Four Poems
Mahmud al-Braykan
Tr. Sinan Antoon
Behind the Glass
The sound is inaudible inside
But the scene is clear through the window
A man and a child
The man is tired and troubled
His hair almost gray
The child, less than ten,
stands, stone-faced
gazing at a fixed point
The man speaks gently and points fervently
drawing arches in the air
His whole body leans toward the child
again and again
The child doesn’t move
Barely says anything
When the man puts his hand on his shoulder
He is startled, his look terrified
The man speaks with hopelessness
Is it an admission of a mistake? Seeking forgiveness?
Elucidating a situation children don’t understand?
An attempt to convince is blocked by anger?
Extracting a secret?
The light is faint inside the room
But enough to highlight features
Through the cold glass the scene continues
A man is trying to reach his son’s heart
But he can’t
The Lions’ Dream
The lions are restless behind bars
Looking away when spectators look
They walk around
lie down in boredom
in their narrow cages
They dream of homelands
Vast prairies
Antelopes running away
Joyful cubs
playing with their own tales
When lumps of meat are thrown before them
The lions remember their lost pleasure
The pleasure of preying
Another City
There is another city
beyond the city with the hundred faces
There is another city
beyond the one where high buildings glisten
where squares turn and stores are packed
There is a city of ghosts and echoes
leafing through the memories of its dead men
Still
There is another city
beyond the city of colors and shapes
of noise and motion
There is another city
watching the footsteps of the stranger
who is you
An Imaginary City
I entered it in one of my travels
A silent city
No trace of the living
Doors shut
The wind playing in its squares
But its window lights
Were on all night
Who switches them on?
I saw roses in the gardens
Their necks tilted
A children’s playground
In ruins
I knocked at doors
I called out
Have they all died?
Did they depart?
What magic spell turned them into invisible beings?
. . .
Suddenly I saw the shadow of a woman
on a marble platform
fidgeting slowly
trying to wake up
I said: “Eve,
do you know who I am?
Adam”
But she didn’t understand the language
[Mahmud al-Braykan (Basra, Iraq, 1931-2002) was one of the pioneers of modern Iraqi poetry. Translated from the Arabic by Sinan Antoon]