Uurkubbaale Seer

Uurkubbaale

'Cawdu billoo balooy baydh.'
'Bismillaahi "Yaasiin"'.
Botorkiyo ciyaartoo
Sidaa lagu bilaaboo,
Anna biito-biitiyo
Bille-jire ku dheelaan
Beri hore garaadsaday.
 
Dadka waxan ka bawsaday:
'Dhool bari ka hirey baa
Dhaanka loo bariiyaa'.
Gabaygana Burhaanoow
Waxa aniga lay baray
Inu laba u kala baxo
Beeshana u kala yahay:
 
Waxay Biliso igu tidhi:
'Hadday maanso beer tahay
Run baa lagu biyeeyaa.
Bilicsiga dareenkaa
Lagu baalaleeyaa;
Xaq baa lagu bac-rimiyaa.
Baaqbaaqa noloshiyo
Biyo-dhiijinteediyo
Xilligay ku biqishaa.
 
'Midho waxay u bixisaa
Habka loo barbaarshiyo
Barta lagu abqaalaa.
Sida loogu baahdaa
Loo buushe-bixiyaa;
Ama loo bislaystaa.
 
'Waxa lagu bardaanshaa
Baqoolkiyo geeddiga
Fac kastaa intuu bogo.
Bullashada dagaalkana
Bunduqay tilmaantaa.
 
'Waa buun wax lagu hago;
Boodaanta yeedhmada
Bigil ereygu leeyahay.
Caws baar leh weeyaan;
Lana baxay sabool-diid
Soddon laguma baayaco.
Boqor laguma caabudo.
Biidhi-qaatennimiyo
Baqas waa ka xaaraan.
 
'Waana biime liidda ah,
Boqnihiisa lama xidho.
Nin baqdaa ma halabsado;
Bayd-gaabku kuma galo;
Beentana wax kuma laha.
Waa Bilan ma-geyno ah;
Bog-dooxeedu waa sino.'
 
* * *
 
'Waxay bilic wax dheer tahay;
Iyadoon bariidada
Ballankeedi ka hor dhicin,
Kolkay bocorta maansado,
Adoo baalku kaa qoyey
Xadantana u baahnaa,
Sidii baalalleey iyo
Balanbaallis qalimo leh,
Ooy ubax baraarugay
Isku waa-bariisteen.
 
'Bogga kuu salaaxdee
Burcad kuugu duugtee,
Bu'da leebka kugu mudan
Baydari-abbaartee,
Bulxankeedu laba-dhaca
Sida uur-ku-baalaha,
Boogahaaga hoosiyo
Bayrtaada qoomee.
 
'Kolba baaq xiloodin ah
Barta aad u nogoshahay
Intuu baac u sii dego,
Tixda miino-baadhkii
Fiix kugu biskootiyo
Dhul bacdii ku taal iyo,
Ku banayso meel aan
Beryahaaba gacal dayin.
 
'Ee baahi-laawuhu
Adigoo basiiro leh
Intuu boodhka kaa tumo,
Xiisaha basaasiyo
Beer-qaado laabtee,
Tuduc wali gun iyo baar
Meel baas ku taabtee,
Intuu baaxad le’eg yahay
Isagoo banbaane ah
Badhtankaaga ka sanqadho.
 
'Ee kugu ballaadhee
Markii bayd la sheegaba,
Sidii baal qarsoodi ah
La bac dhabay xogtaadii,
Hadba baallo-daymada
Faraq-bood ka qaaddee.'
 
Maansada ba’leeyda ah
Ee baadi-soocda leh,
Bog kastoo la soo rogo
Sir aad bixisay mooddee,
Nafta oo baraad li’i:
Kolba 'baga!' tidhaahdiyo,
'Bishmaha Eebbe kuma jaro.
Ninka yidhi run badanaa!
Ma afkaygu kala baxay?'
 

Seer

In my cradle I heard the women sing
‘In the name of God, “Yaasin”’:
this is how we begin,
with the dance step and the dance.
I was playing ‘biito biiti’,
singing ‘Bille-jire’–
this is how Gaarriye grew.
 
I suckled on hearsay, drank in lore:
‘A cloud in the east means rest your feet,
the rain will trek to us.’
Dear friend, dear Burhaan, I was taught
there are two types of poem:
that which tells you how things are
and that with another agenda –
the people know which is which.
 
When she brought me up, Biliso said,
‘If a poem is a farm
then how things truly are, that’s water;
the best words for the best thoughts,
that’s how it begins.
Justice is your only compost,
life itself is what you hoe:
just squeeze truth from what happens
and in its own time it will sprout.
 
‘Whether a poem brings forth seeds
depends on how it’s tended and by whom –
the spot in which it’s planted;
depending on who needs it and for what
its husk is hulled or boiled.
 
'A poem is the measure for
that trek beneath the draining sun
each generation adds to;
when you have to stand and fight
it shows you where to point the gun.
 
‘It guides you like a conch shell horn,
the call of the large camel bell;
it is the words’ own bugle.
It is the finest matting, woven for a bride,
the one the song calls ‘Refuser of poor suitors’.
It’s not sold for coppers,
it’s not for praising the powerful;
to put a price on it, any price,
cheapens it and is forbidden.
 
‘It’s riding bareback on an unbroken horse –
you don’t hobble its heels.
Those who fear for their hides
and won’t ride without a saddle,
those lacking in the craft, can’t get near this:
lies have nothing to do with it.
Poetry is a woman you do not betray,
to abuse her beauty is a sin.'
 
* * *
 
‘It’s most lovely when most perfectly timed,
as though, met at morning,
you exchanged greetings
at just the right moment.
When your own wings feel so bedraggled
that you need another’s touch,
then the full beauty of a poem
is like a butterfly meeting
a just-wakened flower
at the exact moment of dawn.
 
‘When it seems to caress your flank,
to massage a salve into you;
when the pupil of its arrow pierces you
striking the mark exactly,
splitting your anguished cries in two.
Like a seer who peers inside you,
it homes in on your over-sensitivities,
your innermost wounds.
 
‘When you suddenly hear of your betrothal
it sends the message deeper
into your most vulnerable point.
Poetry is the mine-seeker
opening your old, scarred-over hurt,
discovering your untouched earth,
that place closed off
from those closest to you.
 
‘When Baahi-laawe, that dancing verse,
brushes the melancholy from you
as though it were a dust
that settled on your lust for life,
choked the desire in your chest;
it’s like a grenade, a bomb,
its blast-range perfectly judged
so each stanza touches you
from problematic top to troubled toe,
exploding from your core.
 
‘When it permeates you
each time a line is recited
as though from a secret page
on which your own secrets are exposed
so that each time you scan it
you jolt with anxiety.’
 
This poem alliterates in ‘b’
but all the best poems are branded
so that each page which is turned
makes you believe you’ve confessed
and each time your soul
involuntarily cries out, ‘Bravo!
Dear God, don’t seal this man’s lips –
may the truth he speaks continue
as though it burst from my own mouth.’
 

Seer

To be added soon
 

Original Poem by

Maxamed Xaashi Dhamac ‘Gaarriye’

Translated by

Martin Orwin with W N Herbert Language

Somali

Country

Somalia/Somaliland