THE CONCEPT OF DEATH AND ITS DEVELOPMENT

IN MODERN ARABIC POETRY

BY

NAJMA ABDULLAH IDREES

Thesis presented for the degree of Doctor of

Philosophy in the University of London

School of Oriental and African Studies

May 1987
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 ABSTRACT

This thesis examines the treatment of the concept of death

in modern Arabic poetry, and the development of this concept

from the turn of the twentieth century up to the seventies.

This development is seen as having gone through three major

and distinctive stages.

The first stage is reflected in the neo-classical elegy.

The works of the neo-classicist poets (from the beginning of

the century up to the mid-tw ent ie s) are generally viewed by

critics as an imitation, or at least an attempt at emulating

the works of the major classical and medieval poets. The elegy,

practically the only poetic composition at this time in which

the concept of death was treated, is no exception to this rule.

It did not treat of death as an existential concept, but simply

lamented the deaths of particular individuals, and invariably

in laudatory terms. The treatment of death in this period is

viewed as a form of occasional poetry.

The second stage is identified with the romantic movement in

Arabic poetry (from the mid-twenties to the late forties). The

main influences which are seen as having affected the outlook

on death in this period are the works of the great Muslim Sufis,

which were gradually becoming available to the general reader,

Western romantic poetry, which in the thirties of this century

started to be widely read and translated in the Arab world, and

some Eastern theosophical doctrines, like the belief in rei n­

carnation, espoused by some prominent and influential Arab

authors such as Gibran and Naimy. As the emphasis on the good­

ness of nature and the coincidence of man with its spirit was

a characteristic feature of romantic poetry, both life and

death are viewed in this period as two vital elements which,

being in harmony with the cycles of nature, constantly ma i n ­

tain the continuity of existence.

The third stage is identified with developments in the

period between the fifties and the seventies. The Tammuziyyun

poets, the avant-garde poets of the period seem unanimously

to have utilized in various forms one or other of the ancient

myths of death and resurrection. The symbols of this ancient

mythology were used to express deep anxieties and fears about

the decline of Arab civilization under dire political and

social strains, and the hope that the Arab nation would go

through a rebirth or a great revival. This hope in particular

seemed to find its best expression in the ancient myths which

stressed the inevitability of a resurrection after death.

Finally the concept of death is examined in Palestinian re ­

sistance poetry which is seen as part and parcel of the third

stage, but which, because of the special circumstances in

which the Palestinians lived and wrote, is treated in a sep­

arate chapter on its own.

iii
 ACKNOWLEDGEMENT

I would like to express my gratitude to Dr. Jareer Abu

Haidar under whose supervision this thesis has been written.

His patient consideration of my work, his meticulous concern

and helpful comments are sincerely appreciated.

My gratitude is due to Kuwait University for their generous

grant and moral support. I would like also to thank the Kuwait

Embassy, and especially the Cultural Affairs Office for their

constant support and attention.

As this thesis was prepared at The School of Oriental and

African Studies, University of London, I should like to e x ­

press my deepest gratitude to the staff both at the School

and the University libraries for their help.

iv
 TRANSLITERATION TABLE

* 3 J* d

\ a (a) J» t

<_/
b ii z

o t t c

th t gh
(J f
j

t h q
d k
t kh
j d J 1
j dh f m

J r o n
jh
J z h

o* s j w
*
LT " sh 0?
y
OP s

The two diphthongs ( ^ ) and( ^ )are realized respectively

as aw and a y .

v
 TABLE OF CONTENTS

Page
Introduction: Arabic Neo-classicism and its Cultural
Background ..................................... 1

Chapter I : The Neo-classical Elegy and its Main

F e a t u r e s ........................................ 14

i. Classical Influences on the Elegy

in Modern Times . . . . . ................... 14

ii. Death Victorious and Life Ephemeral . . . . 18

iii. The Elegy Restricted Exclusively to the

Death of I n d i v i d u a l s .......................... 35

iv. The Vociferous Tone of G r i e f ................. 51

v. Philosophical and Speculative Elements ... 61

Chapter II : The Concept of Death in Romantic Poetry . . 81

i. The Romantic Movement in Arabic Poetry,

Its Background and F e a t u r e s ........... 81

ii. Despondency and Alienation in the Works

of the Arab Romantic p o e t s .................... 88

iii. Death, the Glorious Road to Salvation . . . 101

iv. Death as aVoluntary E x p e r i e n c e .............. 114

Chapter III : Imaginary Journeys to the World of Death:

