Loin de Bagdad Far from Baghdad

Loin de Bagdad

Bruit de bottes
Ismaël
a repris la place du bélier
Dieu a changé d'avis
et les larmes d'Abraham
n'y pourront rien
Les équarrisseurs sont arrivés! 
 
Perdus nous sommes
atterrés
tels ces dromedaires
en plein désert d'Irak
regardant passer
une caravane de blindés
Que l'eau
s'achète et se vende
passe
Seulement voilà
elle sert maintenant
à monnayer les consciences
 
Après les pilleurs de tombes
voici les pilleurs de musées
Admirez le progrès!
La statue a été décapitée
Ce n'etait qu'une masse
de bronze ou d'acier
Mais dans la tête des hommes
rien n'a changé
Le tyran est mort
vive le tyran!
 
La liberté s'arrache
avons-nous tous répété
comme des perroquets
Finie la rengaine
Sachez-le
la liberté s'octroie
 
«Si je ne te tue pas, je te fais une faveur», dit un vieil adage marocain. Il y a de ces traits de sagesse qui donnet froid dans le dos. «On ne prête qu'aux riches » dit l'adage français. Adapté en arabe populaire, il donnerait ceci: «Rajouter de la graisse dans le cul d'un mouton déjà engraissé.» As-tu bien jubilé, ô traducteur!
 
On ne parle que de la prohibition des armes de destruction massive. Et les armes de destruction partielle, qu'en fait-on? Au vu du sang humain répandu à profusion chaque jour, je m'étonne que l'une de ces multinationales n'ait pas eu l'idée d'en tirer une nouvelle source d'énergie.
 
Les charniers mis au jour
filmés
sous toutes les coutures
Étrange butin de guerre
 
Près d'un vehicule carbonisé
on piétine les cadavres
le sourire aux lèvres
Même dans la haine
on atteint le grotesque
 
Y-aurait'il des assassins plus nobles que d'autres?
 
Tant de poètes se sont arrêté ici
devant d'autres ruines
après d'austres ravages
Mais eux au moins
n'avaient qu'une idée en tête
improviser de nouveaux chants d'amour
 
Pour chaque femme
qui met
ou remet le voile
ce sont dix ans
de progrès
qui partent en fumée
 
Bassorah
Il ya trente ans
Le plus corsé des araks
coulait à flots
Les poètes rassemblés fraternisaient
riaient jusqu'aux étoiles
croulaient sous les visions
L'arak est trâitre!
Quelque part ici
la Sagesse
a eu sa maison
Aristote a été sauvé de l'oubli
Shéhérazade a conçu
la mère des récits
L'esprit a soufflé
à un perdre haleine
avant de succomber
suffoqué par la pollution
de la «mère des batailles»
 
Un peuple ne peut avoir raison de son oppresseur que s'il lui est supérieur, moralement
 
Un berceau de l'humanité
s'accorde-t-on à dire
Qu'on ne s'étonne pas dans ce cas
comme dans d'autres
que les prédateurs soient recrutés
au berceau
 
Mais on dirait
que l'opprimé n'a qu'une hâte
prendre la place de l'oppresseur
et sévir à son tour
contre le premier venu
ou sinon
contre lui-même
 
Malgré sa haute perspicacité, le grand Ibn Khaldoun n'a pas saisi ce fondement ordu de l'Histoire universelle
 
Quand la morale est tirée
il faut la boire jusqu'à la lie
 
Voir l'indicible et mourir
 
Dans le boyau de la nuit
un cri monte
Vers où ?
Les sept cieux
aspirés par le trou noir
ont rejoint la file
des désemparés
 

Far from Baghdad

Crash of boots
Ishmael
is back in the place of the ram
God has changed his mind
and Abraham's tears
are in vain.
The butchers are here.
 
We are lost
shocked
like dromedaries
in the desert of Iraq
who watch a passing
caravan of armoured cars
 
That water
is bought and sold
is understood
It's only now
it serves
to launder consciences
 
After grave robbers
come museum looters
Behold progress!
 
The statue was beheaded
It was only a lump
of bronze or steel
But in the heads of man
nothing has changed
The tyrant is dead
Long live the tyrant!
 
Freedom's torn apart
Have we repeated everything
like parrots?
The same old refrain is over
Know this
freedom imposes itself
 
'If I don't kill you, I'm doing you a favour', goes an old Moroccan saying. Some pearls of wisdom send shivers down your spine.
 
'We only lend to the rich', the French saying goes. In local Arabic it comes out as, 'Fatten the ass of the sheep that's already fat!' Happy now, translator!
 
