Kifah has translated his poem H.O.M.E. into English from the Arabic. In English it shows the influence of the ghazal, a Persian poetic form, which involves couplets that repeat the same word at the end of each couplet. You can hear the influence of that pattern here as the word “home” recurs, moving from the most intimate and micro experiences to the largest possible embrace, as exile teaches the poet to see home everywhere and to develop a generous spirit. And then, of course, there’s the beauty of the script in Arabic and the beauty of his drawings.
KIFAH ABDULLA
H. O. M. E.
My mother’s womb
Her breasts, her lap
Her heart was my home
My father’s arms
His perfumed skin
Was my home
My childhood hometown
Where orchards were full
Of vines, pomegranate
Apricot, quince, fig
Date-Palm and lemon tree
Was my home
Soon I grew
An old divination predicted
My long departure
A rotten bunker in fierce war
Was my home
In a big desert
Where I was astray
I found myself without a shelter
My body was my home
A perilous journey left me
In a prison of war
Its walls were dank
I learned not to lose freedom
I defeated nightmares
My mind was a free bird
Dreams rose from ashes
I dreamt of a home
Its surroundings a garden
A size of the sky
My imagination grows
My soul is mystified
Wherever I go I find home
The wind is my home
It takes me onward
The cloud is my home
I ramble in a blue dome
My home is petals of marigold
Words of a poem are my home
Sixty-two years of travel,
Escape, prison, exile,
Migration and refuge
I found a home in the
Last station of a tortuous route
It contains: my dreams, hope
Play, and love
A home full of peace
The blue sky and the blue ocean
Meet beyond its Windows
My home is Portland
………
وطن
رحم أمي،
ثدياها، حضنها
قلبها كان لي وطن.
ذراعا أبي،
كتفاه الدافئتان،
جلده المعطر بالأريج
كان لي وطن.
مدينة طفولتي،
وبساتينها المليئة
بالعنب والرمان
والمشمش والسفرجل
والتين وَالنَّخْل وشجر الليمون
كانت لي وطن
حين كبرت، عرّافة
تنبأت سفري الطويل
ملجأ عفن في حرب ضروس
كان لي وطن.
في صحراء على مدِّ البصر
كنت تائها
وجدت نفسي بدون ملجأ
جسدي كان لي وطن.
في رحلة محفوفة بالمخاطر
في سجن حرب
خلف جدرانه الرطبة العفنة الصدئة
تعلَّمت أن لا أفقد لحن الحرية
دحرت وكسّرت مخالب كوابيس شرسة
خيالي كان طائرا حرا
وأحلامي أزهرت من رماد
حلمت بوطن
حدوده حديقة بعرض السماء.
يكبر خياليَ،
وروحي تتصوف
حيثما أذهب، أجد وطنا
الريح وطن
غيمة بيضاء
تتنزه في قبة زرقاء
تكون لي وطن
تويجات قرنفلة
تكون لي وطن
كلمات قصيدة
تكون لي وطن.
اثنان وستون عاما من
الترحال والهروب والسجن
والنفي والهجرة واللجوء
وجدت وطنا
بعد رحلة عذاب،
محطة أخيرة، أمارس فيها
طقوس فرحي وأحلامي
وأملي وحبّي
وطن مليء بالسلام
خلف نوافذه
السماء والبحر يلتقيان
وطني بورتلاند.
Kifah Abdulla is a poet, artist, writer and teacher born and raised in Baghdad, Iraq. He published his first book of poetry ( Dead Still Dream ) in 2016. He is the Arabic calligraphy instructor at MECA, Arabic instructor at SMCC and Language Exchange. Kifah is involved in many cultural and artistic projects in Portland and other places in Maine: a member of Portland Public Art Committee, a member of WMPG which broadcasts his monthly show ( Words and Music ), and the founder of the International Arabic Language Festival in Portland. Kifah lives and works in Portland.