A Study of Two Long P o e m s ..................... 126

i. °Ala Tarlq I r a m , By: Nasib cA r i d a ............ 129

ii. Shati^ al-Acr a f , By: M.A. al-Hamshari , . . .138

iii. A Comparative Study of the Two Long Poems . .149

vi
Chapter IV : The Dualism of Life and Death,
Dilemma and S o l u t i o n ............................ 155

i. S h a b b i ........................................... 157

ii. Gibran and N a i m y ...................... 168

iii. Reincarnation: The confirmation of the

Unity of E x i s t e n c e .............................. 177

Chapter V : Developments of the Concept of Death in the

Fifties and S i x t i e s ............................. 188

i. The Change in the Literary Mode and its

Effect on the Concepts of P o e t r y .............. 188

ii. The Tammuziyyun Poets and the Myth of

Death and R e s u r r e c t i o n ......................... 197

Chapter VI : Sayyab's Experience of Death ................ 223

i. The Ordeal and the S t r u g g l e ................... 223

ii. Imagery of Death in Sayyab's Poetry ......... 250

Chapter VII. The Concept of Death in Palestinian

Resistance Poetry ............................. 262

C o n c l u s i o n ..................................................... 299

Bibliography .................................................. 308

vii
 INTRODUCTION

ARABIC NEO-CLASSICISM AND ITS

CULTURAL BACKGROUND

In trying to trace the development of modern Arabic

poetry throughout its successive phases, M.M Badawi points

out that,

the literary stages.... often overlapped in

such a way that it would be difficult to
find exact dates that could be regarded as
providing sharp lines of demarcation (1).

In the light of this remark, it can be said that assigning

the emergence of Arabic neo-classicism * to the last decades

of the nineteenth century is more or less an approximate

assumption. But it is an assumption which literary historians

* This term will be used to identify the poetic school which

succeeded the era of decline in Arabic literature, and
flourished approximatly between the late decades of the nin e­
teenth century and the twenties of this century. Likewise, the
term "neo-classicists" will be used to refer to the poets of
the above mentioned period. Sometimes the term "revivalists"
is used in the course of this work to refer to the same group
of poets. This is because of the general agreement among
critics that it was one of the primary aims of the neo-classic­
ists to revive the standards of literary excellence of the
golden age of Arabic literature, as will be explained in the
course of this introduction.
 ( 2 )

subscribe to almost unanimously (2).

One may regard the last decades of the nineteenth century

as the period in which the Arab world began to witness signs

of recovery from the stagnation and decay it went through

during the Ottoman domination which continued in some Arab

lands for a period of four centuries (1516-1917)(3) . The

various factors of corruption and decay in the Ottoman Empire

had, for a long time, been at work and were expected sooner

or later to culminate in the dismemberment of the empire and

its ultimate fall. The social and political conditions in the

greater part of the Arab world were abysmally bad.

The Ottoman administration was weak, and a great

deal of foul play, oppression, espionage, loot­
ing, bribery and other forms of corruption
p r e v ai le d.(4)

The gradual decline of Ottoman domination coincided with

significant events and activities which played an important

role in bringing about an era of r ev i v a l . In Egypt there was

the Napoleonic campain and the political stirring it created,

followed by Muhammad *A1I's ambitious efforts at modernization

entailing the despatch of student missions to Europe, and the

gradual establishment and multiplication of printing presses.

Likewise, the establishment of the school of languages in

1836 during the reign of Muhammad cAli (ruled 1805-1849) was

perhaps a formative step in the history of modern Egypt. One

must add, however, that the continuous aid given to the print­
 ( 3 )

ing presses, d u r i n ^ K h e d i v e I s m a e l ' s reign (ruj'€d 1863-1879),

opened up an opportunity for publishing classical and medieval

works of the Arab literary heritage *. This activity in

particular, one may say, should be borne in mind and consider­

ed while talking about further developments in modern Arabic

literature.

In Syria and Lebanon the progress towards modernity was

"more rapid and thorough among the Christian communities"(5).

The contribution to the literary revival of foreign missionary

schools, "where the younger generation came under direct

European infuence"(6), cannot be overlooked. On the other hand

the constant waves of Lebanese and Syrian emigrants who were

trying to escape from The suppressive censorship of Sultan

*Abd al-Hamid II (ruled 1876-1909), contributed to enriching

the intellectual ferment in Egypt and elsewhere in the Arab

world through the daily newspapers and literary periodicals

they established. Thus, in the words of professor Gibb,

"Egypt's gain was the measure of Syria's loss"(7).

In Iraq a literary tradition had managed to survive, but on

the whole in the form of poetic composition.

This was possible because the classical poetic

tradition in Iraq had been kept alive from
generation to generation, preserved in the

* Classical: this term refers to the pre-Islamic literature or

what is known in Arabic as al- ‘agr al-jahili (roughly, the one
and a half centuries preceding the appearance of Is lam ).

Medieval: this term refers to the literary contribution of the

Umayyad 41(661)-132(750) and Abbasid periods132(750)-656(1258)
 ( 4 )

college mosques of Islamic centres. The

vitality of the cultural tradition in Iraq
explains the early shift to a more modern
kind of poetry which the nineteenth century
Iraqi poets were able to make when they had
to resort to a new theme.(8)

