A Translation of Mozafar Al Nawab’s poem “in the old bar”

Posted on January 15, 2011 by Syriapath.
Categories: poetry.

“In the old bar” is a powerful masterpiece by the Iraqi born contemporary Arab Poet and political activist Mozafar Al Nawab.
Not just a searing indictment of the decadence and decay of Arab society, but also a strong statement against the current political climate of repression and corruption.
Several themes are apparent in this poem, and indeed in a lot of Mozafar’s work. Booze, women (usually whores) and corrupt leaders all feature frequently, as do unflattering comparisons between them.
the free flowing style of Mozafar is interspersed with powerful imagery, and sometimes even appears to enter a very subjective semi dream-like state, transcending  reality, only to be swiftly brought back down to earth again in the next verse, sometimes by use of coarse, even “rude” language.
The poet himself, often improvises and changes words during recitals, and doesn’t stick to any so called “official” versions of his own poems.
Combine all these factors and translating becomes a very daunting task, whether it’s avoiding literal translation, or correctly conveying imagery and allegory, or even defining certain subjective cultural connotations and attempting to portray them as closely as possible to the English reader.
Daunting as it is, it’s also a worthwhile and satisfying challenge.

I will be the first to admit that I may have made mistakes, and I readily welcome all constructive criticism.
Feel free to use or publish this translation, but please credit me with it. Thank you, and I hope you enjoy it.

Imad E Ajam

In the Old Bar

The bar is not far away, no matter
you’re like a sponge
sucking up all the bars, never getting drunk
what remains of the night, measured in the drunkard’s cup, saddens you
why did they leave her? Were they lovers!
were they consenting homosexuals like their leader’s summits?(*1)
Was she a whore, with no one in this filthy world?

And I whispered warmly into her cold lungs ….
does the cold kill you?
The half-warmth kills me, and the half-positions too
my lady, we are all whores like you
oppression fornicates with us, as does false religion, and false thought,
and false bread
and slogans ….and the color of blood, falsified grey even in funeral rites
and all the people, or most of the people, agree …. that the ruler is not one-eyed*2

my lady, how can a man maintain his honour
whilst the security services’ hands probe everywhere
and yet worse is to come,
we’re put in the blender, to extract oil

cheers …. cheers my lady
only your mortal flesh has been corrupted
as some sell it all, green or barren,(*3)
and stand up for everyone else’s causes
but flee from their own
I will piss on him and drink, then piss on him and drink
then you’ll piss on him and we’ll drink(*4)

the bar’s overcrowded by a generation you don’t know
a country you don’t know
language ….chatter, things you don’t know
except for booze, after the first glass it takes good care of you
warms your cold legs
and you don’t know where you met, or when
your head deliriously slumps into your hands
something hurts, like the ringing of silence
the silence becomes a part of your delusions

you stare at all of life’s cups, they are empty!?
The waiter has put out the lights, several times, for you to leave
Oh how you love booze …. Arabic! and the world…
to balance between passion and pomegranates….(*5)

“take this glass and leave your enchanted bar” (*6)
waiter, don’t get angry, for the lover is high
fill it, till it spills over the brown wood
do you know what that slab is for? for booze …
that other for a coffin, yet another for a notice board
fill it openly, sir
I’m not leaving your great bar until I’m drunk and high
the smallest bit of creation gets me drunk, what of mankind?
O God almighty, I can accept anything … except for humiliation
and for my heart to be caged, at the sultan’s palace
and I’m satisfied for my share of this world to be like a bird’s
But O lord, even birds have homelands
to which they return
but me, I’m still in flight
for my homeland, from ocean to ocean
is a series of adjacent jails
with jailers holding hands(*7)

*1 it is meant to be derogatory, homosexuality is a taboo in Middle Eastern culture, and calling someone gay is an insult
*2 This is probably an allusion to the “elections” frequently held in the region, where the outcome is 99% in favor of the incumbent
*3 green and barren (akhdar wal yabes) is a term in Arabic which closely resembles the English term “everything but the kitchen sink”, or “everything that wasn’t bolted down”, but I’ve kept the more literal translation here as it’s easy to surmise the meaning from it
*4 you, feminine personal pronoun
*5 pomegranate is a sensual fruit in eastern culture, here perhaps alluding to a woman’s body, or paradise or both
*6 here, the waiter is addressing the drunk poet
*7  as in a human chain of jailers, perhaps a cynical twist on protests involving human chains

See a video of the poet reciting this poem at:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yCqahdR9NLU

See more of Mozafar’s poems (in Arabic) at:

http://www.adab.com/modules.php?name=Sh3er&doWhat=lsq&shid=323&start=0

The original text of the poem, in Arabic:

في الحانة القديمة

المشربُ ليس بعيداً

ما جدوى ذلكَ، فأنتَ كما الاسفنجةِ

تمتصُ الحاناتِ ولا تسكر

يحزنُكَ المتبقي من عمرِ الليلِ بكاساتِ الثَملينَ

لِماذا تَركوها ؟ هل كانوا عشاقاً !

