Hussain Alwan Hussain
2012 / 2 / 12
By: Muwaffaq Muhammad (From: To be in Dust is Better than among the Savage)
Translated by Dr Hussain Alwan Hussain (2008)
In the freezer of the dead,
With a terrified eye,
He recognized the face of his brother.
He gazed in his pierced forehead,
And saw a burnt mother,
And a crow pecking up in his father s eye.
In the mosque, he prayed to God;
And froze the flesh of his brother:
Afraid of the stink of war,
And in mercy of the bird bleeding inside.
She brought him alone from the South;
In the graveyard, there was
A mound of old women with no plant;
Black are the coffins of the dead.
Have you ever seen tombs turned upside down?
Have you ever seen
A crowd of funerals weeping,
Hueing the wood of the coffin
With the missing of a mother:
Lapping near the grave her coffin,
Howling with a scattered heart -
"Here am I my son, to die with you"?
At the Imam s Shrine –
Where the killed run above the heads of the living –
There was a bunch of women,
Braving themselves to carry the coffin,
Asking the martyrs to give them a hand;
A minaret stooped its stature,
Opened the coffin,
Gazed upon the minced flesh,
And raised it to a frowning moon in the sky.
Seeing the blood, the moon cracked;
He prayed unto it "God is Greater",
And covered the corpse with light.
Rest in peace, lo neighbor:
Examine the Corpse coming to you,
He is in your custody this night;
So strangle him upon your hands
So that he may recognize after death his home,
And see the Mother who has raised him in love:
A blind heap made of grief and gloom.
Tell him to wipe Her eyes,
To snatch from Her her eyesight;
So that She can see his face
Engraved in clay and blood.
In the pan,
And in flames neighing with oil,
The shovel pours my heart
Whose beating lasted for fifty years
Of noisy, stagnant wars.
Are we still alive?
Yes indeed we are!
Residing in the Captives Suburb;
The Suburb of the Lost;
And the Suburb of the Martyrs.