The changes which all these factors brought about began to

Eect the contemporaneous literary and poetic output. It was

in the last quarter of the nineteenth century, one may say,

that Arabic poetry seemed to have achieved a degree of

identification with its milieu and the problems of daily life,

rather than continuing to be a mere scholastic exercise, w h e r e ­

as "the first three-quarters of the nineteenth century", as

Haywood puts it, were "characterized more by promise than by

achievement"(9). The increasing awareness of the inferiority

of Arabic poetry during the period of decline, perhaps, pr e­

pared the way for the era of revival. A quick glance at the

poetic output of the age of decline will show the abysmal level

which it had come to. Arabic poetry from the thirteenth century

to the nineteenth century(lO) had been subjected to critical

standards laid down by philologists and grammarians who were

primarily interested in its form and its conformity to the

rules of prosody. The literary atmosphere as a whole was, in

the words of Badawi, "marked by a general lack of vitality and

imagination, a growing feeling of complacency and self-suffi­

ciency and an apparent unwillingness or inability to explore

new h or izo ns "(11). The poem was used to amuse or entertain or

address local rulers and officials, commemorate events and

important occaifsions, and convey messages of congratulation

 ( 5 )

on the occa/sions of weddings or births,and condolences on the

o c c a s i o n s of death or other misfortunes. Furthermore,

(h
"embellishments, like ba d lc (art of metaphors), ^
1 inas (p/ronomasia) , tibaq (antithesis)11 and
similar f o r m a l exercises "made of poetry a
craft rather than an art"(12)*.

Efforts, therefore, were merely expended to prove skill or

resourcefulness in the choice and use of far-fetched words,

and this process drove poetry to utter futility and super­

ficial i t y .

But the new factors of change which were affecting various

aspects of Arab life by the late decades of the nineteenth

century were also working, directly or indirectly, to animate

cultural life and create favourable conditions for literary

development. Works of classical and medieval Arabic poetry in

manuscript form started to be edited and published and made

available to the reader. Those works, in many respects, rep­

resented in the eyes of readers and poets the golden age of

Arabic poetry, and "because of their framework, diction,

idiom, and phrase structure remained models of excellence"(13).

The process of introducing the Arab literary heritage to

readers seems to have provided new sources of inspiration.

* For a more detailed explanation of these terms and other

strictly formal exercises in writing poetry, see S.Kh. Jayyusi's
wor^> T r e n d s , from which this quotation is taken, p. 25.
 ( 6 )

Discovering the healthy roots of classical Arabic poetry

provided an incentive to free Arabic poetry from the

artificiality of the era of decadence. This was the attempt

undertaken by the revivalist poets towards the end of the nin e­

teenth century. These were the poets who came to constitute

what is described and known as the neo-classicist movement in

Arabic poetry and Arabic literature as a whole(14).

When talking about the early emergence of the revivalist m o v e ­

ment it is, perhaps, necessary to consider the role of Mahmud

Sami al-Barudi (1839-1904), as the leader and mentor of this

school or m o v e m e n t (15). He, seemingly, had a strong faith that

classical and medieval Arabic poetry could be a guideline and

source of inspiration from which he and the poets of his time

might establish a firm basis for further development and

creativity. It was Barudi who first tried to rescue Arabic

poetry from the artificiality and weakness in language and

structure that it had come to during the era of decline. His

attempt consisted in trying to emulate and maintain the Arabic

classical and medieval masterpieces in their style and theme.

The tendency imitation in Barudi's poetic works cp-uTd be

clearly noticed and identified. One should perhaps add, h o w ­

ever, that Barudi was not a mere imitator of the Arabic

classical and medieval authors but used their conventional

forms quite often in order to deal with aspects of his own

time, and to convey genuine personal ex periences(16).

It is commonly agreed that some prominent poets throughout

the Arab world like Ahmad
# Shawqi (1868-1932), Hafiz
• •
Ibrahim

(1871-1923), M a cruf al-RusIfi (1875-1945), Jamil Sidqi al-

Zahawl (1863-1936), Khayr *1-Din al-Zirikli (b.1893) and

*
Shaklb Arsalan (1870-1946) continued the movement started

by Barudi and made their own substantial contribution to the

revivalist movement. All these poets, while going through a

conscious attempt to revive the pure diction and structure

of classical poetry and its themes, did not, one may say,

overlook the immediate political and social problems of their

everyday life. This tendency is one of the revivalists' char­

acteristics which seemed to be appreciated to some extent by

their contemporary critics.(17)

Assessing the achievement of the neo-classicists and any

possible ideology reflected in their works, M.M. Badawi say§,

that

although generally moralistic and even didactic,

the neo-classicism of al-Barudi and his follow­
ers, unlike the neo-classicism of English and
French poetry, has no (philosophical) founda­
tions. It does not rest upon a theory that clear­
ly delimits the roles of reason and the imagina­
tion, nor does it assume that (generality) is a
principle that the poet must fo ll ow. (18)

It was not long, however, before the neo-classicists were

exposed to serious criticism and particularly in considering

the form of the classical Arabic ode^qaslda^as absolute and

good for all time (19). Their total belief in the superiority

of the classical ode and their attempts to emulate its con­

ventional form and style, perhaps, prevented the revival-

 ( 8 )

ists from achieving any radical changes, and might be the

main cause for their identification as "reactionary” or

"conservative" by some of the critics of their day.

