سائليني - Ask Me [ Not Precisely ] - By Said Aql

You might say alot about Said Aql, you might call him racist, you can call him many things.. but you have to admit, There aren't many Arabic poets with his creativity and ability to 'craft'.

I remember a university professor referring to his poetry as 'Sculpting', and till now, this is the word that i think most describes his poetry.. His poems - as he made it clear in one - are like marble statues.. Fairooz sang many beautiful poems (much more than i can mention here) but I have always thought that this one specifically was miraculous [this is the word to describe a 'special' Fairooz song] ..

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Translation of the lines in bold [very poor translation]:

Ask me how, when i scented my regards,

roses became jealous, and lavenders became sick ..

Your banks rested .. in my mind,

and your birds hid .. in my thoughts and flew ..

If i had to bottle my poetry in intoxication,

you would be the flow .. and the soft laughters ..

(...)

Your people, History is what they left behind [ part of the beauty here is the exact organization of words in arabic, which is not really possible in English] ..

Their mention, is an honor, hanging on the collar of time!

(...)

I am not a lone singer if I say ...

wounds are pleasures, if with the hymns of birds ,

For me its enough .. that I come from a mountain ..

that is between god and earth , a dialogue !

[listening to the song will give you a new level of appreciation for this poem]

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سائليني
شعر: سعيد عقل غناء: فيروز ألحان: الأخوين رحباني


سائليني، حينَ عطّرْتُ السّلامْ،
كيفَ غارَ الوردُ واعتلَّ الخُزامْ

وأنا لو رُحْتُ أستَرْضي الشَّذا
لانثـنى لُبنانُ عِطْـراً يا شَـآمْ

ضفّتاكِ ارتاحَتا في خاطِـري
و احتمى طيرُكِ في الظّنِّ وَحَامْ

نُقلةٌ في الـزَّهـرِ أم عندَلَـةٌ
أنـتِ في الصَّحوِ وتصفيقُ يَمَامْ

أنا إن أودعْتُ شِعْـري سَكرَةً
كنتِ أنتِ السَّكبَ أو كُنتِ المُدامْ

ردَّ لي من صَبوتي يا بَـرَدَى

ذِكـرَياتٍ زُرْنَ في ليَّا قَــوَامْ

ليلةَ ارتـاحَ لنا الحَـورُ فلا
غُصـنٌ إلا شَـجٍ أو مُسـتهامْ

وَجِعَتْ صَفصَافـةٌ من حُزنِها
و عَرَى أغصَانَها الخُضرَ سَقامْ

تقـفُ النجمةُ عَـن دورتِـها
عنـدَ ثغـرينِ وينهارُ الظـلامْ

ظمئَ الشَّرقُ فيا شـامُ اسكُبي
واملأي الكأسَ لهُ حتّى الجَـمَام

أهـلكِ التّاريـخُ من فُضْلَتِهم
ذِكرُهم في عُروةِ الدَّهرِ وِسَـامْ

أمَـويُّـونَ، فإنْ ضِقْـتِ بهم
ألحقـوا الدُنيا بِبُسـتانِ هِشَـامْ

أنا لسـتُ الغَـرْدَ الفَـرْدَ إذا
قلتُ طاب الجرحُ في شجوِ الحمامْ

أنا حَسْـبي أنّني مِن جَـبَـلٍ
هـو بيـن الله والأرضِ كـلامْ

Too Soon Old, Too Late Smart - By: Gordon Livingston

We always seem to complain about this ..

Dr. Livingston is a practicing psychiatrist since 1967. He is a father who lost two sons, one to suicide and the other to cancer. This element adds both depth and a bit of subjectivity to his writing [writing is not writing without subjectivity].

The book at hand is structured in the form of 30 tips that he observed through his own experience, and interaction with patients. The ideas present, even if debatable and many of them can be easily refuted, evoke thinking about certain aspects about human relationships and human behavior that remain unnoticed.

Interestings:

• Its difficult to remove by logic an idea not placed there by logic in the first place
• Only bad things happen quickly [ so live with it, damn it!! ]
• There is nothing more pointless, or common, than doing the same thing and expecting different results [ reminds of Einsteins statement that its wierd when we try to solve the problem using the same resources and abilities that made us fall into it in the first place ]
• We are all prone to the myth of the perfect stranger
• NOBODY LIKES TO BE TOLD WHAT TO DO [ yes , not even your kids ]
• The only real paradises are those we have lost

Some of the thoughts are overly simplistic, some are not original, others are deep, but in the end it makes sense at least to take a look at a summary of his life’s experience. Even at the evaluation level, it helps to read these thoughts as they can broaden one’s perspective.

