Poetry is the journal of the sea animal living on land, wanting to fly in the air. Poetry is a search for syllables to shoot at the barriers of the unknown and the unknowable. Poetry is a phantom script telling how rainbows are made and why they go away. Poetry is an echo, asking a shadow to dance - Carl Sandburg..........Poetry should be great and unobtrusive, a thing which enters into one's soul, and does not startle it or amaze it with itself, but with its subject - John Keats .........Poetry is the breath and finer spirit of all knowledge - William Wordsworth ..........Poets utter great and wise things which they do not themselves understand - Plato .........No man was ever yet a great poet, without being at the same time a profound philosopher. For poetry is the blossom and the fragrance of all human knowledge, human thoughts, human passions, emotions, language - Samuel Taylor Coleridge .........One demands two things of a poem. Firstly, it must be a well-made verbal object that does honor to the language in which it is written. Secondly, it must say something significant about a reality common to us all, but perceived from a unique perspective. What the poet says has never been said before, but, once he has said it, his readers recognize its validity for themselves - W. H. Auden ...........Poetry is just the evidence of life. If your life is burning well, poetry is just the ash - Leonard Cohen .........There is a pleasure in poetic pains which only poets know - William Cowper .........Genuine poetry can communicate before it is understood -T. S. Eliot ..........Poetry heals the wounds inflicted by reason - Novalis...........He who draws noble delights from sentiments of poetry is a true poet, though he has never written a line in all his life - George Sand .........A poem is never finished, only abandoned - Paul Valery ........A poet is a bird of unearthly excellence, who escapes from his celestial realm arrives in this world warbling. If we do not cherish him, he spreads his wings and flies back into his homeland - Kahlil Gibran.............Poetry should strike the reader as a wording of his own highest thoughts, and appear almost a remembrance - John Keats..........To be a poet is a condition, not a profession - Robert Frost........A poem is true if it hangs together. Information points to something else. A poem points to nothing but itself - E. M. Forster.........Publishing a volume of verse is like dropping a rose petal down the Grand Canyon and waiting for the echo - Don Marquis...........Poetry is not a turning loose of emotion, but an escape from emotion; it is not the expression of personality, but an escape from personality. But, of course, only those who have personality and emotions know what it means to want to escape from these things - T. S. Eliot ..........You can tear a poem apart to see what makes it tick. You're back with the mystery of having been moved by words. The best craftsmanship always leaves holes and gaps so that something that is not in the poem can creep, crawl, flash or thunder in - Dylan Thomas .........Poetry is boned with ideas, nerved and blooded with emotions, all held together by the delicate, tough skin of words - Paul Engle......... There is not a joy the world can give like that it takes away! Lord Byron

Arabische Lyrik von Sayed Gouda
Übersetzt ins Deutsche von Dr. Birgit Linder




Ich klopfe an den Türen ihrer Stadt

Ich öffne sie, Tür für Tür und sehe

Wieder andere Türen, geschlossen.



An der Grenze zwischen Fluβ und See

stehen die Fische beidseits still, Liebende oder Geliebte.

Sie sehen einander in die Augen

Lieben die Farbe des Gegenüber

Können nicht in die Welt des anderen schwimmen

Können nichts sein als schlicht Liebende oder Geliebte

An der Grenze zwischen Fluβ und See



Jeden Morgen

Werfe ich meine Netze in den Fluβ


Jeden Abend

Sammle ich sie ein


Ich kehre heim zu meiner Hütte

Den Geruch des Wassers tragend


Ich kehre heim zu meiner Hütte,

Von Fischen träumend!




Oh, Stern der Nacht!

Der Gott der Nacht liebt dich

Er, der durch die ganze Nacht wacht,

liebt dich

Er, der seine Lider schliesst

Und davon träumt, daβ deine Strahlen

seine Augen erhellen

liebt dich,

Einen schläfrigen Vogel, genieβt

Das Licht deines Daseins bis zur Dämmerung

Liebt dich,

Eine Straβe, müde der Einsamkeit und Dunkelheit

Liebt dich

Und dieses Herz von mir

Das dir eine Tür öffnet

Um dein Licht zu erleuchten

Und kein Raum zu lassen für das Dunkel

Liebt dich

Oh, Stern der Nacht!




Jeden Tag im Morgengrauen

Rufen die Seemöven

Ich folge ihnen

Ich zähme das stolze Meer

Und drücke auf die Wellenlippen

Einen Sternenkuss für die Jungfrau der Dunkelheit

Ich schlafe auf dem Wellenteppich

Wie ein Prophet

Ich sammle das Universum in meinen Augen

Und werde zu einer blauen Welle.

Jeden Tag im Morgengrauen

Rufen die Seemöven.

Ich folge ihnen!


Comments 发表评论 Commentaires تعليقات

click here 按这里 cliquez ici اضغط هنا

Werben Sie mit uns

Advertisement Price List


Make a donation to help Nadwah carry out its future literary projects and publications