The other obstacle that hindered the neo-classicists from

realizing any substantial changes in the form and content of

their poetry was their fear or suspicion of alien influence,

and especially Western culture (20). Their immediate reaction

against foreign literary influence was, apparently, to stick

even more firmly to the poetic conventions of the past. Such

an attitude may explain why "the adoption of Western literary

modes came much later than that of Western technology or even

of Western thought"(21). Despite the interaction between

Arabic and Western culture, which most of the revivalists

witnessed at the turn of the “t’urenhj^tk century, the

assumption that Arabic poetry was superior to Western poetry

seemed to be faithfully adhered to. Consequently literary

influences from the West, in the view of the neo-classicists,

were but a direct threat to the excellence and originality of

the literary products of the Arab past.

The inflexible and puritanical attitude of most of the neo-

classicists against any possible change seems to have led to

the conflict between the partisans of the "old" and the

"new"(22), represented respectively by the poets mentioned

above and some of their critics in the early decades of this

century. In Egypt, there w^nfCAqqad and Mazini criticizing the

 ( 9 )

conventional poetic concepts and suggesting a new view of

poetry in their joint work al-Diwan fi'l-Naqd wa al-Adab

(1921). And in the Ma hj ar* ,there was M l k h a ’il Naimy introduc­

ing similar views about the message of modern poetry and its

medium in his critical work al-Ghirbal (1923). There is little

doubt that such a conflict between the conservative poets and

their critics was necessary, if one does not say, indispens­

able, for preparing the way for a healthy and fruitful inter­

action between Arabic and Western concepts of literature.

The aim of this brief introduction was to give a general

idea about the role of the neo-classicists in modern Arabic

literature and their understanding of the function of poetry

and its standards of excellence. Considering these outlines,

one may proceed towards the main subject of this thesis which

is concerned with tracing the developments that affected the

"concept of death" in modern Arabic poetry in the period from

the early decades of the twentieth century up to the seventies.

This period seems to have boasted of being an era of significant

literary ferment and upheaval in which Arabic poetry bears the

seeds of change and becomes the field that welcomes bold

experimentation and forward-looking movements. This is, h o w ­

ever, the very characteristic aspect of an era which not only

embarked upon the revival of the Arab own literary treasures

of the past, but also attempted to aquire knowledge and guid­

ance from Western literary experience. The benefit of this

fusion was obvious.

* See note p.83 below.

 ( 10 )

For the poetic experience of centuries in the

West was compressed into a few decades, and
the over-all picture is dazzling to the observ­
er. From the neo-classical revival, poetry
proceeded quickly to romanticism, symbolism and,
to a lesser extent, surrealism (23).

The emergence of social realism or neo-realism between the

fifties and seventies must not, likewise, be overlooked when

talking about the successive literary trends which affected

Arabic poetry throughout this century.

Many literary studies either historical or critical have

been dedicated to the examination and assessment of the

various aspects of modern Arabic poetry in the light of recent

J
developments. But the idea of death as a poetic concept seemed

f tomb'd overlooked or only briefly treated in scattered articles

i /
and comments (24). This concept, one may say, was scarcely

mentioned as a relevant aspect worthy of study in literary

works, particularly as most of these works are, in general,

merely concerned with examining the biographical and social

background of poets or offering anthologies of their works (25).

One must, however, exclude Rita A w a d 1s book Usturat al-Mawt

w a *1-Inbi*ath f i ’l-Shi^r al-Arabi al-Hadith "The Myth of Death

and Resurrection in Modern Arabic Poetry". This study can

best be described as an examination of the symbols of death

and resurrection in ancient mythology which seemed to have

attracted the Arab avant-garde poets of the period between the

fifties and the seventies. These mythical symbols have recent­

ly been utilized as part of modern poetic expression and

 ( 11 )

particularly in connection with the theme of "the eclipse

and revival of the Arab civilization", namely expressing the 1

fear of the nation's death and the faith in its renascence.

This symbolic aspect of the concept of death in modern Arabic

poetry, which is examined in the above-mentioned work, seems

to find repeated use in the Arabic poetic output between the

fifties and the seventies.

With the exception of Usturat al-Mawt w a ?1-Inbi*ath, there

has not been, as far as I know, an exclusive and comprehensive

study devoted to tracing and examining the development of the

concept of death in modern Arabic poetry in the period from

the early decades of the twentieth century up to the seventies.

I am hoping that this study will go some way towards filling

this gap, and that in the process of doing so it will throw

some added light on various other developments in modern Arabic

poetry.
 FOOTNOTES TO INTRODUCTION

(1) Badawi, M.M, An Anthology of Modern Arabic V e r s e , Oxford,

1970, p.XI, (An An thology)

(2) Al-Aqqad, *Abbas Mahmud, Shu^ara’Misr wa B i ’atuhum , Cairo,

1950, p.4, (Shu*ara? ); Husayn, Taha, al-Maimu*a al-Kamila
li Mu*allafIt Taha H u s a y n , Beirut, 1973, vol:XII, p . 366,
(Ma jmu* a ); D a y f , Shawql, al-Abab al-*Arabi al-Mu'asir f1
M i s r , Cairo, 1961, p.41, (A d a b )

