Tamim Barghouthi....In Jerusalem... تميــــــم البـرغـــوثي "في القدس"

[Hasan Abu Khalil]

In Jerusalem… Tamim Barghouthi

In Jerusalem
We passed upon Jerusalem, the beloved place,
But the enemy's rule and its wall turned us away.
I said to myself: May be this is a grace,
As what would I see there in a short stay?!
I would see all that I can't stand,
If from the side-way seems to me every house.
Not every soul for meeting its beloved would always rejoice,
Nor its departure would always leave it sad,
As even if they meet before departure with delight,
Such pleasure can't be definitely assured.
If you see the Old City once
You will see it in every place!

******

In Jerusalem, you would see:
A greengrocer from Georgia querulous about his wife,
Thinking of taking a vacation or painting the house.
An elderly from Upper Manhattan with a Torah,
Teaching Polish boys its commandments.
A policeman from Ethiopia closing a street in the marketplace.
A machine gun held by an underage Zionist settler.
A yarmulke saluting the Western Wall.
Blonde western tourists who don't see the City at all,
And spend the daylong taking snapshots
with a Palestinian countrywoman who sells radish in the yard.
In Jerusalem, soldiery crept with heavy steps over the cloud.
In Jerusalem, we were forced to pray in the road.

In Jerusalem, every one is present except you!

******

Hence, History grinned at me:
What have you really thought?
You would miss them and see others!
Here they are the text while you are the footnote.
Have you thought that a short stay,
Would unveil the City its gloomy fate?!
So that you can see your fantasy!

In Jerusalem, every one is present except you!

Jerusalem is the fond deer
That wanders in the sphere,
Since fate has judged that you and her depart,
You still chase her since she bid you farewell.
Calm down, son, I see that you began to faint!

In Jerusalem, every one is present except you!

******

(But I replied):

You historian, hold on!
The City has two ages, not one:
A strange assured age with steady steps,
As if it is walking asleep.
And another veiled age walking secretly in caution.

Besides, Jerusalem recognizes its self,
Ask all people there and they will report.
As everything in the City has a tongue,
When you ask, it will clearly retort.
In Jerusalem, the crescent curves further like an embryo,
Sloping towards other crescents over the domes,
And over years, their relation has developed
To be like the father to son!

In Jerusalem, stones of buildings are quoted from the Bible and Quran.
In Jerusalem, beauty is defined through a blue octagon,
Over which, giving more charm, a golden dome lies,
Which looks like a convex mirror,
That briefs the face of the skies,
Indulges it and makes it nearer,
And distributes it like a succor
To its eligible during siege time
When a whole nation appeals to God
After every Friday prayer.

******

In Jerusalem, the skies over people splinter,
Protecting us and we, in our turn, give it shelter.
And we raise it high upon the shoulder,
If dark ages oppress its moons' glimmer.

In Jerusalem, marble pillars are dark
As if the marble's veiling is of smoke.
With windows surmounting the church and the mosque,
Took the dawn from the hand,
Showing it how color engraving is designed.

The dawn says: "It is this way",
The windows say: "No, it is the other way round".
After much debate, they settle the issue:
Dawn is free when it is outside,
But if it wants to enter into it,
Holy windows have rules by which dawn must abide.

******

In Jerusalem, there is a school owned by a Mamluk
Who came from beyond the river and was sold as a slave-trade
in Isfahan to a merchant from Baghdad.
He came to the city of Aleppo
Where its prince suspected a glaucoma in his left eye,
So he gave him to a caravan heading to Egypt.
Few years later, he became the hero of Mongols
and the companion of the monarch.

In Jerusalem, a scent that briefs history of Babylon and India
At a spice-dealer store in Khan El-Zait
I do swear it has a language that,
If you listen to it, you will understand.

It tells me when they shoot tear gas at me:
"Don't be sad".
And as the gas vanishes, it says with an aroma: "Did you see!"

In Jerusalem, contradiction rests aside
Wonders there can never be denied
As if they are fabrics people wear,
The ancient of which and the new brand,
Miracles there can be touched by the hand.

In Jerusalem, if you shake hand with an elderly
Or if you touch the stones of a home,
You will find a poem or two
Engraved in your palm.

In Jerusalem, despite the continuous bite of fate,
A scent of purity fills the air, a scent of childhood,
Still, you can see doves fly high in the space
And declare between two shot an independent state

******

In Jerusalem, tombs lineup as if they are lines of word
With its earth as the book
Narrating the City's past events:
Everyone passed from here
As Jerusalem accepts whoever comes to it,
Either the infidel or the believer
Pass by them and read the headstones,
Written in every language on earth:

There are the Zinj, the Westerns, the Kipchaks,
The Slavics, the Bosniaks, the Tatars, the Turks,
The faithful and the disbeliever, the rich and the poor,
The lecher, the Sheikh and the monk.

In it, you find a witness on every race!

They used to be the margin in the book
And now they became the City's main text.

Oh, historian! What made you include me out?!
Reconsider your reading, I see that you are at fault.

I close my eye and then open it
To see that the driver has headed north
Getting away from the City's gate,
Leaving Jerusalem behind.
I could glance at it through the mirror at the right side,
Its color has changed before the sunset.
I was still staring when suddenly a smile wore my face,
Telling me: "You! Who are crying behind the wall!
Are you fool?
Have you lost your mind?
Don't cry, though you are dropped from the text.
Oh, Arab man. Don't be sad.
Know for sure that whoever in Jerusalem would be,
It is only you that I see".