Showing posts with label Poem. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Poem. Show all posts

Wednesday, January 20, 2021

Ramzi Salti Recites Andalusian Poem رمزي سلطي يلقي قصيدة يا شقيق الروح

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Dr. Ramzi Salti recites a poem titled “Ya Shaqiq Al-Ruh  يا شقيق الروح” [Brother of My Soul] by Andalusian poet Ibn Sanā' al-Mulk (1155–1211). This poem belongs to the muwashahat genre, a branch of Arabic poetry that is exclusively associated with the time of Al-Andalus or Islamic Spain.

الدكتور رمزي سلطي يلقي قصيدة يا شقيق الروح للشاعر الاندلسي أبو القاسم هبة الله بن جعفر بن سناء الملك الذي ولد في مصر سنة 550 هـ -608هـ. وقد غنت له فيروز مقطعاً من هذه القصيدة بتوقيع الأخوين رحباني لحناً يمكنكم سماعه في نهاية هذا الفيديو

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يا شقيقَ الرُّوحِ منْ جَسَدي أهوىً بي منك أم لَمَمُ؟
 ضِعْتَ بين العَذْلِ والعَذَلِ وأنـا وَحْـدي على خَبـَلِ ما أرى قلبـي بمُحْتـَمـِلِ
 ما يريـدُ البـَيـْنُ من خَـلَدي وهو لا خَـصْـمٌ ولا حَـكَـمُ 
أيـها الظَّـبْيُ الذي شرَدَا تَرَكَـتْني مُـقْـلَتاك سُـدى 
زَعَـمـوا أنّي أراكَ غـدا وأظـنُّ الـمـوتَ دونَ غـدِ 
أينَ منِّي اليومَ ما زعموا؟
ادْنُ شـيـئـًا أيُّـهـا القـمـرُ كـادَ يمحـو نورَك الخَفَرُ 
أَدَلالٌ ذاك أم حَـــــذَرُ؟
لا تَخَفْ كيدي ولا رَصَدي أنتَ ظبيٌ والهوى حرَمُ 
يـا هشـامَ الحُسْـنِ أيُّ جَــــــوى يـا هــوىً 
أَزْرى بــكــلِّ هـــوى لـم أجــدْ مذْ غِبْـــتَ عــنــه دوا 
عََلَّـمتْـكَ النـَّفثَ في العُقـدِ لحـظـاتٌ كـلُّهـا سَـقـمُ 
هـل بِـــشــــوقـي ردْعُ كلِّ صَبــــا تَجْتلـــيهـــــــــــا آيـــةٌ عَجَبــــــــا 
حين أشـدوهـــــا بـكُـمْ طَـرَبــــــا 
يا نسيمَ الروحِ من بلدي خبِّرِ الأحبابُ كيفَ هُمُ

The literature of al-Andalus, also known as Andalusi literature (Arabic: الأدب الأندلسي‎, al-adab al-andalusī), was produced in Al-Andalus, or Islamic Iberia, from the time of the Muslim conquest in 711 to either the Catholic conquest of Granada in 1492 or the Expulsion of the Moors ending in 1614. 

Andalusi literature was written primarily in Arabic, but also in Hebrew, Judeo-Arabic, Aljamiado, and Mozarabic. This poetic genre remains very popular in the Arab world today, as demonstrated in the works of several contemporary singers, including Lebanese singer Fairuz and the Rahbani brothers who, in the 1970s, released an album of muwashahat under the title of Al-Andalusiyat الاندلسيات (audio excerpt by Fairuz is included at the end of this video). 

This poetic tradition has also made a profound impact on Spain's Generation of ’27, as seen, for example, in the works of Federico García Lorca. 

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Saturday, March 2, 2019

Arabology Interviews Arab American Poet/Stanford Student Maya Salameh

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Recorded in February 2019 at KZSU 90.1 FM (Stanford University)

Stanford Lecturer + Arabology radio host Dr. Ramzi Salti interviews Arab American poet Maya Salameh, a full time student at Stanford, who recites her poem "My Other Mouth," forthcoming in The Greensboro Review.