(3) Haywood, John A, Modern Arabic Li t e ra tu re ,L o n d o n , 1971,_

Chap. 1 ,1 1 , (Haywood) ; al-Jundl, Anwar, al-Shi^r al-*Arabi
al-Mu*as ir , Cairo, (n.d), p. 7
(4) JayyusI, Salma Khadra, Trends and Movements in Modern
Arabic P o e t r y , Leiden, 1977, vol:I, p . 27, (Tr e n d s )

(5) G i b b , H.A.R,"Studies In Contemporary Arabic Literature",

Bulletin of the School of Oriental Studies, London,
1926-28, v o l :I V , p. 748

(6) I b i d , p . 742

(7) Ib i d , p .760

(8) T r e n d s , I, p . 27

(9) H a y w o o d ,p .71

(10) The period of decline is usually considered to start with

the Mongol invasion of Baghdad. See: Nic ho l so n, R.A ,
A Literary History of the A r a b s , Cambridge, 1953, p.444

(11) An A n t ho lo gy , p.VII

(12) T r e n d s , I, p . 25

(13) I b i d , p .37

(14) Shu ^ar a? , p . 11,12 ; An An tho lo gy, p.X; Badawi, M.M,

A Critical Introduction to Modern Arabic P o e t r y , Cambridge,
1975, p . 14, (Critical Introduction)

(15) Shu *a ra? , p . 12; Nashawi, Nasib, al-Madaris al-Adabiyya fi

al-Shi^r al-Arabi al-Mu^agir, Damascus, 1980, p .51,(M ad ar is )

( 12 )
 ( 13 )

Dusuqi, A, Jama*at Apollo wa Atharuha fi*1- Shi fr al -

Hadith, Cairo, 1960, p . 29

(16) Diwan Mahmud Sami al-Barudi, e d :al-J a r i m , fAli and Shafiq,

Muhammad, Cairo, 1971, see for example: v o l : I, p .237-9,
voisll, p . 81-5, 117-8

(17) A d a b , p. 89

(18) An Ant ho l og y, p.XI

(19) Naimy, Mikha'Il, al-Ghirbal, Beirut, 1964, see his

articles "al-Hubahib" and "'1-Durra al-Shawqiyya";
‘Abbud, Marun, *Ala~ al-Mihakk, Beirut, 1946, see his
acticles "Imarat '1-Shicr" p . 16-26 and " a l - Sh u^ ra * " ,
p. 27-33

(20) Dayf, Shawqi, Shawqi S h a fir al-*A§r al-ljadith, Cairo,

1953, p .90,1

(21) Critical Introduction, p . 14

(22) cA b b u d , Marun, Fi * 1-Mukhtabar, Beirut, 1970, the essay

"al-Ma6raka al-Adabiyya fi Misr", p . 5-10

(23) T r e n d s , II, p . 530

(24) Al -M ala ^i ka, Nazik, Qadaya al-Shifr al- Mu ca s i r , Beirut,

1974, (Q a da ya ) , see the article al-Shifr wa al-Mawt",
p.294-305 ; Musa, Munif, al-Shicr a l - fArabi al-Hadith fi
L u b n a n , Beirut, 1980, see the chapter entitled 'al-Mawt
fi Shi^r^al-Shu^ara-' al-Judud" p.74-97_; Badawi, M.M,
"al-Taqrir w a ,l- Ih a? fi sh i‘r *1-Shabbi" , Dirasat fAn *1 -
S h ab bf , ed: Kerru, Abu al-Qasim.M , Tunis, 1 96 6 ,p.108-111

(25) Sharaf , *Abd al-CAziz, al-Ru*ya al-Ibda *iyya fi Shirr al-

Hamshari, Silsilat Iqra* , Cairo, 1980, p . 119 ; Mas*ud,
Habib, Gibrln Rayyan wa M a y t a n , Beirut, 1966, p_.137-140,
337-341 , (Gibran Ijayyan) ; Kerru, A.M, al-Shabbi ffayatuhu
wa shi*ruh, Beirut, 1960, p. 37, (al-Shabbi Ha ya tu hu )
 CHAPTER I

THE NEO-CLASSICAL ELEGY AND

ITS MAIN FEATURES

I. CLASSICAL INFLUENCES ON THE ELEGY

IN MODERN TIMES

A survey of the poetry of the Arab neo-classicists and the

various themes they treated may lead one to notice that the

conventional elegy seems to be the only poetic category

(Ar. g h a r a d , pi. ag hra d) in which the concept of death was

treated. This means that the neo-classical elegy appeared

to be the only poetic category which displays the various

aspects of an experience of death and the poets' outlook on

such an experience.

One may understand that the neo-classicists were inclined ^

to imitate the classical and medieval poets with a view to ^

\
reviving Arabic poetry after the era of decline. Being over ­

whelmed by the impact of the classical poetic conventions and

themes, the neo-classicists seemed to have faithfully followed

the steps of their predecessors, aspiring to emulate what they

considered to be an example of excellence. The conventional

elegy, one may notice, was among the classical categories

which had inspired the neo-classicists, and was even adopted

by them in its complete form. Thus the old basic features of

the classical and medieval elegy seem to be retained in modern

times including the imagery, the idioms, the conventional

style and outlook.

