Poetry is the journey 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

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New Release


Sydney Lea to The Fifth Issue of Nadwah: I Tend to Be a Formal Poet



In this fifth issue of Nadwah, we divide the featured poets into classical, modern and contemporary poets. For the first time, Nadwah introduces a new corner called Guest of Honour, in which we interview a
prominent poet and feature a few of his poems in its original language and in translation. We are happy to have Sidney Lea, the Vermont Laureate Poet, as our
guest of honour in this new issue.

We are also pleased to have three new members on our editorial board: Hatif Janabi serves as editor for the Polish section, Mariela Condero as editor for the
Spanish section and Lena Oh for the Korean section. A warm welcome to our two new members. More editors and translators of different languages are still
needed to join our editorial team.

All the poems in this issue are translated in both Arabic and English and featured together with the poem in its original language. We hope this provides a
valuable source and reference for teachers and students of poetry translation.

As a professional translator, I believe that translation should be done directly from the source language and not through a medium language. However, and
unfortunately, I have to go against my discipline and depend on the English translations when I translate poems written in a language I donít understand. Sometimes, the English translation reflects the translatorís own interpretation and preference. This is why a second-hand translation is often vulnerable to deviation from the literal meaning in the original
text but not from the overall meaning. I hope that the general poetic merit gained outweighs that which is lost in translation.

Sayed Gouda
Changchun - China
29 May 2019

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Book Reviews


صلاح عليوة - مصرSayed Goudaís Serina:  The Split Self in a Tumultuous Postmodern World

Writes Salah Elewa

The world we live in is a tough place, and life becomes even tougher when the individuals find themselves face to face with threatening demons and dangers in both their inner and their outer worlds. But there is always hope in the ability of human soul to conjure up the required courage, patience and resilience, and strive to overcome all obstacles and dangers. This is what we witness when we read Sayed Goudaís latest novel Serina.

The novel narrates the story of a reporter from Hong Kong who aspires to cover the events of Egyptian sit-ons that took place in Cairo around the middle of 2013, an episode in the Arabic spring which culminated in Egypt in February 2011, and is somehow echoed in Hong Kong through a series of protests that overtook Hong Kong towards the end of 2014, attracting the attention of the world for almost three months.

Read the full review


Culture News


Whisper for Rain!

Editorís Foreword 

This new issue of Nadwah features sixteen established and published poets  that represent a wide varieties of cultures. We are happy to have in this new issue Native American, African, Pakistani,  Mongolian, Greek and Italian poems translated in Nadwah for the first time. As we did in the previous issue, we have translated some master poets as well: Rilke, Nabokov and al-Malaeka.

This issue welcomes new editors who joined our editorial board: Marjan Strojan for the Slovenian section, Sarah Thilykou for the Greek section and Luca Bennassi for the Italian section. We still welcome more editors and translators of different languages to join our editorial team.

We are starting a new trend that we shall keep in the coming issues, which is to translate each and every poem into both English and Arabic. Therefore, all poems not written originally in either Arabic or English, will be published in three languages: in its original language, as well as in Arabic and English translations. We insist on having the poem in its original language so that it can be a reference for translation teachers and students.


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You Are My Garb

Editorís Foreword 

The current issue of Nadwah features poets from Egypt, Iraq, Syria, Russia, Japan, China, Hong Kong, Macedonia, India, Slovenia, Australia, Canada, the UK, Germany and the USA. This issue, not only features contemporary poets, but some modern poets too such as Nagi, Rasafi and Qabbani.


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Ending 2018: More World Poetry

Editorís Foreword 

This second issue of Nadwah features a number of new poets not featured in the first issue. While Nadwah focuses predominantly on poetry written and translated into English and Arabic, this issue gives voice to poets from different parts of the world who write in languages other than English and Arabic, such as  Chinese, German and Russian.


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Nadwah Poets - Special Issue

Editorís Foreword

The idea of launching this magazine has been on my mind for many years and I have always procrastinated carrying it out for one reason or another. Maybe one of the reasons is knowing how immense this project might be and how much effort and time it will take. In the end, I knew I had to start somewhere.


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Poems Featured in Issue 5

Poetry in English



Sydney Lea - USA

you might have been that long-legged
woman striking as tall as you
we came out of the very same Rothko exhibit
the show was all on one floor
so where in the world could she have been
she seemed rushed hailed a cab and fled a mere instant

I noticed her beauty no doubt
but more her eyesí sadness though they never met mine
her look conveyed well I canít say what
she shook out her hair at the car-door

More on page 18 (Issue 5)


Sydney Lea - USA

His motherís doll surveys the living room.
Her hair is humanĖ his grandpaís. Fragile and dry,
still it clings to the sham childís jaundiced muslin dome.
In the kitchen, he has assembled a Chinese puzzle,
acquired somewhere on a trip in an age gone by:
back, that is, in the days when he still traveled.


