POems frOm the desert

Mohammed bin Rashid Al Maktoum

POems frOm the desert

Mohammed bin Rashid Al Maktoum

Published by Motivate Publishing

Dubai: PO Box 2331, Dubai, UAE Tel: (+971 4) 282 4060, fax: (+971) 4 282 0428 e-mail: books@motivate.ae www.booksarabia.com

Office 508, Building No 8, Dubai Media City, Dubai, UAE Tel: (+971 4) 390 3550, fax: (+971) 4 390 4845 Abu Dhabi: PO Box 43072, Abu Dhabi, UAE Tel: (+971 2) 677 2005, fax: (+971) 2 677 0124

London: Acre House, 11/15 William Road, London NW1 3ER e-mail: motivateuk@motivate.ae

Mohammed bin Rashid Al Maktoum Motivate Publishing

Cover Photograph: Henry Dallal Title Page Artwork: Abdul Qader Al Rais First published 2009

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form (including photocopying or storing in any medium by electronic means) without the written permission of the copyright holders. Application for the copyright holders written permission to reproduce any part of this publication should be addressed to the publishers. In accordance with the International Copyright Act 1956 and the UAE Federal Law No. (7) of 2002, Concerning Copyrights and Neighboring Rights, any person acting in contravention of this will be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

ISBN: 978 1 86063 252 5

British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data. A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library. Printed by Emirates Printing Press

Contents

Foreword A Mothers Complaint Affection in Your Eyes In the Lions Eye My Healer One Still Night Calmed and Brightened As the Night Approached The Old Man In the Clouds My Poetic Inspiration Zayed Why Am I Infatuated? My Burden Has Returned O Sweetheart Beauty So Natural I Saw a Star The Fire of Love The Night Shelters Wonders Orbits

ix 2 4 6 8 10 13 14 16 19 20 24 30 32 34 36 38 40 43 44

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Rare Proverbs The Moment of Joy Chance Rosewater The Setting Sun Place Me in Your Eyes O Healing Verse O Soul Mate Glossary

48 49 50 52 54 56 58 60 63

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Foreword by paulo Coelho

rtega and Gasset once wrote: I am myself and my circumstances. I knew the moment I laid my hands on the collection of poems by His Highness that I was in front of a testimony from a political, public figure but also in front of a human being with all his passions and yearnings. It was this knowledge that enabled me to accept such an invitation since I knew that I would deal with the inner questionings of a man, not only a ruler. A man who shares the same questions as many of us living today, dwelling in a world full of interrogation marks as for the future. What drives a person to set down his hand on a piece of paper and write? I know this question may seem vain, especially since being a writer myself I never managed to answer it. Yet, Ive always been intrigued by it and when I decided to write this foreword for His Highness Sheikh Mohammed bin Rashid Al Maktoum this question surfaced again in my mind. All the energy of thinking is eventually shown in the nib of a pen. Of course, here we can substitute nib by ballpoint, computer keyboard, or pencil, and I dont know the instrument His Highness uses, but I can visualise him using a pen, as it goes better with the romanticism and intensity of his poems. The pen writes words, and words eventually condense an idea. Paper is just a support for this idea. But the pen is an extension of the writers hand and desire. They serve to sign decrees, make us dream, send news, trace words of love. So the intentions that guide the pen are very important. The hand is where all the muscles of the body, all the intentions of the person writing, all the effort to share what he feels, are concentrated. It is not just a part of his arm but also the physical manifestation of his thought. A writer or a poet must hold his pen with the same respect that a violinist has for his instrument. There I was, first surprised to know that His Highness actually had written a collection of poems and afterwards curious to see the words that would flow from his visions. I received the poems and eagerly started to read them knowing that between my hands laid his soul and his heart.
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Certain poems of this collection faithfully reflect His Highnesss position of power: the very first poem A Mothers Complaint dwells on the responsibilities of a ruler, attentive to the strife of his people and concerned by those who lack support. As a man is himself and his circumstance, the poems dedicated to His Highness Sheikh Zayed bin Sultan Al Nahyan transpire his deep reverence towards this admirable ruler. It becomes clear that in His Highnesss eyes the true measure of accomplishment is based on the pillars of justice, tolerance and vision. The United Arab Emirates is the living legacy of such efforts and creativity. There is an interesting story in The Thousand and One Nights: Caliph Haroun Al Rashid decided to build a palace in order to demonstrate the greatness of his kingdom. He gathered together the greatest works of art, designed gardens, and personally selected the marbles and carpets. Beside the grounds that had been chosen, was a dwelling. Al Rashid asked his minister to convince the owner an old weaver to sell it so that it might be demolished. The minister tried in vain; the old man said he did not wish to part with it. Upon hearing of the old mans decision, the Court Council suggested he be simply thrown out. No, responded Al Rashid. He will become part of my legacy to my people. When they come to the palace, they will say: he was a man who worked in order to show the beauty of our culture. And when they see the dwelling, they will say: he was just, for he respected the work of other men. His Highnesss poems, whilst revealing the present ruler, also guide the readers to uncharted places. What an act of courage I said to myself while turning the pages of this book to present his soul bare to the world. Poetry is a mirror that reveals, without concessions, the very essence of a human being. And here I am reading the words of a man that has to play in the political
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arena, of a man that by the necessities of his position has always to be temperate and to reconcile. But how can a man temper and reconcile the passions that burn inside? Luckily His Highness didnt try to stop the ferocious roar of his emotions. On the contrary, in many of his love poems, he presents his doubts and eagerness to fully live passions. He understands that love is a strength that can either lift or destroy us. It can take us from heaven to hell in a matter of seconds. His verses on love are tinged by the imageries of the hunter: lions, gazelles and oryx roam free in the dense spaces of passion. The fire of unrequited love burns in the sleepless evenings. It is evident that His Highness turns to the blank page in order to find refuge in words. But dont let yourself be fooled by this refuge His Highness knows that our souls are vessels made to sail in the vast oceans of life. The refuge we seek is the one that can only be found when one takes risks. It is this very movement that equally guides me when I set myself on writing a book. I never know where this adventure will lead me and it always takes a lot of courage to let oneself be guided by this mysterious force. Theres a motto in Alchemy: concentrate and dissolve. As you may know, alchemists would, through laboratory studies, try to distil the mercury from the sulphur and then refine the mercury until it converted into gold. This quest would lead them to the Philosopher Stone (which was the solid component) and the Long Life Elixir. The process of distilling is based on this very simple motto: concentrate meaning extracting the essence and dissolve meaning mixing the essence with something else. Many disregard that as routine. But the alchemists were training their patience and thus transforming their perception of the world. I think you can apply this same motto to love: in order to preserve loves freedom, one has to be able at the same time to dive into its essence and to share it with others. His Highness in his love poems does exactly that: he lives, loves and shares it with his readers.
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Blake wrote two collections of poems: one on Innocence and the other on Experience. Yet, even if these two moments of a mans life may seem at odds, they are not completely antagonistic. Innocence untainted by experience too often leads to inconsequence. On the other hand, experience, disdainful of innocence, only leads a man to bitterness and seclusion. Unity between these two moments can be reached: when a Man is able to keep his soul open while knowing the ways of the world. His Highness reveals his passions but tempers them with justice and tolerance. These two qualities make for the legacy of any man on this earth. Reading His Highnesss poems, I try to imagine the inner conflict between being a poet and a ruler. But when I give a second thought to it, I understand that there is no conflict at all: when a ruler has the soul of a poet, he understands better the needs of his people. When the poet has the soul of a ruler, he exercises the most needed discipline to dig deep into his soul, to allow all the exuberance of God to be manifested. When you pass by a writer who has just finished a text, you will feel that he has an empty expression on his face and that he seems distracted. But he only he knows that he has risked a lot, managed to develop his instinct, maintained his elegance and concentration during the whole process, and can now afford to feel the presence of the universe and see that his action was just and deserved. His closest friends know that his thought has changed dimensions. Now it is in touch with the lions, gazelles, the desert, the Bedouins, the ancestors, the dreamers, the mountains, and the forgotten lessons of the past. Writing is an act of courage. But its worth taking the risk, and His Highnesss poems help us to understand better the soul of a man and the heritage of a nation.