Surveying the genesis of the elegy in the pre-Islamic period,

one may notice that the early examples of the elegy had grad­

ually moved through the phase of primitiveness before attain­

ing a mature stage of development (1). One can, however,

perceive the complete framework of the genre in that early

phase by referring to the representative elegy works of the

well-known pre-Islamic poets who, one may add, seemed to have

established the final form of the elegy, and presented it as

the main poetic category which dealt with the phenomenon of

death. The role of the elegy, as those poets understood it,

consisted in displaying their grievous reaction to the death

of someone known to them with great sincerity and spontaneity.

It is, perhaps, important while talking about the early

examples of the pre-Islamic elegy to consider the particular

circumstances of a life governed by certain conventions and

customs. In pre-Islamic times, the incident of death and the

relevant burial ceremonies were usually accompanied with""

particular rituals which were constantly practised and highly

 ( 16 )

appreciated by people at the time (2). Bearing in mind this

particular background, one may say that an elegy written by

a poet living in such social and cultural circumstances

normally tended to portray the conventional ways of life and

to conform to established literary expressions and forms. One

can notice that the individual experiences of the death of

dear relatives are quite vividly reflected in the pre-Islamic

elegies, and approachpfT a good degree of genuineness in the

way they mirrored the spirit of the age (3). The character­

istic elements of the pre-Islamic elegy may best be deduced

from the representative examples of the genre such as the

elegies of al- K ha ns a5 (died 26/646) on her two brothers

Sakhr and M u c awiya (4), the elegies of Abu D h u ’ayb al-Hudhali

(died 28/649) on his sons (5), and Labld's elegies (died 40/

660) on his brother Arbad (6). These examples may likewise

give a clear notion about the principal rules which had been

regarded as the general basis of the conventional elegy.

It is obvious that the pre-Islamic elegy with its various

features and framework seems to have remained the standard

norm throughout the subsequent medieval era, and up to the

late compositions of the neo-classicists in the early decades

of the twentieth century. This means that, despite the long

period which separated the classical age from modern times,

the genre seems to have remained as the main literary form

through which the neo-classicists expressed their feelings

 ( 17 )

and views about death. They do not seem to have freed their

attempts from the dominant framework and conventions of the

inherited old elegy. The constant tendency by neo-classical

poets to emulate classical examples in order to achieve the

standards of their predecessors, may answer the question as

to why the elegy in modern times remained the sole form of

expression in which the concept of death was treated.

The striking similarities in theme and structure between

the compositions of the classicists and the compositions of

neo-classicists will be pointed out in the course of the

following sections. This may shed light on the automatic

resort to the classical poetic heritage on the part of the

neo-classicists, and it may help to answer the following

questions:

1- How far did the neo-classicists succeed in their attempts

to emulate the classical elegy ?

2- To what extent were the neo-classicists, while writing

elegies, able to depict their immediate experiences or

reflect their own time and milieu ?

3- Did the neo-classicists add any new dimensions to the

elegy genre or contribute to modernizing it in any form ?

it it it it
 II. DEATH VICTORIOUS AND LIFE EPHEMERAL

Examining the neo-classicists' outlook on the phenomenon

of death in their elegy works, one may notice the following

two aspects. First, death was considered as the antithesis

of life. That is to say, the two phenomena death and life

were pictured as not integrated phenomena, nor capable of

being viewed in one light, or as complementary to each other.

This betrays an unmistakable awareness of an

aspect of dualism between life and death. No wonder, one may

add, that death appeared with the characteristic of

independence and exclusiveness which made of it a phenomenon

that contradicts life and that can never be in harmony with

it. Second, death was conceived of as an inexorable power

that totally controls the destinies of all existence. Likewise

death was also viewed as a cruel will manipulated by evil

elements which aim at dominating the living, and triumph over

their weaknesses by annihilating them. Since death is depict­

ed as endowed with such cruel dominion and sway, life, as a

consequence, is pictured as being under the sway of its

authoritative power, and is viewed as an ephemeral phenomenon

which is devoid of permanence, glory and worth.

This particular perception of death and life perhaps

 ( 19 )

prepared the neo-classical elegy to be a repetitive timeworn

poetic form which constantly portrays death as an inexorable

victorious power, while life is pictured as its helpless

victim which can never hope for anything other than defeat.

This is well illustrated by Ruslfl who, while meditating

man's frailty before death, presents the following picture:

Ll J 1 J t wife

>« 1*11 ^ taJJ Ll-j iii.hh h ^ 1 j< ^ IjjJ I j i

Vf ( 1) l.lk & 1"S/ I L »k .P t L» u lJ J b p llnfcl L J 1 £

Here is the army of death advancing towards people

But without raising dust or making any clamour.
There is a fight between the malady and the cure
In which the victory for the malady is ordained by God.
People are but material for death
They are saved from one form of ruin,
Only to fall victim to another.

