their names to engrave
the graveyard can’t take any more of them
the proprietorship of shade we profaned
in the oak trees shade
in silence they occupied
their new coffee shop
one before the other they arrive

*

between the oak tree
and the lemon tree in the mosque’s plaza
ten minutes in the coffin’s speed
in between them now
a Falasha Moure school
two minutes away from the mosque
but the graveyard
for the dead half of it
now for taxis is the other half
near it is the Oak Cabaret
by a Slavic immigrant it is owned
now Nathan he is called
to customers Russian chestnuts he serves
with drinks

*

The cabaret I visited to Al-Fatehat* to recite
Nathan saw me and knew
with politeness to me he told:
the first Arab you are here to come!
Here I was born, I responded!!!
He smiled, and the Fatehat he left me to complete…!
when finished I got…
the policeman with reverence
that is proper for the place he told me,
with me please come:
“This place is for Jews only!!!
to him I responded
“There are no Jews here…
and no Jewish places here there are…
did this myth you believe?!
“What is there here”, he replied
To him I responded:
“If you don’t know,
What are you doing here?
He replied With steam bursting out of him:
“To the police station come with me…
I asked him:
Isn’t the police station… For Jews only… here?!

*

Later they told me
that he shot me
And he died!!!