Listen to the interview below or at

Read the poem below ©Maya Salameh ©The Greensboro Review

my other mouth //

if you ask me if I am fluent in Arabic / I will speak

of mispronunciation / I will tell you of the vast spaces / between

letters / I will tell you / my Arabic is words / wracked with labor

pains / village / in the pads of your feet / the roots of verbs / I conjugate

the hooked nose / the unruly hair / the holy in me /

if you ask me if I am fluent in Arabic / I will tell you / my Arabic / wonders how torture tastes on the tongue / I will tell you / I have known words like /

go & bitch & home & brown /

if you ask me I will tell you / my Arabic fell in love / with

a couple tongues / who never loved it back / my

Arabic / is a voice full of seashells / has birthed cities / men / empires / if you ask me / if I am fluent in Arabic / I will tell you about

gradations of skin color / I will say / I am more parts storm / than organs /

if you ask me I will tell you / I don’t know how to translate

purpose / from my mother tongue / but my Arabic

loves like mint / in stalks & leaves /

is a mouthful of holy water / the splintering of ships / the crucifix / on my grandfather’s wrist / if you ask me if I am fluent /

I will answer / I take my canines out

with my earrings every night / I inventory

my edible parts / I will answer / I am not a pretty girl /

if you ask me I will tell you / I am not a pretty girl /

but my Arabic is beautiful / I have caught glimpses / the rolled r’s running through

my wrists / the calligraphy of my coastline shoulders / the forgotten

syntax of my full lips / if you ask me if I am fluent

I will tell you / I am a poet / & a poet /

owes a language her tongue / hands / toes /

I will say / before its arrival / the world was prose /

if you ask me if I am fluent I will confess / my Arabic is

poetry / & in a certain quarter of the city / on such & street / I will be remembered / as the one whose stories ate her alive / whose poetry

gutted her / in slashes of five / seven / five /

I will remind you / I have always fallen in love

too easily / I will tell you / the only language I know /

is moments of misspeaking / I diplomat my teeth /

I constellation my stammer /

if you ask me if I am fluent / I will say / a language / is just

the stars / forgetting their grammar.

©Maya Salameh ©The Greensboro Review

Arabology Interviews Syrian Poet Lubna Kayyali

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Stanford Lecturer+ Arabology radio show host Dr. Ramzi Salti interviews Syrian Poet Lubna Kayyali who recites her poem ما زلت لا أنجح [I Still Do Not Succeed] in Arabic + English Translation.
This interview was recorded at KZSU 90.1 FM (Stanford University) in November 2018.
Listen to the interview below or at

For a video excerpt of Lubna Kayyali reciting her poem in Arabic, watch below or go to:

Here is the poem in Arabic + English Translation ©Lubna Kayyali

I have been told
To reap the fruits, you must labor
To prove that the earth rotates,
You must subtract five from ten
and become a scientist
Your ethnic color will dim
And you will raise up your gender

I was told
To reign over the language
You must memorize its alphabet
And chant in rhymes
For only then would you attain civility
Your dialect will fade
And your star will shine bright