Paulo Coelho

xii

A mothers lAment

With sorrow she approached me, to speak of her son. She seemed a broken soul, mistreated by him She thought that he valued her so dearly, He who was part of her own flesh and being. Wounded, she came to me when her hopes had been dashed, She came with pain that no time could measure. She said: After his fathers abrupt demise, I took care of him, and raised him so dearly An orphan with no place for shelter, A mere infant, still sleeping in his cradle For his sake, I took up a servants job, Hoping nights promise would someday be fulfilled Years went by, and he grew into a man, The day I awaited had finally arrived. She paused right then, with silent tears, Running down her cheeks, her pain I could see

With a broken voice, she spoke once again, Of how he threw her out of the place they called home. At first I kept silent, my soul was enraged, By the cruelty and injustice, brought upon her. I said to her: Your rights were denied as if in a lions den, They will be returned to you, after the beasts defeat With an intention to help in such difficult times, I called for him, to reprimand his wrong-doing. My words were interrupted by her pleading voice: What are you doing? she asked with a startled tone. I am his Mother, sir, do not condemn him. How can a mothers heart oppress her own child? How vast is her forgiveness, how tender her heart? When empowered she pardoned and forgot his cruel deeds.

Affection in your eyes

Your eyes contain affection, coyness and delight, But at times I glimpse through them a touch of reproach. A fatal arrow I discern within, That pierced my soul and left me insane. Let the past be; soften your heart, Forgive my mistakes, and reward my good deeds. In you, I have faith and whats destined is destined, For every occurrence, a reason exists. O sweetheart, we have shared profound emotions, And through them, savoured the sweet torture of love. We have an ailment that no medicine can cure, No experts in herbs can remedy this. I have tried and tried again to meet you, But my efforts to approach were in vain.

You have met my undying fervor with silence, Why would you respond, when you deny I exist? Oh! The agony those avoiding eyes have caused They stole my sound sleep and were gone.

in the lions eye

In the eyes of the lion, The Gazelles weakness was seen. And the eyes of the Gazelle Found the lions strength My heart was captivated and Overwhelmed by a burning passion that could not be quenched. Woe to him, who by those eyes was besieged, Piercing his chest to the very core of his being. Should he be scorned for sparing the life Of the Gazelle that he coveted and chased? Her sweetness devoured me, overcoming all bitterness, Her disregard and ignorance left me in despair. What route of escape can the enamored take, When the cure lies in her bosoms, lips, and cheeks? I shouted with a voice that could be heard for miles, Its echo resonated throughout the universe.

Your neglect for my feelings will not derail my affections, Your image, in my mind, has become entrenched. O You who embodies my hopes and desire, Have mercy on my soul, and undo these chains. I yearn for your presence, hurt from your neglect, Your ingratitude, your indifference have undone me.