هل كانو لوطيين بمحضِ إرادَتِهمْ كلقاءاتِ القمة؟

هل كانت بغي ليس لها أحد في هذي الدنيا الرثة؟

وَهَمستَ بدفء برئتيها الباردتين…

أيقتلكِ البردُ ؟

انا …. يقتلني نِصفُ الدفئِ.. وَنِصفُ المَوقِفِ اكثر

سيدتي نحن بغايا مثلكِ….

يزني القهر بنا..والدينُ الكاذِبُ.. والفكرُ الكاذبُ ..

والخبزُ الكاذبُ ..

والأشعارْ ولونُ الدَمِِ يُزَوَّرُ حتى في التَأبينِ رَمادِياً

ويوافقُ كلُّ الشَّعبِ أو الشَّعبُ وَلَيسَ الحَاكِمُ اعْوَر

سيدتي كيفَ يَكونُ الانسانُ شريفاً

وجهازُ الأمنِ يَمُدُ يَديهِ بِكُلِّ مَكانٍ

والقادم أخطر

نوضعُ في العصارَةِ كي يَخْرُجَ منا النفطْ

نخبك …. نخبك سيدتي

لمْ يَتَلَوَّثْ مِنْكِ سِوى اللَّحْمِ الفَاني

فالبعضُ يَبيعُ اليَابِسَ والأخضر

ويدافِعُ عَنْ كُلِّ قَضايا الكَوْنِ

وَيَهْرَبُ مِنْ وَجهِ قَضِيَّتِهِ

سَأبولُ عَليهِ وأسكرْ …. ثُمَّ أبولُ عَليهِ وَأَسكر

ثُمَّ تَبولينَ عليهِ ونسكرْ

المشربُ غَصَّ بجيلٍ لا تَعرِفُهُ.. بَلَدٍ لا تَعرِفُهُ

لغةٍ.. ثرثرةٍ.. وأمورٍ لا تَعرِفُها

إلا الخَمْرَةُ؛ بَعدَ الكأسِ الأول تَهْتَمُ بِأَمْرِكَ

تُدّفِئ ُ ساقيكَ البارِدَتينْ

ولا تَعْرِفُ أينَ تَعَرَّفتَ عليها أيُّ زَمانْ

يَهْذي رأسُكَ بينَ يَديكَ

شيءٍ يوجعُ مثلَ طنينِ الصَمّتْ

يشارِكُكَ الصمتُ كذلِكَ بالهذيان…

وَتُحَدِّقُ في كُلِّ قَناني العُمرِ لَقَدْ فَرَغَتْ؟!

والنادِلُ أَطْفَأَ ضَوْءَ الحَانَةِ عِدَّةَ مَراتٍ لِتُغادِرَ

كَمْ أَنْتَ تُحِبُ الخَمْرَةَ…. وَاللُّغَةَ العَرَبِيَّةَ…… وَالدُنيا

لِتُوَازِنَ بَينَ العِشْقِ وَبَينَ الرُمْانْ

هاذي الكأسُ وَأترُكُ حانَتِكَ المَسحورَةَ ..يا نادِلُ

لا تَغضَبْ… فالعاشِقُ نَشّوَانْ

إمْلأها حَتى تَتَفايَضَ فَوْقَ الخَشَبِ البُّنِّيِ

فَما أدراكَ لمِاذا هَذي اللوحةُ .. للخَمْرِ…

وَتِلّكَ لِصُنْعِ النَعْشِ.. وأُخْرى للإعلانْ…..

أملأها عَلَنا يَا مولايَ

فَما أخرُجُ مِنْ حانَتِكَ الكُبرى إلا مُنتشئً سَكْرَانْ

أصغَرُ شيءٍ يُسْكُرُني في الخَلْقِ فَكَيّفَ الإنسانْ؟

سُبحانَكَ كُلُّ الأشّيَاءُ رَضيتُ سِوى الذُّلْ

وَأنْ يُوضَعَ قَلبِيَ في قَفَصٍ في بَيْتِ السُلطانْ

وَقَنِعْتُ يَكونُ نَصيبي في الدُنيا.. كَنَصيبِ الطيرْ

ولكنْ سُبحانَكَ حتى الطيرُ لها أوطانْ

وتَعوْدُ إليها….وأنا ما زِلّتُ أَطير…

فهذا الوَّطَنُ المُّمّتَدُ مِنَ البَحْرِ إلى البَحْر

سُجُوْنٌ مُتَلاصِقَة..

سَجانٌ يُمْسِكُ سَجان…

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