I was told
To understand, you must read
And to succeed, you must understand
So I labored, memorized, recited, read, understood
But I did not succeed
I dared to inquire: why?
They replied:
Your star is still dim
So I seized a golden thunderbolt and struck my star
It tilted, straightened, then shone bright
In the sky of defeated stars
But, still, I do not succeed
So, again, I asked: why?
They answered:
Your dialect is Aleppian and you exude Damascene jasmine and lilies
So, I stole a foreign tongue
Chewed on it for hours, days, and decades
But my mouth swelled and my ​Dadd* transformed to a broken, frail Ghain**
But, still, I am not succeeding
Perplexed, I asked: why?
They answered:
Your gender is feeble and contemptible
It was, after all, created from a rib
Doomed to live in life’s margins
With bread and meat at its very core
And countless children as its ultimate end
So I skinned my soft flesh
Replaced it with scales of steel
Ripped out my perfumed hair
And wore my grandfather’s ancient fez instead
I plucked out my rosy nails
And affixed, in their place, tyrannical claws
But, still, I was not succeeding…
Baffled, I asked: why?
They answered:
Your color remains Arabic
Its shadow is Syrian
And you are now in the land of Giants
They hate the Arab
And loathe the Syrian
So I scurried to the box of crayons
And painted myself in white, green, and blonde
I spoke and walked my colors
Until I mastered them
Until I forgot the land of my ancestors
Until I forgot my father’s Kufic​*** pen
Until I forgot my grandmother’s Rifa’i cuisine

Then they spoke to me again
But to whom were they speaking?
They said: you!
But who am I?
And I still do not succeed

*​Dadd (الضاد     ): a letter unique to the Arabic language.
** Ghain (الغين    ): a soft-sounding letter in

*** Kufic (كوفي    ): the oldest calligraphic form of the various Arabic scripts.

قد قیل لي
 إن اجتهدتِ حصدتِ
 إن طَرَحْتِ خمسة من عشرة أثَبتِ أن الأرض تدور
  وغدوت عالمة
 لونك یشُف وجِنْسكِ یرقى

  قد قیل لي
 إن حفظتِ الأبجدیة ونشدتِ القافیة تمَلَّكْتِ اللغة
 وأصبحت راقیة
 لهجتُكِ تبْهَت ونجمكِ یسطع

 قد قیل لي
  إن قرأت فهمت وإن فهمت نجحت
 فاجتهدت وحفظت ونشدت وقرأت وفهمت
  ولكنني لم أنجح
 استقصیت: لماذا؟
  مازال نجمك خافت
 فأخذت صاعقة ذهبیة وضربت نجمي
 فمال واعتدل وسطع في سماء النجوم الخاسرة
 ولكنني مازلت لا أنجح
 سألت: لماذا؟

 لهجتك حلبیة وریحك تفوح یاسمین دمشقي وریحانا
 فسرقت لسان أعجمي
 ولكْتُهُ ساعةً ویومًا وعقودا
 فتهیج فمي وتبدلت الضاد إلى غیْنْ لینة مكسورة
 ولكنني مازلت لا أنجح
 تعجبت: لماذا؟
 جنسك خسیس واهن
  قد خلق من ضلع مهشم
 وهاهو یعیش حیاة مهمشة
 محورها خبز ولحم ومآلها أطفال معددة
 فسلخت جلدي الناعم
 وركبت حراشف فولاذیة
 واقتلعت شعري المعطر
 وارتدیت طربوش جدي المعتق
 ونزعت أظافري الزهریة
 وثَّبتُ مخالب مُسَتِّبدة
 ولكنني مازلت لا أنجح
 ذهلت: لماذا؟
 مازال لونك عربي
وظله سوري
 وأنت على أرض العمالقة
 یكرهون العربي
 ویحتقرون السوري
  فهرعت إلى علبة الألوان
 وتلونت بالأخضر والأبیض والأشقر
  وأتقنت ألواني فنسیت أرض أجدادي
 ونسیت قلم أبي الكوفي
 ونسیت مطبخ جدتي الرفاعي
 ولم أعرف من یكلمون
 قالوا لي: أنت
 فقلت: ومن أنا؟
 ومازلت لا أنجح

 ©Lubna Kayyali

Listen to the full interview below or at

Ramzi Salti's Talk: Healing through Lebanese Music (EPIC Fellows, Stanford Global Studies, September 2020)

Watch full talk at This audio-visual talk by Stanford Lecturer + Arabology program host Dr. Ramzi Salti was pre...