Here Rusafi seems to treat a particular aspect which is almost

characteristic in the compositions of the neo-classicists. It

is the aspect of the conflict between death and life which

the poet sees as inevitable as long as these two phenomena are

totally opposed and pictured as contradictory to each other.

k ---------------------------------------------------------------------
* These verses cited from an elegy written on the occasion of
Mahmud ShukrI al-Alusi's death, a well-known Iraqi scholar.
 ( 20 )

In trying to portray this eternal conflict, Rusafi resorts to

the image of a battle in which death not only gains the upper

hand, but also dominates the lives of all beings by means of

governing their destiny. On the other hand the living in this

battle represent the weak side whose lot is always and inevit­

ably surrender and defeat. ShawqI's elegies, likewise, almost

tend to portray the same imagery, in which the same severe

conflict rages between death and life, and suggesting the

inevitable victory of death over life. Elegizing his grand­

mother, Shawqi says:

3 L-J-LU j f L— »JJ j *
Cj 1,„. * 11 jJ 1^ L>J 1 l*^

(8)cT )I JLj f"('1— ‘

Life is but a battle

In which we become targets for swords and lances.
Everybody has been forcibly driven into this struggle
As a coward is driven to withstand (what he cannot avoid).
We are frightened and horrified, until we are at last
Pierced by an arrow of the inevitable fate.

And as death always gains the upper hand, the inevitable

result has to be expected, as Shawqi concludes in the follow­

ing verse from an elegy written on the occasion of the death

of the vice-president of the Egyptian National Party, Muhammad

Far i d :
 ( 21 )

( 9 ) I j y ^ ^ I ( jJ ^.j * * " iJ J L p rt- j «» 1 ^ y J ^ y r ->

Every living being will proceed towards death

The caravans follow each other,
And death is the leader.

What one does not fail to notice is that the notion of the

unbounded power of death on the one hand, and the weak ephemeral

essence of life on the other seems to be strongly influenced

by the classical and medieval works which were constantly vi e w ­

ed as examples to be emulated by the neo-classicists. Compar­

ing the preceding verses with their sources of inspiration

may illuminate this point, and show to what extent the neo-

classicists drew on classical and medieval examples. Some of

the foremost medieval poets such as Abu al- Atahiya 130(748)-

210 (825), Abu Tammam 190 (806)-232 (846) and Abu a l - cAla^ al-

Ma^arri 363 (973)-449 (1058) seem to have established the

conventional view of death and its inexorable power, as they

persistently pictured death in their compositions as the

ultimate victor. This is, however, the main aspect of Abu al-

A t a h i y a ’s thought in particular. His poetry is permeated by a

sense of desperation which found its fullest expression in the

theme of asceticism. Here is a fragment of Abu al- A t a h i y a ’s

view of death:

(10) Lj Lsj J 1 J 0 T <JL9 lh.j —w **. I— * C- ■< I 1 j 1J jjf-9 C *1

 ( 22 )

(0 man), you are in a land

In which you keep witnessing the rage of death
Dominating people's will

Likewise, Abu Tammam seems to believe that:

*(11) *-*3 ^ ^ V 1 d-: <-*J It N ( l.i«IIp ) Li!*

0 "Ghalib", nothing defeats death.

Death alone is the ultimate victor.

Ma^arrl, in his turn, wrote this famous verse, seemingly, to

reveal the purport of his outlook on life and the living:

(12) Vj U a ^ ^O-i V ^ 1* lS*1® L-*>

0 friend, here are our graves filling every expanse c_

(Can you tell) where are the graves since the time of Ad?**

Coupled with the notion of the inexorable power of death is

the idea that death works incessantly to fulfil its course. It

/' IM )
is a wheel that never stops t,o'' rot at ^. ]This is perhaps made /

* It is important to note the paronomasia involved in this

verse in the name of the person (Ghalib al-Sa*di) and the
epithet which follows it.

* * 4A d , a pre-Islamic tribe referred to in the Quran. See for

example: Surat Fussilat, verses xiii,xv and Surat al-Haqqa,
verse vi
 ( 23 )

clear by Shawqi who resorts to the universally familiar

metaphor of death as a cup which all will have to drink

U*^
j 1 |> L j Ij Is I.,....— ^ l^s J-J-l I
( 2 2 ) b a-R J I "V J t ^ JL5 ^ b x V I L *» - j)

It (death) is a cup that will be given to every one.

Whoever tastes it will throw off all restraint.
Night assiduously passes it round
And when night is overtaken by fatigue,
The day takes over.
Conferring it as his gifts, so that the aged and the
young, alike, do not last.

These lines of Shawqi unmistakably echo another verse by Abu

Tammim who says:

(14) J lSlS U jjJ I

All that accrues to the world has dried up,

And now it preys upon human lives without count.