One might be able to complain that there is not enough positivity or energy in this book, but remember that the writer doesnt believe in god, and this seems to have case a significant shadow on his writings overall [especially when coupled with the loss of his sons]..

I don't regret reading it .. much much more than what i can say about edward de bono's H+ [I just saw that book on the shelf and it made me angry .. again]..

نشيد الجبار - The Song of the Titan (Also: Thus Sang Prometheus)

This is the 'song of the titan'.. A poem very much descriptive of the feelings of a person constantly feeling attacked and let down by life..who refuses but to fall without a strong struggle.. Typical of 'Abul Qasem Al Shabi'.. One of the remarkable arab poets of the beginning of the century .. Tunisian in nationality, Died very young at the age of 25.

Prometheus is the titan who 'defied the gods' ( especially Mr. Zeus ) and gave humans the fire.. Zeus didnt like this act, and punished Prometheus severely and eternally .. A vulture will eat his liver all day, and it will regenerate itself at night for prometheus to endure this pain again and again .. hercules later on freed him ..

There is a strong will for life in this poem .. here is a translation of some of the lines :

I will live .. Disregarding sickness and foes .. Like an eagle on the highest cliff,

Looking at the shining sun .. mocking clounds and rain and storms ..

Walking in the land of feelings dreaming .. singing .. and this is the happiness of poets

Listening to the divine voice .. awaking in my heart .. the dead voices of the past ..

and facing fate that doesnt stop .. fighting my hopes with all challenges,

"The burning flames in my heart .. wont be put off by waves of sadness, or storms of trouble..

Try to break my heart as you want .. for it will be like a solid rock ..

Living as a giant .. always looking forward .. to the beautiful far dawn ..

Walking with a dreaming spirit .. shining through the darkness of pain and sickness,

Light in my heart, in all my feelings .. why should i fear the night ..

I am the flute whose tunes dont stop .... as long as he is with the living ..

.. If my life ends .. and my days are gone .. and my voice is silenced by the end ..

and the flame of the universe in my heart dies .. which had lived like a red tourch ..

Then i'm glad to be moving .. from the world of hate and sin ..

To dissolve in the beauty of non-ending beauty .. and drink from the well of light ..

I will say to those who wanted to kill me ..

and saw my still shadow on thorns .. Imagining my blood is gone ..

Hammers will not destroy my shoulders .. fire will not eat my body ..

so throw grass into the fire .. and play - you kids - under MY sky ..

I will from above tell you .. with the sun and the nice dawn in front of me ..

HE WHOSE HEART SPEAKS THE LANGUAGE OF DIVINE REVELATION .. CAN NOT PAY ATTENTION TO THE STONES OF THE STRAY

نشيد الجبار - لأبي القاسم الشابي

سَأعيشُ رَغْـمَ الـدَّاءِ والأَعـداءِ ............... كالنَّسْـر فـوقَ القِمَّـةِ الشَّمَّـاءِ

أرْنُو إلى الشَّمْسِ المُضِيئةِ هازِئـاً ............ بالسُّحْـبِ والأَمطـارِ والأَنـواءِ

لا أرْمقُ الظِّلَّ الكئيـبَ ولا أرَى ................. مَا فـي قَـرارِ الهُـوَّةِ السَّـوداءِ

وأَسيرُ في دُنيا المَشَاعـرِ حالِمـاً ............... غَرِداً وتلـكَ سَعـادةُ الشعَـراء

ِأُصْغي لمُوسيقى الحَياةِ وَوَحْيِهـا ............ وأذيبُ روحَ الكَوْنِ فـي إنْشَائـي

وأُصيخُ للصَّوتِ الإِلهـيِّ الَّـذي ................... يُحْيـي بقلبـي مَيِّـتَ الأَصْـداءِ

وأقـولُ للقَـدَرِ الَّـذي لا ينثنـي .................... عَنْ حَـرْبِ آمالـي بكـلِّ بَـلاءِ

