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    RIYAD AL KADI "THE COMPLETE WORKS" 1
    RIYAD AL KADI "THE COMPLETE WORKS" 1
    RIYAD AL KADI "THE COMPLETE WORKS" 1
    Ebook350 pages1 hour

    RIYAD AL KADI "THE COMPLETE WORKS" 1

    By RIYAD AL KADI

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    About this ebook

    The Book of Reflections is the translated version of 
     a set of Arabic poems written by Riyad Al Kadi, a novelist and a poet-writer. I
     

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherBadPress
    Release dateJan 10, 2018
    ISBN9781547513765
    RIYAD AL KADI "THE COMPLETE WORKS" 1

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      Book preview

      RIYAD AL KADI "THE COMPLETE WORKS" 1 - RIYAD AL KADI

      The Book of Reflections

      The Complete Works

      Part I

      By: Riyad Al Kadi

      Translated by: Mahmoud Abdulbaseer

      Nisreen Image result for ‫زخارف ي حاشيات كتب ورقية‬‎

      Nisreen

      .............

      O Nisreen, O princess on whose border

      The flowers of periwinkle and basil sleep;

      O pretty woman about whose departure

      Coffee, its beans and the cups complain;

      After your departure, I am looking for

      Your blond hair and beautiful lips.

      I am searching for the emperor

      Who stole Nisreen from me. 

      .............

      O most beautiful woman, if only you realized;

      If only you kept loving my lines of poetry.

      Where are you now?

      I cannot find you in my exile,

      Or between the great poets' lines

      Or even in the volumes of verses.

      So, tell me how I can find you.

      I want to apologize for what I have done,

      And to look for you in the years' calendar.

      .............

      You sank as a pearl in the depths of the gardens,

      As French coffee beans in a cup of coffee.

      So, tell me even with a fake message

      In which ear of wheat you are hiding.

      I travelled to all the fortunetellers

      To ask where Nisreen was residing.

      Aimlessly, I wandered the streets

      In denial about the princess of basil's vanishing.

      I searched for you in the records of the lovers,

      Yet I found nothing but the lines of my sunset,

      Clearly visible under my eyes.

      .............

      Who will wrap the cashmere shawl

      Around your beautiful shoulders?

      Who will kiss your soft hands

      That are more precious than crowns?

      O Nisreen, when you run through my mind,

      I visualize you as a basin garden.

      To me, you are greater than Solomon's kingdom

      And more pleasant than the perfume of jasmine.

      ........

      The Longing of the Jasmine

      ..................

      O beautiful flower of the North lilies,

      O musk rose of the heaven and mountains,

      O woman of fortresses and perfumes,

      I performed ablution with the water of your love.

      So, the fire of love in my bowels went out

      And the flames died down.

      .............

      I have praised your name for forty years

      Until my fingers got tired of writing.

      I was stained with Nisreen's name,

      And my woman forgot tons of love messages.

      It was a love mounting the cloud of love

      Before the watcher's scissors cut our love.

      ..........

      How can I forget the pretty one

      After I was stain with the rains of affection?

      O lovers in the outer space,

      O dwellers of the heaven,

      Tell me for God's sake:

      Can love in poetry and books be good

      Without the mention of the beloved's name?

      ............

      Here I am, swimming in her ocean;

      Kneading her breasts in the lines of love;

      Refusing to give my books in marriage to another.

      So, for God's sake tell me

      How to reach this charming woman,

      The close to me yet far away.

      ............

      Whenever I Recall Nisreen, I Weep

      ...............

      Whenever I Recall Nisreen, I weep.

      My poems, books, and the palm trees

      Of Mesopotamia also cry with me.

      Whenever I recall the calamity of love

      I release my spirit into death, weep and groan,

      Crying so greatly as if I were a child.

      .........

      Whenever I recall my love,  I get thirsty

      And so do the doves and poetry.

      I cast myself on her yellow locks of hair,

      But from her flours and her mention

      I do not quench my thirst.

      ............

      Does her cup of coffee cry?

      I wonder why I did not bow to her.

      Was that because of pride or the flesh

      Of false manhood I was clothed?

      Was her love a mirage?

      Or was I clothed with her powerful breasts?

      Nisreen, my love, O lover's prayer,

      O my undying love and the northern eyes,

      After your departure, I greatly suffered.

      ..........