Iíve watched him push his granny glasses up
above his brow, in order to scrutinize

More on page 20 (Issue 5)



Sydney Lea - USA


The young send their news by phone nowadays.
Iíve just watched a video from a son:
it shows his sweet-tempered three-year-old boy
winding a key inside a stuffed monkey,
then laying the musical toy in the crib
of his baby brother. Intent, he listens

More on page 22 (Issue 5)


Birgit Bunzel - Germany

Leaves quiver, compelled from below,
as though by the breath of the underworld.
The meadow, too, heaves in the wind,
and a heron with amber-beaded eyes
soars across the water with slow beats of
its wings.

More on page 28 (Issue 5)


Lena Oh - South Korea

Mom, Iím home.
Shouting to the air,
You throw me, here and there.
You left me scattered,
But no words before we parted.
All my life, I have accompanied you
To every little corner you wanted to go.
I was there with you,
Walking miles and miles together.
Itís alright you donít thank me, ever.

More on page 29 (Issue 5)

Closed Gate Closed Gate

Poetry in Translation



Pushkin - Russia

Translated from Russian by Vladimir Nabokov


What is my name to you? `Twill die:
a wave that has but rolled to reach
with a Ione splash a distant beach;
or in the timbered night a cry...
`Twill leave a lifeless trace among
names on your tablets: the design
of an entangled gravestone line
in an unfathomable tongue.

More on page 5 (Issue 5)


Jan Kochanowski - Poland

Translated from Polish by Adam Czerniawski


My fair Orszula, where have you fled
Are you above the celestial spheres, numbered?
Among angelic hosts? Are you in Paradise?
Or are you taken to the Fortunate Isles?
Does Charon guide you over disconsolate lakes,
Offering draughts from the erasing stream,
So, you canít know my tears?

More on page 6 (Issue 5)


Konstantin Miladinov - R. N. Macedonia

Translated from Macedonian by
Graham W. Reid

If I had an eagle's wings
I would rise and fly with them
To our own shores, to our own climes,
To see Stamboul, to see Kukuö,
And to watch the sunrise: is it

Dismal there, as it is here?

More on page 8 (Issue 5)


C. P. Cavafy- Greece
Translated from Greek by Sarah Thilykou

Both naked, they just came out from the sea of the Samian
coast; from the sport of swimming
(on a hot summer day).
They were delaying getting dressed, hating to cover
the beauty of their sculpted nudity,
harmoniously complementing the loveliness of their faces.

More on page 10 (Issue 5)



Liu Bannong - China

Translated from Chinese by Sayed Gouda

Some light clouds float up in the sky,
and a light breeze wafts over the land.
The light breeze blows through my hair,
how could I not miss her?
The moonlight is in love with the ocean,
and the ocean is in love with the

More on page 12 (Issue 5)


Liu Bannong - China

Translated from Chinese by Sayed Gouda

A storm thundered in the middle of the
and awoke me from my dreams, startled.
I remembered my small yard
where a cassia bloomsó
blooms with golden flowers.
I remembered it with bitterness.
Eventually, after tossing and turning,
thinking of it,
I still didnít know what to do for it.

More on page 13 (Issue 5)


Khalil Hawi - Lebanon

Translated from Arabic by Sayed Gouda

Bitter is his first night
and bitter is his first day
in a strange land.
Bitter were his boring nights.
How often he bit on his hunger,

More on page 14 (Issue 5)


Khalil Hawi - Lebanon

Translated from Arabic by Sayed Gouda

We were a wall against a wall.
How painful talking was!
How painful silence was!
Full of misfortune.
How painful the neighbourhood was!

