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This is My Love.. This is My City.. (Part I) Posted by on Aug 14, 2013 in Arabic Language, Culture, Vocabulary

      In today’s post, I am going to present one of Nizar Qabbani’s great poems. The poem is entitled “This is my Love .. This is my City.. هــَـــذهِ هــِــى حــَــبــيـــبـــتـــى .. هــَـــذهِ هــِــى مـَــــديـــنــــتـــــى ”. Nizar wrote this poem in London in the summer of 1994. The poem is a bit long, so I will divide it on two separate sessions or two separate blogs. I did the English translation of the poem. I am sure you will enjoy it.

هــَـــذهِ هــِــى حــَــبــيـــبـــتـــى .. هــَـــذهِ هــِــى مـَــــديـــنــــتـــــى ..

This is My Love .. This is My City ..

 أَبــْـــحـــثُ عــَــن مـَــديـــنــــةٍ تـــُـــشـــبــهـــُـــنــَـــا

I look for a city that resembles us

شــِـــتــاؤهـــا يـــُـــشـــبــِـــهـــُـــنـــَــــا

Its winter resembles us

خــَـــريـــفـــُـــهــا يـــُـــشـــبــِـــهـــُـــنـــَــــا

Its autumn resembles us

هـــُـــدوءُهـــا يـــُـــشـــبــِـــهـــُـــنـــَــــا

Its quietness resembles us

جـــُـــنـــُـــونــُــهـــا يـــُـــشـــبــِـــهـــُـــنـــَــــا

Its madness resembles us

بــُـــروقــُـــهـــــا

Its lightning

رُعـــُــــودُهـــــا

Its thunders

أمـــْـــوَاجـــُــــهــــا تـــُـــشـــبــِـــهـــُـــنـــَــــا

Its waves resemble us

أبــْـــحــَــــثُ عــَــن مــَـــديــــنـــةٍ بـــِــلـــَــــوْنِ عــَـــيـــْــــنــَــــيـــْـــكِ

I look for a city with the colour of your eyes

و أحـــْـــزانـــِــــى أنـــــَـــــا

And (with the colour of) my sorrows.

أبــْـــحــَــــثُ عــَــن مــَـــديــــنـــةٍ

I look for a city

فــى آخـــِــــر الـــعــَــالـــَــــم

At the end of the world

لا نـــَــعـــْــــرِفُ فـــِــــيــــهــــَـــــا أحــَــــداً

Where we know nobody

و لــَــيــْــــسَ فــيـــهـــا أحـــَـــدٌ يــَـــعـــْــــرفـــُــــنـــَــا

And where nobody knows us

أمـــْـــطـــارُهـــَـــا تــُـــغــْـــرِقـــُــــنــــا , و ثــَـــلــجـــُـــهــــا يــَــحـــْـــرقـــُــــنــــا

Its rain drowns us and its snow burns us

عـــَـــن فــُـــنــــْـــدُقٍ نــَـــدخــُــــلــــُـــهُ فــى آخـــِـــرِ الــلـــيـــْـــلِ

(I look) for a hotel that we enter late at night

فـــَــــلا يــَـــســـْـــألُ عــن أســْـــمــَـــائــِـــنــــا

And it would not ask for our names

 أبــْـــحــَــــثُ عــَــن كــَــنــيــســـَـــةٍ صــَــغـــيـــرةٍ

I look for a small church

مــَـــفـــتـــُــــوحــَــة الأبـــْـــوابِ لـِـلــْــعـــُــــشــَّـــــاقِ

With doors open for lovers

لا تـــــســـْــــألـــنـــا عــن دِيـــنــِـــنـــَـــا

That wouldn’t ask about our religion

و مــَـــن يـــكـــونُ رَبـــُّــــنــَـــا ؟؟

And who is our God??

أبــْـــحــَــــثُ عــَــن مــَـــديــــنـــةٍ

I look for a city

طــَـــازَجــَـــةٌ كالــعــُـــشــْـــبِ فــى الـــبــَـــرِيـــَّــــة  

As fresh as grass in the wilderness

فــَــمــُــســْــتــَـــحــيــلٌ أن أحــِــبَّ اِمـــْـــرَأةً

As it is impossible for me to love a woman

فــى هــَـــامــِــش الــشـــِّـــعـــْــــر

On the margin of poetry

و لا فــى هــَــامــِـــش الـــحــُـــرِّيـــَّــــة

Nor on the margin of freedom

أبــْـــحــَــــثُ عــَــن مــَـــديــــنـــةٍ

I look for a city

ســَـــمــَـــاؤهــــَــــا مــَــفـــتــُـــوحــَـــة كــَــدَفـــتــر الــكِــتـــَـــابـــَـــة

With its skies open like a notebook

و بــَــحــْـــرُهــَــــا ســـَــفــيــنــةٌ تــَــدعــُـــوك للــرَّحــيـــل

And its sea like a ship that calls for departure

أبــْــحــَـــثُ عــن حــبــيــبـــةٍ تــَـــجــْــعــَــلــُـــنــِــى

I look for a love that makes me

أكــْـــتــَـــظــُّ بــالــشــِّــعـــْـــرِ .. كــَــبــُــســْـــتــَــــانٍ مــن الــنــَّــخــيـــل

Full of poetry .. like a garden of palm trees

………… to be continued

******

Check us back soon

Peace  ســــلام /Salam/

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About the Author: Fisal

Well, I was born near the city of Rasheed or Rosetta, Egypt. Yes, the city where the Rosetta Stone was discovered. It is a small city on the north of Egypt where the Nile meets the Mediterranean. I am a Teacher of EFL.