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

نعمان إسماعيل عبد القادر - المغربPEOPLE OF THE TRAFFIC LIGHT

Naaman Ismael Abdulqader - Morocco

Translated by Hassan Sarsour


The road I use to take in my travel from my village to Nazareth is the shortest one. It only takes one hour or so.. Nevertheless, when taking this road you'll come across the Valley of A'ra, and you'll see several Arab villages adjacent to the Green Line. In addition, you will have to stop at traffic lights spread in road junctions, waiting for cars and travelers moving back and forth. There, your eyes will catch the sight of little boys of which some are less than eight years of old, with their rags , bale faces and innocent souls, bathing in a waterfall of burning sun rays, fighting their way valiantly between lines of cars, asking for help. When you give them something, they will pray for God to bless you, and thank you with a smile showing their content with the situation and their acceptance of the fate that neglected them, and gave its most attention to the sons and daughters of Jacob and Isaac . On the other hand , if you refuse to give them anything , they will leave you and go for another as to find something useful .Little boys under the harshness of life forcing them to be miserable and beggars . Fearing the victory of hunger , they surrendered to life lest they leave it .

One morning as I was traveling to Nazareth with my friend " Naief " , I decided to give something to every one I meet on my way .When I reached the road junction of

" Kufur Qarrea " I started scanning the place with my eyes . I found two little children . One of them was taking refuge in the shade of the traffic light while drinking water from a bottle that was in his right hand .. The other one was biting a candy that someone gave it to him as charity. The traffic light didn't give us time to stop and we were forced to proceed towards " Um Alfahm ".

Seeing the red light of the traffic light from distance we stopped .Little children approached us and I gave them enough money to buy a meal or two . A little girl stood behind . Her clothes were rags and her shoes were torn as if they were expired sixty years ago with her toes coming out from the sides . Without saying a word she looked at me with her sad and shy eyes which made me feel pity and sorrow . She mumbled few words of prayers and praises that she had learned by heart . There I remembered my little girl and her doll that she used to hug and kiss all the time .

- What's your name my little one ?

She answered with a fading and shy voice :

- Manal .

- Here take this please

She reached out her tiny hand and took the money after reciting some of her prayers and showing a smile that appeared on her dark mouth She almost flew out of joy with her gain and lavish fortune ...

" Naief " awoke and started bluntly rumbling :

  • Damn those fathers  they enjoy in their beds while planting in the wombs of their mothers human seeds without knowing the consequences After that you get miserable children , like these , that are stepped on like cockroaches by life in their chase after bread The don't learn . The don't smell the flavors of childhood . They are deprived of everything

  • " Naief " , I think they are from Jeneen and its camp May God help them .. In 1948 they were forced to leave their villages and cities and they are beggars just like gypsies " Naief " ! do you know that if the rich Arab people gave only one penny each month as a charity , you would never ever find a poor person in this nation Where are the alms ? Where is the oil? Where is the foreign aid ? Of course , all dried on the desert way   
    Things went fast at Nazareth and we headed back while complaining from the oppressive heat of July , the long distance and the short time . It seems as if the tragedy was roaming in the sky , waiting for us in contempt . It waited for the clock to reach two and thus forcing us to meet the little girl again Perhaps it was waiting for me so that it could surprise me with a shock that would never be cleared , even with the waters of Tiberias . Is it because I'm an emotional guy that gets excited vary fast , or because I cry in such situations ?? maybe ..

It is said that when a child dies , the world becomes sad , the sky feels pain , the fate cries out of regret , and the letters fall from the books out of anger ..  
Why doesn't the Earth shake when it hears the moaning of " Manal " as she lies on the sidewalk struggling against fate as to win her last seconds of life ? She wanted to cross the road and to catch up with her cousin but Fate was faster than her and it received her soul after a fast car had hit her People of the traffic light , with their sad looks , gathered at the scene . Passengers rushed spontaneously out of their cars in an attempt to lend a hand and help

  • Kids ! do you know her ?

Pointing at the child on my left they replied :

Yes , she is his cousin

Another added with a grievous voice :

Her father died five hears ago and her brother was arrested three years ago .. She came here to find her daily bread she's been with us only a week  
The body was removed and life returned to its regular course with the ambulance and its noise.

Overwhelmed withy the feelings bitterness and anger Naief said : 

Damn you life What daily bread these children pursue ? Oh humanity Alas  Where are you freedom ?? Oh , he who died and left Life for the miserable , weak and the hard workers alas .


Comments 发表评论 Commentaires

click here 按这里 cliquez ici


with us

Advertisement Price List

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