Here lies Joannes of Epidamnus, the far-shining ornament of ever brilliant consuls who spread abroad the sweet light of the Muses, and more than others amplified the work of hospitality, having a hand that fed all, and alone among men knew not any measure to limit its gifts.
He ornamented his lofty consular car with the laws of his country, making bright the works of pure justice.
Ye gods! he did not live long, but at the age of only forty-two departed this life, regretted by all poets, whom he loved more than his own parents.
Sometimes The sky doesn’t draw its drapes As the first long, desolate night descends We are third-class patients Or, the less vulnerable We are the victims of wisdom The moment the window opens And the air pushes its way through Without appropriate exhalation We know now What the years have done to us The bed that has been vacant for years Of all the dead bodies and martyrs Must finally be left barren So it may stand tall And watch its soul infinitely fall Over strange arms. All I smell Is the stench of an iron Abandoned on run down clothes Until they caught fire And a wet circle And white teeth Undoubtedly unsmiling And dreams that die When there are no longer balconies to leave from And I have been writing poems for a while I don’t exactly know If this is my pain, or theirs.
Which should condemn me to this, my state. Why must I suffer this distress and grief? Was that, my defense of religion and country, a crime for which I should be unjustly condemned and exiled?
We present this work in honor of Coptic Christmas Day.
Nawal El Saadawi Egyptian 1931 – 2021
A ruler once said that he saw God. His rival retorted saying, ‘I saw God before you did.’ Another rival over power said, ‘But I saw Him before either of you.’ So they all fought together, Each saying that he had seen God before the other impostor. I said they were all impostors who have not seen God any of them. They asked, ‘Hasn’t anybody really seen God?’ I said, ‘I saw God in my childhood, my mother saw Him in her youth and my grandmother saw Him in her advanced years.’ They said, ‘Your words are heresy. God does not appear to women.’
We present this work in honor of the poet’s 125th birthday.
Ibrahim Nagi Egyptian 1898 – 1953
At last the cure, I bid farewell to pain, and welcome with a smile the days to come. Oblivion comes to me a kingly guest, with hands compassionate and blessed steps. My guest comes strongly on, folding the distances, the dark unknown. Proffering a cup that takes away old pain, and banishes all regrets. So drain it to the dregs and have no fear- For long you have suffered, your thirst your only drink. Oblivion now envelops me, and I thank God for its overwhelming flood, Surrendering to the waves which engulf me, happy to embrace a void without memories.
We present this work in honor of the 65th anniversary of the poet’s death.
Abdel Rahman Shokry Egyptian 1886 – 1958
Life is but a continual dying, goodness and pleasure are but borrowed. Would that I were like the flower whose life is but a summer; then I would fade before the afflictions of winter. To life with its pleasures, from me, one greeting; but ah, a thousand to peace-giving death ! Who will convey my greeting unto the dead? Peace be upon them… nay , upon me: For in their graves they have no need of mercy as I do in my life.
We present this work in honor of the 10th anniversary of the poet’s death.
Ahmed Fouad Negm Egyptian 1929 – 2013
Who are they and who are we? They are the princes and the Sultans They are the ones with wealth and power And we are the impoverished and deprived Use your mind, guess… Guess who is governing whom? Who are they and who are we? We are the constructing, we are the workers We are Al-Sunna, We are Al-Fard We are the people both height and breadth From our health, the land raises And by our sweat, the meadows turn green Use your mind, guess… Guess who serves whom? Who are they and who are we? They are the princes and the Sultans They are the mansions and the cars And the selected women Consumerist animals Their job is only to stuff their guts Use your mind, guess… Guess who is eating whom? Who are they and who are we? We are the war, its stones and fire We are the army liberating the land We are the martyrs Defeated or successful Use your mind, guess… Guess who is killing whom? Who are they and who are we? They are the princes and the Sultans They are mere images behind the music They are the men of politics Naturally, with blank brains But with colorful decorative images Use your mind, guess… Guess who is betraying whom? Who are they and who are we? They are the princes and the Sultans They wear the latest fashions But we live seven in a single room They eat beef and chicken And we eat nothing but beans They walk around in private planes We get crammed in buses Their lives are nice and flowery They’re one specie; we are another Use your mind, guess… Guess who will defeat whom?
As for my way in love, I have no way If I neglect my love for a day, then I have left my sect And if the thought of other than you occurs to me Inadvertantly, I would consider it as my apostasy You govern my life as you will, so do what you will with me, for I have ever only desired you…
We present this work in honor of the Egyptian holiday, Revolution Day.
Farouk Gouida Egyptian b. 1946
I’m a poet I’m still painting from bleeding wounds A new song I’m still building in the prisons of oppression Happy times I’m still writing Even though the letter kills me And throws me in front of people like stray melodies Or whenever appears before the eyes A stubborn wish A stray arrow glides into the night And brings it down… a martyr
Poets Corner 