Maran al-Massri is an Arab poet for the modern age. She writes short, seductive lyrics of astonishing clarity and piercing candor, stringing them together like pearls in a story chain. Her lines are anguished but tightly reined, breaking completely with traditional Arab love poetry to draw on everyday language as well as images and metaphors remembered and reinvented from childhood and the Koran. She was born in Syria.
Maram al-Massri (also spelled al-Masri) was born in Latakia, Syria, and moved to France in 1982 following the completion of English literature studies at Damascus University. She is the recipient of many prestigious literary prizes, including the Prix d’Automne 2007 de Poésie de la Société des Gens De Lettres, the Adonis Prize of the Lebanese Cultural Forum, the Premio Città di Calopezzati for the section Poésie de la Mediterranée, and Il Fiore d’Argento for cultural excellence. She received the Dante Alighieri Prize for her high and concentrated voice on love, in the great tradition of Arab language and European and Italian poetry. She is the author of Je te regarde, Cerise rouge sur un carrelage blanc, Le retour de Walada, Par la fontaine de ma bouche, Les âmes aux pieds nus, La robe froissée, Elle va nue la liberté, Je te menace d’une colombe blanche, Le Rapt, La femme à la valise rouge, La femme à sa fenêtre, and two anthologies, including Femmes poètes du monde arabe and Poètes syriens.
Knocks on the door. Who? I sweep the dust of my loneliness under the rug. I arrange a smile and open. * They enter our lives like small streams and suddenly we drown in them and become unaware of who gave us water and salt and left in us that bitterness. * She asked him for a dream and he offerd her a reality. * He fixes his memories with small lead pins on the walls of his room to dry them. Pictures flowers kisses and the scent of love. They all look at him * Where horses cannot gallop, where there is no crack to allow a beam of light to pass, where no grass grows, I cling to the feet of the word. * Another love dies: Submissively the woman will place it in the wardrobe of her memories filled with the embalmed birds of her dreams.
3.5 stars probably, but I'm rounding up. I love all the themes of this poetry book (or two long poems, I suppose.) I am moved by the way sex is complicated by the female gaze. I wonder if I can call it that. If the female gaze means the way women see the world through a layered and complicated lens, through the compassion of their struggles, and with a depth of feeling, then I think perhaps this book does depict the female gaze upon sex. It weaves in the feelings of guilt, shame, euphoria, great pleasure and the limitations of pleasure, all at once. I think the poetry would sound more interesting in Arabic, and I also think I would get more out of it if I understood the Arabic tradition of love poetry, but I think I'll pick it up again in a few years when my Arabic has hopefully (InshaAllah) improved significantly and report back. This book is a lamentation, a cry out, a declaration of pleasure and its scarcity. It captured a particular feeling of scarcity. I don't know exactly how to describe it. It gave me the feeling of anticipation to satisfy a craving, but then when the craving was satisfied, it leaves you feeling more empty than before-- and simultaneously releases a flood of doubts, questions, and self-confusion. Something like that. I liked it. The beginning of the first poem was riveting. I read the other two-thirds of the book in a Starbucks and that was less-than-ideal. Overall, it was really stunning.
I wanted to re-read this to compare it with Invitation to a Secret Feast, as both have been hailed as the new Arabic love poetry. Al Massri is perhaps not as explicit as Haddad, more metaphorical, enigmatic and concise, but neither is for the faint-hearted! Khaled Mattawa translated these poems, and also edited Invitation to a Secret Feast, as well as contributing some of the translations. He can certainly pick them!
une minute sur le côté gauche une minute sur le côté droit un peu sur le dos un instant sur le ventre je tourne dans le vide froid de mes rêves froid de mon lit les voleurs de sommeil ont assailli ma nuit l'un d'eux m'a prise en pitié et a laissé le matin sur ma table de nuit
donne-moi / l'amour / de chaque jour / n'alourdis pas mon coeur affligé / d'un seul atome / prends-moi / ne me frappe même pas avec une rose / ferme les yeux / sur mes erreurs / envoie tes messagers / avant de fouler ma terre
Polygamists only. It reminded me of miserable Greek poetry. Male centric. I imagine a lot is lost in translation. While I did find some of the initial poems beautiful and consider them a stroke of poetic genius I could not relate to the rest. Has she experienced love?
Recueil de poèmes portant sur les femmes et sur l’amour. J’ai beaucoup apprécié cet ouvrage bien que surprenant à certains égards par son honnêteté sur le désir mais aussi sur la tromperie/l’adultère.
Superb, brief poems capture rich ideas in a few well chosen words. No doubt an excellent translator made this so accessible. I would love to just type out the poems here - anything to persuade you to read them.