More on page 14 (Issue 5)


Kim Chun Su - S. Korea

Translated from Korean by Lena Oh


Until I spoke his name,
he was nothing more than a mere gesture.
When I spoke his name,
he came to me and then became a flower.
Just as I spoke his name,
will someone speak my name now,

More on page 15 (Issue 5)


Jorge Palma - Uruguay

Translated from Spanish by Peter Boyle

I want to believe that men
don't die far from their motherland.
That the childhood skies,
those eyes, the afternoons
that you and I breathed,
the railings around the lit up
courtyards where I would kiss you

More on page 27 (Issue 5)


Stathis Gourgouris - Greece

Translated from Greek by the author

Shadows and openings
of bodies in the shade
of a window you seek,
a piece of life
perhaps to grasp
if life ever really
let you.
Yet, instead of letting
bits and pieces open to chance,
might it not be better to grant
your shadows a bit of grace

More on page 24 (Issue 5)


Stathis Gourgouris - Greece

Translated from Greek by the author

Only a saint would wake
In a shawl of tears
Or possibly a child
Betrayed by the coldness
Of an unbearable dream
To face the mystery
Of yet another lifeís morning
For waking means
Either bliss or terror
Depending on the reality
Of dreams
Or whether dreams fail
To bear real pain
Or pleasure of discovering

More on page 25 (Issue 5)


Mariela Cordero - Venezula

Translated from Spanish by the author

He is full of my confession
he feels the face of the unknown
he plays with the atoms of my Eden
he shouts to the crowd that name
but no one can decipher his scream.
The sun of this story without telling
Expands me.

More on page 27 (Issue 5)


Mariela Cordero - Venezula

Translated from Spanish by the author

You were in the middle of the downpour
a taste of the climate
a landscape to succumb to.
You were multiplied in every drop
like an invading fable.
You were like thunder
in the scar of my night.

More on page 27 (Issue 5)


Eleonora Rimolo - Italy

Translated from Italian by Alessandra Giorgioni

The morning after
shards of bone and shreds
of epidermis were mingled
with iron:
the sun melted feeling
of pain passed
selfishness crossed
the platform, gliding,
the black angel lifted his
foot, climbed over
the slimy heights,

More on page 30 (Issue 5)


Salah Elewa - Egypt

Translated from Arabic by the author

You keep wandering in empty seasons,
Where strangers feed their songs to fire for
Mostly in tales where ancient tunes roam
in ancient winters.
Night after night ports keep aspiring to
The tinkles of the poor man 's cup reach
the end of the alley
All dewís words vanish when the sky goes
to sleep

More on page 31 (Issue 5)


Yusuke Nakashima - Japan

Translated from Japanese by the author


Staring at the star of Bethlehem, she's a
starving stargazer!

Please keep me keen to kiss a knight of
knowledge in a Kafkaesque Kaleidoscope.

More on page 32 (Issue 5)

Send in your submission, whether your translation of classical or modern poems, or your own writing to the magazine e-mail to be considered for publication. Please read the publication guidelines first before submission.

Poems Featured in Previous Issues

Poetry in English


Simon j. Ortiz - America

In this hemisphere, corn is ancient and young: it is the seed, food, and symbol of a constantly developing and revolutionary people.


Donít fret now.


Songs are useless

to exculpate sorrow.

Thatís not their intent anyway.

More on page 15 (Issue 4)

Itís near time to leave for the unknown

JumokeVerissimo - Nigeria 

(For a friend living with cancer)


Itís time to leave for the unknown

Time when past years skid in my head

Time to shed the burden of despair

From a mind where tears peak gut


Ignorance is no virtue for one dying

I choose contentment in knowing nothing

Gathering strength thinking and disregarding

More on page 25 (Issue 4)

To the Widow

Adjei Agyei-Baah - Ghana


You are the sleepless duck

Who rests on a single leg

Keeps vigil over a silent compound

And waits upon the ancestral spirits

To come for the last morsel of the day

More on pages 28-29  (Issue 4)

Dear Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

Osita Igbo - Nigeria


We should all be feminists?  No! It is rusty; and rust cannot be a bluing for the geckoís skin. You claim to stuff rare sutures in fissure of the sun. You are the warmth of moon at night feast, trumpeting crystals of talons. 

More on pages 30-31 (Issue 4)

Merkabah: The Wind Over the Mountains

Sheikha A. - Pakistan


after Tafiyar Qaguwa: A Crabís Journey in Search of God by Umar Saleh Gwani (Stunned Collection) 


Wastage teaches us scraps are meaningful; 

we wipe plates with pieces of bread before setting  

them in a sink. Running with wolves could mean 

the same as salvaging grace. Our lessons become

More on page 32 (Issue 4)

Closed Gate Closed Gate
Poetry in Translation  

Autumn Day 

Rainer Maria Rilke - Austria

Translated from German by Birgit Bunzel


Lord: it is time. This summer was immense.

Unfold your shadow across the solar clocks,

and across the meadows, unleash the winds.


