Robin Moger Does Ahmad Yamani

Tomorrow the village market day

img_2537

By Youssef Rakha. Leukerbad, Switzerland

I will go to the spring

where you slip away to fill your jar

everyone at the market and me by the tree

Continue Reading

Robin Moger Does Sargon Boulus

Meeting with an Arab poet in exile

02135v

Cedars of Lebanon, American Colony (Jerusalem) Photo Dept, 1900-20. Source: loc.gov

At that outcast and lonely hour,
that hour of night when choices narrow
until each absence takes on meaning as a cloud of smoke,
between the voices of the drunken patrons in that small restaurant
and the wash of the still sea that beats, below, against its rocky shore,
at that outcast hour of night, that lonely hour,
he talked to me of the legendary poets of exile
and how he’d known them in his youth, he
who still followed the same path,
and from an ancient notebook
which bore on its cover the cedar of Lebanon
began to read aloud his long two-columned poems.
 .

Continue Reading

كارول صنصور: حب تشلابي

Ferdinando Scianna, Bora Bora. Source: magnumphotos.com

Ferdinando Scianna, Bora Bora. Source: magnumphotos.com 

لما كان الحنين يهجم
كنت أتخلى عن كل شي في الكون
وتلبسني رغبة الجلوس على عتبة بيتنا
جنب الياسمينة الرافضة للموت تمامًا أو العيش تمامًا
أسمع صوت أمي تقول
قومي فزي
يكفي تسطيل
كله حب تشلابي

استمر في القراءة

Noor Naga: Boy Does Not Like To Share

1414b8c7-424d-4dc7-8281-4c493b4c224d

Federico Giovannini, from “You and I”. Source: lensculture.com

Knowing a father’s belt has snap-

ping metal teeth, one does not

have to think of kneeling.

One kneels. One kneels

to please before the word is

heard or the leather tongue

slides drily through the loops.

Continue Reading

محمود المنيراوي: في السويد

SWEDEN. Malmo. December 22, 2015. A woman walks on a street in central Malmo.

Moises Saman, Malmo, December 22, 2015. Source: magnumphotos.com

لا شيء يحدثُ معي ليُكتَب
أعني أنني لا زلتُ أتنفس
لكن شيئاً لا يحدث وكأنني متجمد
أليس هذا طبيعياً في السويد؟
أن يتجمد المرء
كأنه في ثلاجة.

استمر في القراءة

Joseph Schreiber: And I Will Tell You Something

You said: I’m still here. I just don’t know what to say. But two weeks later, you were gone. And now I sit, words turned stale upon the page. Seems I’ve been here for months, rending sentences into syllables. Senseless. Torn and patched in vain.

I’m still here and you’re still gone.

You said: I don’t want to die. I just don’t want to live. But we didn’t want to hear, for fear your fear would unmask our own. We left you to your silent pain—let it erode the edges of your reserves, like waves, ceaseless, beating the shore—bruising, breaking your brash, butch swagger. Leaving fragments and splinters of you.

Bewildered, bipolar & blue.

Continue Reading

Zachary Prong: “Young men accused me of being an American spy”

I made these photos in Cairo during the summer of 2015. The news coming out of Egypt at that time was mostly violent; “Car bomb attack kills Egypt’s top public prosecutor”, “Islamic State ‘behind blast’ at Italian consulate in Cairo”, “Croatian hostage beheaded”, “Deadly attacks hit Egypt’s Sinai”. I didn’t capture the facts of these events but they loomed large over how I experienced the city.160821-cairo11

Continue Reading

No more posts.