لا يُطْفِئُ اللَّهبَ المؤجَّجَ في دمـي ........ موجُ الأسى وعواصـفُ الأَزراءِ

فاهدمْ فؤادي ما استطعـتَ فانَّـهُ ........... سيكون مثلَ الصَّخـرة الصَّمَّـاءِ

لا يعرفُ الشَّكوى الذليلَة والبكـا ........... وضراعَة الأَطفـالِ والضّعفـاءِ

ويعيـشُ جبَّـاراً يحـدِّق دائمـاً ............... بالفجر بالفجـرِ الجميـلِ النَّائـي

إِملأْ طريقي بالمخاوفِ والدُّجـى ......... وزوابـعِ الأَشـواكِ والحصبـاءِ

وانْشر عليه الرُّعب واثـر فوقـه .... رُجُمَ الرَّدى وصواعـقَ البأسـاءِ

سَأَظلُّ أمشي رغمَ ذلـك عازفـاً ............... قيثارتـي مترنِّـمـاً بغنـائـي

أَمشـي بـروحٍ حالـمٍ متَوَهِّـجٍ ................ فــي ظُلـمـةِ الآلامِ والأَدواءِ

النُّور في قلبي وبيـنَ جوانحـي ...... فَعَلامَ أخشى السَّيرَ فـي الظلمـاءِ

إنِّي أنا النَّـايُ الَّـذي لا تنتهـي .............. أنغامُـهُ مـا دام فـي الأَحيـاءِ

وأنا الخِضَمُّ الرحْبُ ليس تزيـدُهُ .............. إلاَّ حيـاةً سَـطْـوةُ الأَنــواءِ

أمَّا إِذا خمدت حياتـي وانقضـى ......... عُمُري وأخرسَتِ المنيَّـةُ نائـي

وخبا لهيبُ الكون في قلبي الَّـذي ...... قد عاش مِثْلَ الشُّعْلَـةِ الحمـراءِ

فأنـا السَّعيـد بأنَّنـي مُتـحـوِّلٌ ................. عـن عالـمِ الآثـامِ والبغضـاءِ

لأذوبَ في فجر الجمال السرمديِّ ......... وأرتوي مـن مَنْهَـلِ الأَضـواءِ

وأَقولُ للجَمْـعِ الَّذيـن تجشَّمـوا ................ هَدْمي وودُّوا لـو يخـرُّ بنائـي

ورأوْا على الأَشواكِ ظلِّيَ هامِـداً ............. فتخيَّلـوا أَنِّـي قضيْـتُ ذَمائـي

وغدوْا يَشُبُّون اللَّهيبَ بكـلِّ مـا ............. وجدوا ليشـوُوا فوقَـهُ أشلائـي

ومضَوْا يَمُدُّونَ الخُـوَانَ ليأكلـوا .......... لحمي ويرتشفـوا عليـه دِمائـي

إنِّي أقولُ لهمْ ووجهـي مُشـرقٌ .......... وعلى شفاهـي بَسْمَـةُ استهـزاءِ

إنَّ المعـاوِلَ لا تَهُـدُّ مناكـبـي ................. والنَّارَ لا تأتي علـى أعضائـي

فارموا إلى النَّار الحشائشَ والعبوا ..... يا مَعْشَرَ الأَطفالِ تحـتَ سَمائـي

وإذا تمرَّدتِ العَواصفُ وانتشـى ............. بالهـولِ قلْـبُ القبَّـةِ الزَّرقـاءِ

ورأيتمونـي طائـراً مترنِّـمـاً .............. فوقَ الزَّوابعِ في الفَضاءِ النَّائـي

فارموا على ظلِّي الحجارةَ واختفوا ...... خَوْفَ الرِّياحِ الْهـوجِ والأَنـواءِ

وهناكَ في أمنِ البيوتِ تطارحـوا ............ غَـثَّ الحديـثِ ومـيِّـتَ الآراءِ

وترنَّمـوا مـا شئتـمُو بِشَتَائمـي ............. وتجاهَـروا مـا شئتـمُو بعِدائـي

أمَّا أنـا فأُجيبكـمْ مِـنْ فوقكـمْ .......... والشَّمسُ والشَّفقُ الجميـل إزائـي

مَنْ جَاشَ بالوحي المقـدَّسِ قلبُـه ............. لـم يحتفـل بحِجَـارةِ الفلـتـاءِ

"The Last Lecture" By Randy Pausch

This book is something to consider... He knows he's dying very soon, and he's trying to leave something for the world and his children .. dont we all need to leave that legacy?

