And the last one we'll read is a poem that, as I say,
was written after this book was published,
or after this book went to press.
But it's a poem that, from the moment he wrote it,
Taha basically handed it to me and said,
we will read this wherever we go.
And it's become a kind of a anthem.
And it's really had a kind of remarkable life,
and I think you'll see why.
[INAUDIBLE]
You know, I always dreamed that people would like poetry,
and poetry would attract people.
Well, [INAUDIBLE] like the people
attracted to Coca-Cola to be attracted to poetry.
To poetry.
But this evening, and the evening in Washington,
in [INAUDIBLE].
Dodge poetry festival, when we first read this poem.
We hope that more and more people like to hear poetry.
Thanks for coming, and listening.
"Aintiqam."
انتقام
أحيانًا أتمنى أن أبارز الشخص الذي قتل والدي
هدم بيتنا وشردني في بلاد الناس الضيقة
فإذا قتلني أكون قد ارتحت
وإن أجهزتُ عليه أكون قد انتقمت
لكن إذا تبين لي أثناء المبارزة
أن لغريمي أُمًّا تنتظر
أو أبًا يضع كف يمينه
على مكان القلب من صدره كلما تأخر ابنه ولو ربع ساعة
عن موعد عودته
فأنا عندها لن أقتله إذا تمكنت منه
كذلك أنا لن أفتك به
إذا ظهر لي أن له إخوة وأخوات يحبونه
ويديمون يتشوقون إليه.
أو إذا كان له زوجة ترحب به وأطفال لا يطيقون غيابه
ويفرحون بهداياه.
أو إذا كان له أصدقاء أو أقارب
جيران، معارف، زملاء سجن، زملاء مستشفى
رفاق مستشفى، خدناء مدرسة يسألون عنه
ويحرصون على تحيتهم
أما إذا كان وحيدًا مقطوعًا من شجرة
لا أب ولا أم، لا إخوة ولا أخوات، لا زوجة ولا أطفال
بدون أصدقاء ولا أقرباء ولا جيران
من غير معارف بلا زملاء أو رفقاء أو أخدان
فأنا لن أضيف إلى وحدته
لا عذاب موت ولا أسى فناء
بل سأكتفي بأن أغض الطرف عنه حين أمر به في الطريق
مقنعًا نفسي بأن الإهمال بحد ذاته
هو أيضًا نوع من أنواع الانتقام!
"Revenge."
"At times, I wish I could meet in a duel
the man who killed my father and razed our home, expelling me
into a narrow country.
And if he killed me, I'd rest at last.
And if I were ready, I would take my revenge.
But if it came to light when my rival appeared
that he had a mother waiting for him,
or a father who would put his right hand over the heart's
place in his chest whenever his son was late, even by just
a quarter hour for a meeting they'd set,
then I would not kill him, even if I could.
Likewise, I would not murder him if it were soon made clear
that he had a brother or sisters who loved him and constantly
longed to see him, or if he had a wife to greet him,
or children who couldn't bear his absence,
and whom his gifts would thrill.
Or if he had deep friends or companions, neighbors
he knew, or allies from prison, or a hospital,
or classmates from a school asking about him
and sending him regards.
But if he turned out to be on his own,
cut off like a branch from a tree
without a mother or father, with neither a brother and a sister,
wifeless, without a child and without kin or neighbors
or friends, colleagues or companions,
then I'd add not a thing to his pain within that loneliness.
Not the torment of death, and not the sorrow of passing away.
Instead, I'd be content to ignore him
when I passed him by on the street,
as I convinced myself that paying him
no attention in itself was a kind of revenge."
Thank you.
[APPLAUSE]
Thank you for coming.
[INAUDIBLE]
Thank you [? and you are listening intently ?]
to my poetry.
This makes me great hope that life better.
A good 10 times better than this.
To arrive, to see nice people [INAUDIBLE]..
And so what?
That's a plug for the book, I think.
OK?
Yeah.
Yeah, OK.
Frances, [INAUDIBLE].
[APPLAUSE]
[INAUDIBLE]
than before.
But otherwise, I will deal with it.
Thank you very much.
[INAUDIBLE]