“I would like to say” was published in Safaa Fathy’s PEN-longlisted collection Revolution Goes Through Walls, co-translated by the author and Pierre Joris. It appears here with permission:
You can also find Fathy at a Zoom discussion later today — 3 p.m. EDT, 8 p.m. BST, 9 p.m. Cairo — with poet-translator Mona Kareem. The event is titled “Saved From the Waters.”
I would like to say
By Safaa Fathy
Translated by Safaa Fathy and Pierre Joris
I would like to say
I write about what I lost, about my vanished blood, about my laughter frozen into a mask, about this young girl who was chased away because she sighed next to the wheat dunes, that stuffed the young girls’ mouths with secrets, about this girl who was and is no more, about another one I saw spinning under the ceiling of the empty living room, her dress on fire, she calls to her master to save her, and standing naked in front of all those men. I say: I want neither father nor mother, nor to have them put on my road, or slipped into my story. Without them, I remain, and in spite of them all, I am:
I don’t know the road to paradise
I didn’t save you from hell
Sharia, that void, didn’t strike me,
I will not go to the one who has gone and will inevitably return
I wrote lines, licked the drops from the face
I said: she is of those whose past bears the present
She dashed along the wide avenue trying to cross
Like me, you also are a traveller
Without coyness, you come bearing that light,
Or is it this myth that kills us Shoot!
Kill, ash-dark bird!
Fall to earth on your feathers
That a wind blowing from the Sahara scatters
Sand dunes, purple light
That you cross from where you are not, This Sahara, our home.
There, two poles.
The coming will not come
He is your guest
Suddenly shy when he sets foot,
To where your awakening is
You, the sublime Magus
Tell me, where you keep your remains
Where can I find what leads me to them
You, the Thing, the Non-being
When they appeared, fire had covered the light
I write on your whereabouts
To meditate on you,
You, sublime creature
Be, a little, that I may see you
Cairo, imaginary date; written unthinkingly 31-11-2013
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