This can be considered an inspiring book in terms of the idea behind it. Leaving a Legacy and making sure there is enough of his experience left for his children and others .. as well as transferring values and concepts he hold dear after his death .. Immortalizing some of the landmarks of his life .. Randy didnt create a literary miracle or original advice .. but i dont think he was trying to .. afterall, he clearly says .. " I LIKE CLICHES " ... and he could be very right about that, among other things.
Alot of the book's value comes from a central hidden idea .. the subjectivity of everyone's achievements and life path ..more obviously the strong relation with childhood dreams .. and this is again indirectly stressed through the writers exaggeration on certain specifics that might not be the same for everyone ... A head fake is transferring many of the values instilled in him by his parents...

Touching .. Warm .. Subjective ..

عن الوطن..والفوضى..و"الغضب

تطالعنا اسبوعيا تقريبا في جريدة الاخبار مقالات بهلوانية غاضبة واي غضب.. وهي وان حملت الكثير من الطرافة فانها تذهب بعيدا جدا في الاقذاع والاهانات بحق "الوطن اللبناني" .. وبالتالي الهوية اللبنانية, وحتما حاملي هذه الهوية المقتنعين بها!
هنا لا بد من قول كلمة توضح و تشرح, وغريب أمر قلة الردود واعتبار هذا مجرد وجهة نظر (وللترمس على حد علمي أثر ضئيل في صناعة الهويات وصياغة وجهات النظر اليسابرالية المحدثة).
و لا بد من تذكير الاكاديمي الغاضب (والذي يكره الارز ولا يرى في مزج البطاطا بالكزبرة عبقرية فذة) بان هوية شعب ما هي نتيجة انتماء وتفاعل عوامل حضارية-ثقافية, تاريخية, اجتماعية واقتصادية. ومن هذه النقطة يمكن ببساطة القول بتأسيس "هوية" لبنانية متميزة وخاصة منذ اربعينات القرن الماضي جعلت هذا اللبنان (ضمن اشياء اخرى) عصيا على الموت والذوبان ومركزا للصمود والمقاومة في محيطه.
اعتراضيا هنا اميز بين انتقاد حالة الوطن والهوية فلبنان فعلا "ينتج الان من التفاهة اكثر بكثير من قدرته على الاستهلاك" وتجتاحه موجة عارمة من الشالات السخيفة, السوبر فينيق-بنانيين واللبنان-أولا (ما قد يسبب حالات معقدة من الغثيان و كره التبولة).
ان اسلوب الكتابة المهين والجارح والذي صادقا لا بد من تلطيفه, هذا يليق تماما بالمستوى السياسي الذي وصلنا اليه (رغم وجود رجل دولة عظيما يسهر بصلابة على الوطن)! غابت القيادة ما خلا قلة حكمت عليها الظروف للاسف بموقع يغلب عليه الطابع الطائفي, وهنا مهم ذكر السمة الثانية المميزة لهذه الكتابات وهي العشوائية المفرطة والفوضى "غير الخلاقة". فهناك خبط عشواء وضرب ذات اليمين وذات الشمال بدون اي منهج بنيوي وموضوعي واضح تجعل المقالة مهرجانا مضحكا ولكن يعوزه ما ننتظره فعلا من "الدكتور" الذي لا يمكن الا ان نقدر بعض مواقفه الشجاعة والحيوية للقضايا العربية.
هناك الكثير من الاشياء الاخرى التي تحتاج جهدك.....
فيا حضرة الغاضب السعيد..رفقا بلبنان, وبالشعب الحامل اسمه ..وباغنيات فيروز!!

'Thakirat Al-Jasad' -' The memory of the body' by 'Ahlam Mostaghanmi'

This is a book that made great noise across the arab world. I finished reading it a while ago. I will try to periodically post reviews of certain books ...

This novel that goes through the woman-love/ city-country duality, not in enough emotional, psychological and intellectual depth though.

The style is very (tooooo) much interested and affected by nizar qabbani's poetry. Sporadic and forced references to general sayings from different universal works of literature that are really out of place.

Important references to corrpution that plagued the arab world and swerved the revolution arising that destroyed the huge dreams of a complete generation of arabs aspiring to modernity, and looking forward to prosperity withouth the existence of foreign occupation. Huge room for improvement, but its still good to have such works in our arabic literature.