Arab Book Caravan

O Beloved of My Soul Do not complain of my melancholy, Nor be troubled by my weariness, Your love is the greatest of my sorrows. Here, take my face, my hand— Read my cup and interpret for me: How do your eyes dwell within my grief? How do your doves invade me, Roaming freely in my gardens and boughs? I wake and I sleep, Yet my visions remain restless, Woven with silk of your hands, Swaying to the honey of your lips and melodies. O woman to whom I whisper my passion, My madness, and my wounds, Yet each confession to her Plunges me deeper into my dreams. O one whose brows are pharaonic, Approaching like a graceful gazelle, A sea that swallows me whole With waves of tenderness. O you whom my perfumes recognize, And from whose eyes my colors spring forth— A woman who reigns over my pages, A sultana enthroned upon my poetry. O woman who inhabits all my days, My nights, my very time itself— Do not fret over my unease, Nor the tremor in my eyes and fingers. Simply wrap me in your warmth, Brus...

The Revolutionary Voice of Adonis in Arabic Poetry Adonis (born Ali Ahmad Said Esber in 1930) stands as a transformative figure in Arabic literature. His comprehensive works, الأعمال الشعرية الكاملة لأدونيس (The Complete Poetic Works of Adonis) , are celebrated for their depth, boldness, and innovative style, challenging traditional Arabic poetic forms. With themes ranging from existentialism to revolution, Adonis has redefined Arabic poetry’s modern identity. In this article, we explore his life, influential works, and some iconic poems. Who Is Adonis? Early Life and Influences Adonis was born in the village of Qassabin in Syria. His love for poetry began early, learning classical Arabic poetry from his father, who inspired him to explore literature. His pseudonym, “Adonis,” reflects his revolutionary spirit and detachment from strict societal norms. As a young poet, Adonis quickly gained recognition for his skillful manipulation of language and imagery, often weaving philosophical th...

 I spoke to the moon of what my heart can endure, And of that which passion and hope possess. And the moon melted from her extreme beauty, And lay in the valley, pondering what to do. Its disc shimmered with the light of her presence, With jewels adorning her lips and her eyes. I said, “O Moon, I converse with you of longing, For there is nothing to my whispers but burning logs.” And those are but rays of her joy, For what do you know of her intoxication and kisses? And what do you know when her fragrance moves me, So that I am intoxicated seventy times over, without dispute? My words falter in describing her beauty, And the scales of love are unbalanced and falter. Her gaze slaughters me openly, From which the secrets of my heart bleed and conceal. And her smile burns me with a fire, Like the sun in its ascension, imploring. Like an arrow, in the heart, whispers her voice, And its penetration in the innermost being is relentless. Her hands are a pure fragrance; thus I yearn, And h...

  In a small tavern, I sat, weary and worn.. The rain fell outside, Thunder rumbled and lightning flashed, In my hand, a bouquet of roses, Yet she did not come; I am fatigued.. Long minutes passed, I gather, I subtract, I divide, I build palaces, I conquer deserts, I cut through valleys, I babble like a fool.. I travel from pole to pole, To the farthest sea in a small boat.. I watch the door; she may arrive, I watch my watch.. I stroke my beard, I sip my glass, In the throat of time, I flow, While my heart has frozen in my chest And my soul nearly perished. I am tired, I am bored, And the chair has become like a furnace, As if the vase mocks me, And the roses have turned to mercury. Will she come? No! She has not come; I am weary.. My reverie reached my ears, And distraction has shackled me at the elbow. At that moment, she sat beside me, “Forgive me, my love, for I gleam.. I have longed for you and my heart.. For your absence, it has grieved.” Then weariness collapsed, and the ice...