is my favourite poet, and this is my favourite of his poems. It was read to me when I was 22 and I was as moved to sadness then as I have been every time I’ve read it since.
Fable of the Mermaid and the Drunks
All those men were there inside,
when she came in totally naked.
They had been drinking: they began to spit.
Newly come from the river, she knew nothing.
She was a mermaid who had lost her way.
The insults flowed down her gleaming flesh.
Obscenities drowned her golden breasts.
Not knowing tears, she did not weep tears.
Not knowing clothes, she did not have clothes.
They blackened her with burnt corks and cigarette stubs,
and rolled around laughing on the tavern floor.
She did not speak because she had no speech.
Her eyes were the colour of distant love,
her twin arms were made of white topaz.
Her lips moved, silent, in a coral light,
and suddenly she went out by that door.
Entering the river she was cleaned,
shining like a white stone in the rain,
and without looking back she swam again
swam towards emptiness, swam towards death.
Shawn said…
What a lovely poem, Maha. In that spirit, here’s one of my own favourites…
Love Poem
By John Frederick Nims
My clumsiest dear, whose hands shipwreck vases,
At whose quick touch all glasses chip and ring,
Whose palms are bulls in china, burs in linen,
And have no cunning with any soft thing
Except all ill-at-ease fidgeting people:
The refugee uncertain at the door
You make at home; deftly you steady
The drunk clambering on his undulant floor.
Unpredictable dear, the taxi drivers’ terror,
Shrinking from far headlights pale as a dime
Yet leaping before apopleptic streetcars —
Misfit in any space. And never on time.
A wrench in clocks and the solar system. Only
With words and people and love you move at ease:
In traffic of wit expertly maneuver
And keep us, all devotion, at your knees.
Forgetting you coffee spreading on our flannel,
Your lipstick grinning on our coat,
So gaily in love’s unbreakable heaven
Our souls on glory of spilt bourbon float.
Be with me, darling, early and late. Smash glasses —
I will study wry music for your sake.
For should your hands drop white and empty
All the toys of the world would break.
Mon Jul 23, 01:25:00 PM
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Anonymous said…
It is women such as yourself who inspire poetry like that of Neruda’s. Looking at your photos and never having the pleasure of meeting you, the peom “Tonight I can write” comes to mind, where he describes the eyes of his lover by writing “How could one not have loved her great still eyes”
and also “Her infinite eyes”.
Your are breathtaking.
Mon Jul 23, 09:55:00 PM
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Anonymous said…
It is women such as yourself who inspire poetry like that of Neruda’s. Looking at your photos, the poem “Tonight I can write” comes to mind, where he describes the eyes of his lover by writing “How could one not have loved her great still eyes”
and also “Her infinite eyes”.
You are breathtaking.
Mon Jul 23, 09:56:00 PM
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Anonymous said…
I’ve had the pleasure of looking into Maha’s eyes and Infinite is the perfect description for them. When she speaks her eyes show you a little girl which is one of the thousands of reasons it is so easy to be lost in everything she is. g
Tue Jul 24, 09:07:00 PM
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Anonymous said…
I don’t think I have heard of this guy before but he’s AWESOME! That poem’s so cool!
People REALLY like you, eh! That’s so neat!!!!!!
Wed Jul 25, 12:00:00 AM
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Maria Calvo said…
Wicked poem, Maha. Thanks for sharing!
Look at you and your admiring followers 😉
maria
Wed Jul 25, 10:02:00 AM
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Ijtema said…
Assalamu ‘alaykum wa rahmatullah
I pray that you are in the best of health & imaan.
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May Allah bless you for your noble efforts.
Wa’salam
Thu Jul 26, 11:23:00 AM
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Colleen said…
This is one of my favorite poems also, thanks for posting.
Colleen
Mon Jul 30, 06:50:00 PM