adamahmed.blogspot.com
BARBAR | a poetry and translation blog: June 2011
http://adamahmed.blogspot.com/2011_06_01_archive.html
Monday, June 27, 2011. O gently soaring bird, bring. Word from me; don’t leave me wailing. You take, with God your guide, a note. From me, to a land where I once. Knew the way; to wilds Layla. May be found astray. On her, my heart. Depends; and if this bird, one day, returned. To me from far away, I’d take my last bread. أيها الطير المحلق غادياً. تحمل سلامي لا تذرني مناديا. تَحَمَّلُ هّدَاكَ اللّه مِنِّي رِسَالة ً. إلى بلد إن كنت بالأرض هاديا. إلى قفرة من نحو ليلى مضلة. Wednesday, June 22, 2011. Saw ours...
adamahmed.blogspot.com
BARBAR | a poetry and translation blog: April 2011
http://adamahmed.blogspot.com/2011_04_01_archive.html
Tuesday, April 05, 2011. From your love, Layla. From your love, Layla, my name is known; so all. Can tell the sake for which I suffer now;. For what rabid, violent love I bend, when any,. From one pang of want, would bow. What is she to a glance, but grief; a flicker. Spurring a fire's dying breath to glow. O Layla, you don’t smite with repulsion or disdain;. Since sympathy and mercy's all you vow;. For you (O God) I’m follower and phile,. Eaten up by love that doesn't show:. From Majnun and Layla. Al Ja...
adamahmed.blogspot.com
BARBAR | a poetry and translation blog: October 2012
http://adamahmed.blogspot.com/2012_10_01_archive.html
Monday, October 08, 2012. If permission granted this world to be,. Then let it be; there is other way. But stay. Near to the world in which X couldn’t possibly. Happen, and you’ll be loath to see that day is day. This sun, these trees, these passers-by will seem. Like grounds for things to be no other way. Permission permits no trace but in the free. Motion of all of those objects it makes play. Along, and turns a trophy out of atrophy. Permission's gift is motion’s prey). Subscribe to: Posts (Atom).
adamahmed.blogspot.com
BARBAR | a poetry and translation blog: Tawasin of Divine Will
http://adamahmed.blogspot.com/2012/01/tawasin-of-divine-will.html
Saturday, January 21, 2012. Tawasin of Divine Will. The first circle is his will; the second is his rule; the third is his power; the fourth is his knowledge and his pre-eternity. Iblis said: “If I entered the first circle I would be tried by the second. If I was made to pass the second, I would be tried by the third. If I was satisfied with the third, I would be tried by the fourth. So no, no, no, no, no. The fifth alif is Him, the Ever Living. My collaborative project with Jem Sweeney. Jem Sweeney hear...
adamahmed.blogspot.com
BARBAR | a poetry and translation blog: Tawasin of the Secrets in Unity
http://adamahmed.blogspot.com/2012/02/tawasin-of-secrets-in-unity.html
Saturday, February 04, 2012. Tawasin of the Secrets in Unity. An image of the tawasin of the secretes in unity:. Secrets tend from Him and towards Him, and are spread in Him with no sense of necessity. Those secrets from Him alarm, and those toward Him tend, for He is spread. The pronoun of unity is His pronoun, for “I” is hidden. The pronoun of the hidden is His “H.”. If I said “Wah,” they’d say “Ah.”. That which takes form is nothing but substance. This blog is an amalgam of Arabic to English translati...
adamahmed.blogspot.com
BARBAR | a poetry and translation blog: December 2010
http://adamahmed.blogspot.com/2010_12_01_archive.html
Friday, December 24, 2010. Mawqif of the Path of Knowledge. He stopped me on my way and said to me:. The path of knowledge doesn't bring me to you out of some hiding place or hidden hiding thing; it's that which hidden place and hiding hidden won’t acquaint you with. You know me by my attribute that has no adjective; a breath to you, who crave nothing in its place; a thing you learn, and nothing after gain.". Thursday, December 16, 2010. To a suicide's room. Did you always feel aired out? To be exact, ca...
adamahmed.blogspot.com
BARBAR | a poetry and translation blog: October 2011
http://adamahmed.blogspot.com/2011_10_01_archive.html
Saturday, October 29, 2011. The strangeness this poem exhibits is its music: watch it break to pieces as it shoots towards somewhere like a body spiraling through atmosphere. Or, more grounded: the poem is an air that dangles over earth as if it resided there - a voice saying "look more like what I speak, " while the earth drifts, stubbornly, by. Al Khidr says nothing. It's Musa who believes his lesson music. He saw no grounding in his lesson, so he called it unfounded. Friday, October 28, 2011. الحقيقة ...
adamahmed.blogspot.com
BARBAR | a poetry and translation blog: May 2011
http://adamahmed.blogspot.com/2011_05_01_archive.html
Tuesday, May 17, 2011. We were letters - lofty and unlipped, set. Atop the apex's highest alp, where. I was you and we was you, you he and All. In he he; ask any who once passed through. كُنَّا حُروفاً عالياتٍ لمْ نُقلْ. مُتعلِّقاتٍ في ذُرَى أعلى القُلَلْ. أَنَا أَنْتَ فيهِ وَنَحنُ أَنْتَ وأَنْتَ هُوْ. والكلُّ في هو هُوْ فَسلْ عَمَّنْ وَصَلْ. Subscribe to: Posts (Atom). My collaborative project with Jem Sweeney. A Language That Dreams (my other project). Al Jadid a review of Arab culture and arts.
adamahmed.blogspot.com
BARBAR | a poetry and translation blog: Paranoid Couplets
http://adamahmed.blogspot.com/2012/10/revelation.html
Monday, October 08, 2012. If permission granted this world to be,. Then let it be; there is other way. But stay. Near to the world in which X couldn’t possibly. Happen, and you’ll be loath to see that day is day. This sun, these trees, these passers-by will seem. Like grounds for things to be no other way. Permission permits no trace but in the free. Motion of all of those objects it makes play. Along, and turns a trophy out of atrophy. Permission's gift is motion’s prey). Arabic Literature in Translation.
adamahmed.blogspot.com
BARBAR | a poetry and translation blog: July 2011
http://adamahmed.blogspot.com/2011_07_01_archive.html
Friday, July 29, 2011. The poet should break ribs between breaths. The last look of these objects;. Her unworn shoes and grocery lists,. Is an executed man's insomnia. Thursday, July 28, 2011. Musa and Co. moseyed, musing on a river path; if this water ever runs, which bubble do I dub my own? Picky Musa touched this water with his staff to see if his luck would strike twice. Whose hand were these, that played along him, now? The bronze or golden? Which mother set this boy a-weeping? Tuesday, July 26, 2011.