      The tide surrounds me, so tell the sail

      Of your beasts to mobilize the olive horizon.

      Embrace my love, for had you been my fate

      I would not have come to an end. 

      ...........

      O Nisreen, you are my past, present and future;

      Your are the perfume of the North.

      When I fall sick,

      The perfume of your breasts is the cure.

      ........

      Four Barren Years

      ****

      My sweetheart, come forward and end the thirties

      With your white knees and red breasts

      That are like a collar of basils.

      Come forward, scatter the dust of the twenties,

      And remove the curse you put on the forties.

      I have reached the age of hopelessness,

      So do not expect anything from me

      Except that I will drop my name

      From the list of the lovers.

      ..........

      I have committed major sins and misdeeds

      Because I loved the sun,

      Abandoned the Masonic love,

      Refused a bouquet of flours,

      And opted for dying under the canopy

      Of the leaves of the musk rose. 

      ...........

      Come forward with your womanliness,

      And imitate the children in your love,

      For the lip of my beloved one

      Is dripping the fire of the garnet,

      The pleasant taste of the sour lemon,

      And the collars of henna and musk roses.

      ...........

      O woman with frivolous breast,

      Attractive, fancy perfume,

      And legendary waist,

      I implore the Most Merciful

      That you do not travel.

      Save me from my addiction

      To the pills of Aspirin.

      O my lady, my home and time executed me

      And love destined that I'm a miserable lover.

      So, O woman with conceited breasts,

      Do not be a stab in my chest,

      Like a severe stab of a spear.  

      ............

      Brutal Words

      ................

      Out of the eagerness of a blackbird,

      The yearning of a lover,

      The groans of a lily,

      ........

      Out of the oppression of the musk rose,

      The nectar of the violet,

      And the hymns of the lyre;

      ........

      With the warmth of the jungles,

      The love of the words,

      And the hymns of a minaret -

      I write my fiftieth book of verses,

      Knead the oleander and musk rose in its lines,

      Play like a child between your brutal fingers,

      And walk up ivory stairs.

      .................

      Will the years pass by

      And the legends of your waist go away?

      Your barbaric breast runs through my mind,

      As a crazy person glaring like a wheat ear.

      .............

      I let your red line manipulate me.

      Your love looks like a devil's student, mincing.

      I am wondering, my queen, who will collect

      Your wandering breast after me?

      Who will make it round and reshape it?

      If I were not God's gift to you,

      I am the best present to your virgin land.

      Save Me from Death

      ...........

      Come to me, Come to me

      Get me out of death,

      The yearning of the lover,

      And the intoxication of wine.

      Do not act haughtily,

      Come and provoke the banner of longing,

      For I am in a desperate need for you.

      So, do not act proudly,

      O child of the musk roses

      And the perfume of the basil flowers.

      .............

      Come to me like the rain,

      As an awakening and as a song.

      Do not act haughtily like a peacock,

      Dripping its feathers as a fire.

      Carve me on your breast,

      Like words engraved on a rock.

      Knead on my mouth your childhood breast,

      For nothing remains for me

      Except to fall out of fear.

      Before seeing your I was

      A hungry man coming to naught.

      ...........

      I will beg your pardon if you want,

      But do not throw my rigid body

      Between a cigarette smoke.

      Love me away from Baghdad,

      Away from the cities of fear and civilization.

      Love me, for you are my pride and victory.

      ...........

      Come to me, O forest of henna,

      Come to me and split my mouth,

      And write your enjoyment on my hand's lines,

      For after you there is neither poetry nor stability.

      .............

      Come and chew the flesh of distances,

      For my loves have no addresses,

      And I do not know a home

      But your eyes and the letter Nun;

      I write them in my expatriation every night -

      From the beginning of the right

      To the end of the left.

      ...........

      My novels and books died;

      Everything after you died,

      For you are the pearl

      Of the gulfs and oceans,

      And the blueness of the seas.

      Come and knead me with your palm;

      O my eastern woman, put and hide me

      Somewhere in your hand,

      For I have been fighting for years

      On the records and books

      To fill them with your name

      And write about you,

      Recording your victory over all women.

      ....................

      Winter Messages

      ................

      You are bright in your white dress

      Like a moon in the sky,

      Lighting the ways of the stars.

      Smilingly, my eyes shed tears

      On your white body.

      It is as though your bra

      Is a man

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