by Abboud al Jabiri
1
I am not alone -
the truth is
I befriended my loneliness
2
He’s satisfied with a pinch of salt on his daily bread
with a little of you at night
with a short night
with you asleep on dream’s shoulder
with a brief dream
with you walking on sleep’s shore
with a light sleep
that sways between the keening of the nai
and the clanging of goat bells
3
If God gave the sun the weekend off
people would know how you shine all the time
even though I am the only one who notices
4
It is a blank wall,
an old wall -
a heart burdened by drought and clay:
write your name here,
but don’t pierce it with nails
5
Be careful with his limbs:
mend him with fine yarn
and don’t rip his hem,
gather up his stray threads,
and squeeze him gently
when he is wet -
even if he seems like just an old shirt,
really, he is a heart
6
Like a flag
flying in a free country
you are waving in my heart
7
Who wept on the breast of the other?
Only the wet shirt
knows the answer
Translated from Arabic.
(Source & Original)
TIGHT SPACE: A vendor waited for customers in his makeshift shop cut out of a metal barrier in New Delhi Thursday. (Kevin Frayer/Associated Press)
When he answered, he went all the way back to beginnings. He instructed me about the individual, about freedom and dignity, about the human being as subject and the fact that one may not turn him into an object. ‘Don’t you remember how furious you would get as a little boy when Mama knew better what was good for you? Even how far one can act like this with children is a real problem. It is a philosophical problem, but philosophy does not concern itself with children. It leaves them to pedagogy, where they’re not in very good hands. Philosophy has forgotten about children.’ He smiled at me. ‘Forgotten them forever, not just sometimes, the way I forget about you.’
‘But…’
‘But with adults I see absolutely no justification for setting other people’s views of what is good for them above their own ideas of what is good for themselves.’
‘Not even if they themselves are happy about it later?’
He shook his head. ‘We’re not talking about happiness, we’re talking about dignity and freedom. Even as a little boy, you knew the difference. It was no comfort to you that your mother was always right.’
"
Artist: Gustave Dore, “Les Saltimbanques” (Entertainers) c. 1874
(Source: modonthemarsh)