Command the last of fruits to fill to shine,

give them another two more southernly days.

Compel them toward completion and then chase

the final sweetness into heavy wine.  

More on page 5 (Issue 4)

In Paradise

Vladimir Nabokov - Russia

Translated from Russian by Vladimir Nabokov


My soul, beyond distant death

your image I see like this:

a provincial naturalist,

an eccentric lost in paradise.


There, in a glade, a wild angel slumbers,

a semi-pavonian creature.

Poke at it curiously

with your green umbrella,

More on pages 6-7 (Issue 4)

An Autumn Night On the River

Liu Dabai Ė China

Translated from Chinese by Sayed Gouda


The birds that return to their nests,

though exhausted,

always return toward the setting sun.

Their wings flap,

and drop the setting sun into the river;

the white-headed reed

turns into crimson red, too.

More on pages 8-9 (Issue 4)

Mail Kiss

Liu Dabai Ė China

Translated from Chinese by Sayed Gouda


Not that I cannot tear it with my fingers,

not that I cannot cut it with scissors,

but slowly,


and carefully I open the the lips of that purple


I know that inside the letterís lips

hides her secret kiss.

More on pages 8-9 (Issue 4)


Nazik Al-Malaeka Ė Iraq

Translated from Arabic by Sayed Gouda


Blow out the candle and leave us here, strangers.

We are two parts of the night. What is the meaning of the light?

Light falls on two mirages in the eveningís eyelid.

Light falls on some flinders of hope.

They are called Ďusí and I call them

Ďboredomí. Here, weíre like light:


More on pages 10-11 (Issue 4)

Closed Gate Closed Gate

No Touch

Marjan Strojan - Slovania

Translated from Slovanian by the author


Iím fed up with farewells. All those little

deaths time and time again: when you try

to touch them, they recoil like a small animal

that does not know you.

 More on pages 12-13 (Issue 4)

Elder in a Garden

Marjan Strojan - Slovania

Translated from Slovanian by the author


Truly, my heart stops whenever I see the garden again

and the elder flowering into the timeless night,

and the path which I knew runs across

the common but did not know

where it ends.

Beside the path grew coltsfoot, nettles, and cherries

washed by dew or by rain. If I looked I might

 More on pages 12-13 (Issue 4)

Evening Sun

Milovan Stefanovski - Republic of North Macedonia

Translated from Macedonian by the author

Do not look

at the evening sun

with its final beam

it can close your eyes

it can blind you

on its way down it can take you


 More on page 14 (Issue 4)

Ten Haikus

Kika Hotta - Japan

Translated from Japanese by the author


The desert is pregnant

her dunes

softly curved



I lie on sand

feeling its warmth Ė

the Earth rotates

 More on pages 16-17 (Issue 4)


Sarah Thilykou - Greece

Translated from Greek by YiorgosChouliaras



Open the window


It's the island



No man is an island,

they say, but

 More on pages 18:20 (Issue 4)

I am  Coming to You

Mend-Oyoo Gombojav - Mongolia

Translated  from Mongolian by  N. Enhkbayar


Traveling through time, in company with the sun, the moon,

Along the bumpy and winding roads left by old wise men,

Climbing up and down the high mountains and the hills,

Fording hundreds of rivers,

Although I do not know when we may meet,

 More on pages 21:23 (Issue 4)


Luca Benassi - Italy

Translated from Italian by the author


Salmon are to be waylaid

at the bottleneck of the river mouth,

when they are scared, cramming the water;

you have to let the net down where

the surface ripples with fins,

gills fumbling the desire

 More on page 24 (Issue 4)

Outside the Walls

Catherine Peteinari - Greece

Translated from Greek by YiorgosChouliaras


Propylaea Ė the definition of beauty

the appearance of the barrier inside and outside me


I create Ė

I resist against something

the air that envelopes my guts

retrieving memories and names

outside the limits of the wall

 More on pages 26-27 (Issue 4)

A Gazal

Rajesh Vyas Ė 'Miskeen'

Translated from Gujarati by Dileep Jhaveri


If you have just nothing, forsake it, and come over

If you have everything, renounce it and reveal


Where the rooms are illuminated by your name

I am that house, even if you do not come

More on pages 16-17 (Issue 3)

Dream of Memory

Alexey Filimonov - Russia

Translated from Russian by Molly Zuckerman and Madeline Tingle


At times nature smells of blood,

of dew and of this Warís death,

and dreams of unsolved pain   

grow through trees,

 More on page 14 (Issue 2)


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