Syrian verses on Homs: poetry, nights and Revolution (by Tareq al Jabr, March 2013)






Yesterday, while I was having my morning coffee, I found this beautiful poetry about Homs posted on Facebook. It’s been written by my friend Tareq, born in the Golan Heights and raised in Damascus. I have tried to translate these lines into Italian – as English is not definitely the language I emotionally feel as mine. Unluckily I’ve never been gifted with translation skills, but I did my best to convey the incomparable Arabic emotionality, while avoiding a sterile literal translation. I hope not to have gone too beyond the meaning Tareq had in mind but, as he says, it’s just part of the interpretation game. I’d be happy to get any other translation of it. (Estella Carpi)


وخوف قذيفةٍ قادمة …
أذكر نبرة وجه صديقي: خذلنا الشمس بحمص ,
وهذا اليل عدوّ كلانا , فليس (اليوم) مكان رؤانا .
… فما بالهاون يُقتل قلبٌ
ولا للشعر يدٌ راجمة .
ليبقى أسيراً ,
فليس يموت ,
وليس يُميت ,
وليس يُخيف سوى ظالمه .
فنحن ننام بليل سوانا ,
وحمصه في ليلنا نائمة .

Con la paura di un’esplosione che si fa vicina…

Ricordo ancora l’espressione del volto del mio amico: abbiamo deluso il sole di Homs,

E questa notte è divenuto il mio e il tuo nemico, e così (oggi) non vi è più spazio per le nostre speranze.

Il cuore di arma non perisce…

e la Poesia offre i suoi palmi inoffensivi.

Per restare prigioniera,

non muore

né uccide

e non incute terrore se non al suo oppressore.

E non restiamo che noi a dormire nella notte.

E la sua Homs dorme, nella nostra notte.

(Tareq al Jabr)

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