Qasid
Abu
Lala Mahari,
The
renowned poet of Baghdad,
Lived
for decades in the splendid city of the Caliphs,
Enjoying
a life of luxury and delight;
He
sat at banquets with affluent and powerful people,
Debating
both the learned and the wise,
He
cherished and assessed his companions;
He
visited the lands of many a nation;
He
saw and studied the peoples and their laws.
And
his discerning soul, comprehending people, assessed and hated
Profoundly
man and his rules.
And
since he had no wife or children,
He
gave away his entire fortune to the poor,
Gathered
his caravan of camels, along with provisions and food,
And
one night, when Baghdad slept on the cypress-covered
Banks
of the Tigris –
He
departed from the city in secret…
First
Surah
And
Abu Lala’s caravan, gurgling softly like a spring,
Proceeded
serene in the sleepy night, with bells sweetly tinkling.
That
winding caravan appraised the road with measured strides,
And
the melodious chiming suffused the tranquil grounds.
With
ardent dreams of splendor, Baghdad slept in mellow restfulness,
In
the rosebushes, the canary sang tearful songs of love’s distress.
The
fountains chuckled with sprays of dazzling diamond cascades,
From
the caliphs’ gleaming mansions scents and kisses pervaded the glades.
The
jeweled caravans of stars wandered on stellar freeways,
And
the boundless skies echoed the harmonium of eternal stars’ rays.
The
wind whispered, with violets’ breath, tales of a thousand and one nights,
In
sweet sleep, palm tree and cypress swayed on the roadsides.
And
rolling along, the caravan rumbled forward with no backward glance,
The
unknown path with myriad lures, enticed Abu Lala, stroking his dalliance.
“Go
forth! Keep on going, my caravan, and walk till my days’ demise,”
Thus
spoke deep in his heart, Abu Mahari, the poet great and wise.
“Go
to the forlorn, desolate places, to the emerald vastness, free, pure and
forthright;
Soar
tireless toward the sun, and sear my heart in the sun’s heart.
“To
you, oh, my father’s crypt, my maternal crib, I offer no farewell,
My
soul is sore with eternal grief for paternal home and childhood’s pure spell.
“I
was too fond of all my peers, and all people hither and there; whereas of late,
My
love has turned to venomous viper, and my heart boils with toxic hate.
“Now,
I detest that which I loved, since what I discovered in the souls of men;
herewith,
In
the human soul, nasty and mean, I have counted a thousand outrages and much
filth.
“But
above all, I hate the thousand-and-first – the spirit’s ribald falsehood,
Which
adorns the face of man with the sacred halo of innocent sainthood.
“You,
human tongue, who with a veil infused with heavenly scent and radiance
Cover
the hell of man’s soul, have you ever spoken an honest sentence?
“Go
to the desert, my caravan, to the wild forsaken, flaming borders,
In
the company of beasts and rest there, under the bronzed, red boulders.
“Let
me set up my tent – let me set it up on nests of scorpions and snakes,
I
am a myriad times safer there, than among devious men with smiling faces.
“Or
near a comrade, on whose breast I gladly rested my head once,
A
comrade’s breast concealing the chasm of a fatal fall beneath a veil of lies.
“As
long as the sun keeps searing Sinai’s soaring summits,
And
the desert’s yellow layers form whirlpools as do mighty swells:
“I
have no wish to break bread at their table, or offer humans my greeting,
I
rather share a meal with wild beasts, or receive a hyena’s welcoming.
“And
may predators tear me apart, flaming winds roar at me and burn –
And
thus, till the end of my days, my caravan, keep going, go beyond return…”
End
of First Surah…
AVEDIQ ISAHAKIAN
Translated
by TATUL SONENTZ
