OK, we'll read a couple of very short poems to--
from a sequence called "Twigs."
[? To start with that ?].
Because connected with the airport.
أفضل من دون ذلك.
We have this fight every time we read.
I should have known not to connect these two poems.
My wife told me before, I got to say,
don't read this poem after that poem.
He's going to say, [? don't ?] connect them.
أفضل من دون ذلك؟ صحيح.
Some poems are better than others,
and they sometimes work better together.
Anyway, that's a different poem altogether.
That's a different poem--
ثلاث قصائد مختلفة.
OK.
You choose.
I choose.
"Twigs."
This is a sequence of short poems
that can work together or apart.
And one of the poems--
I think will be just two or three.
They're very, very short.
One of the poems was after Yitzhak Rabin was assassinated
in-- what year would that be?
'94, was it?
Five-- 1995.
The year after the--
halving a very hard time finding the poem, unusually.
One second.
OK.
After Rabin was assassinated, it was sort of-- it
was a bit like the JFK assassination
here in this strange way.
It brought all sorts of people together
in Israel, people that are not used to coming together.
And we'll wait for the satellite to pass.
So after Rabin was assassinated, it
was this very intense period of national mourning.
And then, I guess it was the first year
anniversary of the assassination,
there was a rally in the main square in Tel Aviv, which
is now named after Rabin.
And it was televised on national TV, which in those days,
still was--
there weren't this proliferation of cable channels.
So basically the entire country watched this rally.
And the emcee of the rally was a kind
of Jay Leno like figure in Israel.
He was a very, very popular TV personality.
A little slick, sort of gigolo like.
But he's somebody that was very--
that would draw-- they felt this was the person who somehow
would bring the entire country around his ridiculous
personality.
And nine-- and we were watching, and 9 o'clock at night, he
sort of stopped the proceedings and said
that he wanted to read a poem.
You can imagine, well, there's the bust of Robert Frost here.
Read a poem at JFK's inauguration.
I guess Clinton had an Arkansan poet read.
But it's hard to imagine an American equivalent
of a national event which is--
which is stopped to introduce a poem in the middle of it.
And so this guy said he wants to read a poem,
and he wants to read a poem by a man named Taha Muhammad Ali.
Which, given the fact that the Jewish prime minister
of the state of Israel had just been, or had recently
been assassinated, that in many ways, this was--
I don't even like to use the words,
but this was a kind of Zionist event
in that it's a state event marking some sort of loss
for the state.
And this guy chose to read a poem by a Palestinian citizen
of Israel, whom the vast majority of the audience,
you can be sure-- first of all, the vast majority audience
didn't know who most poets were.
But in Israel people do know who poets are,
but they certainly didn't know the name Taha Muhammad Ali.
And the power of this name coming out.
An Arab name in this, the heart of this occasion
really is a bit hard to describe.
And then he read one of the poems, the last poem.
We'll read three poems from this poem "Twigs."
The last one we'll read is the one
that he read then to the entire country.
So we'll read two poems from it first, and then that one.
I'm going to have Taha sit for this.
[INAUDIBLE]
OK, he'll read the short one, then I'll read the translation.
You can sit.
You can sit tight.
Because there is music here.
Oh, OK.
There's music in the poem that demands I understand.
Whatever that means.
أماليد
لا الموسيقى
ولا الشهرةُ والثروةُ
ولا حتى الشعر نفسه
بِمُستطيعٍ أن يعزّيني عن قِصَرِ عُمرِ الإنسان
وعن أن "الملك لير" ثمانون صفحة وتنتهي
وعن محضِ التصوّر: أن المرْءَ قد يُرْزَأُ بابنٍ عاقْ!
"Neither music, fame, nor wealth, not even poetry itself,
could provide consolation for life's brevity, or the fact
that King Lear is a mere 80 pages long--
Only.
And comes to an end.
And for the thought that one might suffer greatly
on account of a rebellious child."
[SIDE CONVERSATION]
وهكذا استغرقتُ ستّينَ سنةً كاملةْ
حتى أدركتُ: أن الماءَ ألذُّ الأشرِبةْ
وأن الخبزَ من الأطعِمَةِ أشهاها
وأن لا قيمةَ حقيقية لأي فنٍ إلا إذا أدخلَ البهجةَ إلى قلبِ الإنسان!
"And so it has taken me all of 60 years
to understand that water is the finest drink, and bread
the most delicious food.
And that art is worthless unless it plants a measure of splendor
in people's hearts."
In this tiny poem, [? well ?] it have been critical look
for [? police ?] and army and water at the [INAUDIBLE]..
Also, maybe it's nice, but these [? at ?] the [? bridge ?]
to say the last one.
That art have to give some joy to people.
Without joy, no value to art.
بعد أن نموتْ
ويُسدلٌ القلبُ المُتعبُ أجفانَه الأخيرة
على كل ما فعلناه
على كل ما تمنّيناه
على كل ما أحسسنا به تشوقنا إليه
ستكون الكراهيةُ أوّلَ ما يتعفّنُ فينا!
And this is the one that was read at that rally.
"After we die, and the weary heart has lowered
its final eyelid on all that we've done,
and all that we've longed for, and all that we've dreamed of,
all we've desired or felt. Hate will be the first thing
to putrefy within us."
And [INAUDIBLE] about the poem.
[INTERPOSING VOICES]
He insists he wants to read the poem that I just told him
I didn't think we should read.
But OK.
We put a little space between it and the other poem,
and we'll see what happens.
I'll find it.
[SIDE CONVERSATION]
This is because you're 780 years old.
I am sick of talking.
And my wife, we didn't have children.
Where's the wife's control for the father.
Where's the remote control to turn your father off?
There we go, you see [INAUDIBLE]..
A different poem.
Which one are you talking about?
This one, yeah?
فيما مضى كنت أرى في الحُلم أنك قادمة
فيما مضى كنت أرى في الحُلم أنك راحلة
فيخنقني الأسى
ولأن ذلك كان حلمًا كنت أستيقظ فأفرح ويملأ القمح الظهيرة
فأنتِ كنتِ الأسى وأنتِ كنتِ الفرح
أما الآن فإنني أحلم أنك قادمة!
فأفرح وأستيقظ لأدرك أن ذلك كان حلمًا
فيخنقني الأسى ويملأ الشوق الغسق!
"The Dream."
"Once, I'd see you departing in the dream,
and sorrow would take hold in my heart.
And because it was only a dream, I'd wake,
and joy would fill me.
And fields of wheat would fill the day.
You were that sorrow, and you were that joy.
But now I dream you're approaching,
and joy comes through me.
And I wake to discover it was only a dream,
and sorrow wells up in my throat and dusk
is covered with thorns."