We only talk about banning weapons of mass destruction. And weapons of partial destruction, what about those?
 
Given the amount of human blood spilled every day, I'm astonished none of these multinationals hasn't yet turned it into a new source of energy.
 
Mass graves unearthed
filmed
from every angle
Strange booty
 
Near a charred vehicle
corpses are trampled
smiles on their lips
Even in hatred
there's something grotesque
 
Are some assassins more noble than others?
 
So many poets stopped here
before other ruins
after other ravages
But they at least
had only one idea in their heads
to improvise new love songs
 
For every woman
who adopts
or readopts the veil
that's ten years'
of progress
gone up in smoke
 
Basra
Thirty years ago
The most potent arak
flowed freely
The poets gathered
to laugh up to the stars
awash with their visions
That traitor arak!
 
Somewhere round here
Wisdom
had its house
Aristotle was saved from oblivion
Schehrezade conceived
the mother of all stories
The spirit breathed
until it ran out of breath
before succumbing
to suffocating pollution
from the 'mother of all wars'
 
A people can only outwit their oppressor if they're morally superior
 
A cradle of humanity
shall we say
It's hardly surprising
here or elsewhere
that predators are recruited
from this very cradle
 
But you could say
that the oppressed
are eager to usurp
the oppressor
to punish in turn
those who came first
or else themselves
 
Despite his wisdom, the great Ibn Khaldun failed to grasp this fundamental twist of universal history
 
When the moral is uncorked
we must drink down to the dregs
 
 See the unspeakable and die
 
In the belly of the night
a cry rises
to where?
The seven heavens
sucked into a black hole
have rejoined the queue
of the helpless
 

Far from Baghdad

The sound of marching feet
Ishmael
has re-taken his place as a ram
God has changed his mind
and the tears of Abraham
can accomplish nothing
The rippers have arrived! 
 
Lost we are
shocked
like the dromedary
in the desert of Iraq
who watches a passing
caravan of armoured cars
That water
is bought and sold
is understood
It's only that
she now serves
to wash consciences
 
After the grave robbers
Here are the looters of museums
How admirable progress!
The statue was beheaded
It is now but a mass
of bronze or of steel
But in the minds of men
nothing has changed
The tyrant is dead
Long live the tyrant!
 
Freedom leaves
us and repeats
like parrots
Gone are the old songs
Know this
freedom doles itself out
 
"If I do not kill you, I am doing you a favour," says an old Moroccan Morocco.
here are some snippets of wisdom that send shivers down your spine.
 
We only lend to the rich" a French saying goes. Adapted to Arabic slang, you would get the following: "Add more fat in to the ass of a sheep that is already overfed." Are you happy now, O translator!
 
We only hear talk of banning weapons of mass destruction. And those of partial destruction, what will we do about those?
 
In view of the human blood that is spilled in abundance every day, I am surprised that one of these companies has not had the idea to turn this into a new source of energy.
 
 Mass graves unearthed
filmed
at every angle
A strange sort of war booty
 
Next to a charred vehicle
the bodies are trampled
with smiles on their lips
Even in hatred
we have attained the grotesque
 
Are there assassins that are more noble than others?
 
So many poets have stopped here
in front of other ruins
in front of other ravages
But they at least
had only one idea in their heads
to improvise some new love songs
 
For every woman
that puts
or reputs the veil
it is ten years
of progress
that go up in smoke
 
Basra
Thirty years ago
The most full-bodied of araks
flowed in abundance
The poets gathered and fraternized
laughing up to the stars
awash in their visions
Arak is a traitor!
Somewhere around here
Wisdom
had his house
Aristotle was rescued from oblivion
Scheherazade come up with
the mother of all stories
The spirit is blown
ran out of breath
before succumbing
suffocated by the pollution
of the "mother of all wars"
 
A people can have no rights over their oppressors if it is superior to them,
orally speaking.
 
A cradle of humanity
Shall we agree to say
It is not surprising in this case
as in others
that predators are recruited
from this the cradle
 
But it seems
that the underdog is impatient
to take the place of its oppressor
to punish in their turn
those who came first
or else
against himself
 
Despite his high perspicacity, the great Ibn Khaldun did not understand the
wisted logic of universal History.
 
When morality is stretched
we must drink to the dregs
 
Watch the unspeakable and die
 
In the belly of the night
a cry rises
To go where?
The seven heavens
are sucked into the black hole
have rejoined the queue
of the helpless
 

Original Poem by

Abdellatif Laâbi

Translated by

André Naffis-Sahely with The Poetry Translation Workshop Language

French

Country

Morocco