The particular understanding of the neo-classicists of the

non-stop conflict between death and life prompt one to attempt

a further examination of their view about the position of man

in this conflict, and the attitude he takes before the

 ( 24 )

’’inexorable power” of death. One cannot perhaps mistake the

stereotyped view of the neo-classicists of the human being

who almost faces his inevitable fate helplessly. It is an

attitude that often betrays a passive response implying little

more than weakness and frailty. These signs of human weakness

before death were obviously seen as inherent characteristics

of human nature, since man could not overcome the inevitable

nor preserve an everlasting life. The power of death was

simply viewed as supreme and inexorable. On the other hand the

poets present the image of man whose life is short and

evanescent, and whose abilities amount to nothing but utter

helplessness. It is, one might say a distinct neo-classical

thought based on two basic aspects, the threat of death on

the one hand,and m a n ’s fear and total helplessness on the

other. The passive reaction on man's side to such a threat,

which is often portrayed by the neo-classicists in their

elegiac works, may illuminate the overall picture of their

understanding of death, which amounts to the belief that

death is the ultimate existential tragedy. This is because

its destructive power always triumphs over the living and

turns the earth to desolation. And in the end, the conclu­

sions drawn are well exemplified by verses like the follow­

ing cited from Rusafis poetry:

J jJmoJ 1if-Lh (jJLp I ciJbi-

 ( 25 )

^ -*■'** ***- ■— c*j 1 I* i 1 * 11 j 1^*4 i'J^jlJ I 1j

*(]_5) ^ tr* ° *■*-*

All the surface of the earth is but graves for people

So tread gently on those chests, eyes and mouths.
For you will perish like them. f
And death outlives all with its bloody talons.

This, one might say, is a typical neo-classical depiction

which asserts that there is no possible way for a living

being to escape the destructive power of death, for it creeps

unrelentingly towards him. And sooner or later death will

dispose of the lives of all living beings. Overwhelmed by this

stereotyped image of death, Shawqi seems to find it convenient

to make these two assertions in the context of two of his

el eg ie s:

* w (16) ^ I rt*1j t (j— >vJ I(Jj 1 ^ ^ Is ^O ^ ^ I

* One can easily discern the similarity between these verses

and M a 4arri's well-known pronouncement:
J \ 1 6 ifc "S/ IJ> j 1 J I J1 ^ L 1
ti 1in IIC V ' *■> 1 V ^ 1 (_y® I^ ^ im

Tread lightly,
For the surface of the earth is nothing but the bodies
of the dead.
Walk if you can on the air gently
Not haughtily upon the remains of people.

**This verse is citex[ from an elegy written on the occasion of

\X Riyad Pash's deaths who was the Prime Minister of Egypt
(W ' between 1879 -^T8'9Tr
 ( 26 )

Is it not true that life is evanescent?

And that the destiny of the living is death?

And:

*(17) i
—.l^!I 0“"J^ 1 t—•lyj J Li O ^ o^"^

Every human being, even if his life should seem long,

Is but dust born out of dust.

Inasmuch as the compositions of the neo-classicists display

the unbounded power of death, they betray the tendency to deal

with life as solely and totally passive, or as a mere vehicle

of dissolution and decay. This is an attitude which overlooks

completely the essence of goodness in life, and evokes u n ­

mistakable doubt as to its value or worth. Whenever life it­

self is described in their compositions, it emerges depicted

with contempt and disdain. In Rusafi's words:

(IB) A i S '■ “** ^Ow I.■^ £ I £ A b>J 1 "

* From an elegy dedicated to Ya^qub Sarruf, the founder of the

Egyptian newspaper al-Muqtatif, who died in 1928.

**_From an elegy written on the occasion of Muhammad Mahdi al-

Khalisi's death in 1925.
 ( 27 )

How miserable this life is

Even though it is enticing and fascinating.

Shawqi likewise sees that:

*. 1( tftj I ^ 'j—* ^ d LxJ 1 ^ iI^4 Js

•k( 1 9 ) <-S ^ W -9 ,? o* LuJ 1^

Life in essence is nothing but poison

In its food and drink and the air we breathe.
And people do not know from which poison
They have been given to drink:
The slow or the rapidly killing one.

One can perhaps compile a whole anthology of classical and

medieval examples of verse which disparage life and picture

it as a source of misery and suffering, an aspect which has

led people to speak of the philosophical desperation of the

Arab. The following are some representative pronouncements

of Abu al-^Atahiya and Ma^arri whose influence continued to

be echoed in neo-classical works:

(20) C.w^f I i■< I ■ O ^J f 1*11) t <*>. LwJ

,v From an elegy dedicated to Fawzi al-Ghazzi, one of the

Syrian national leaders in the twenties of this century.
 ( 28 )

Life is like a poisonous snake

Despite its smooth touch.

(21) <***■« j-J 'j -* %i U ^ 1j L-uJ I N

Do not glorify life,

For, as you know, all that there is in it
Is paltry and contemptible.

(22) J Ljj I \j I 1 Lj 3 L^J 1 Ij. 1^ u u c

Life is a continuous harsh struggle.

I wonder why people ever wish to live longer!

And:

12 J L.4,1L ^g.3L~>i* id L *j
LfJ i-*5 )1 C* < ■(<*> T *

(23) LfJ I—A>" «"■J ^ ■1^ »!>• 1^.*j lli

The caravans of life urge on

The travellers and the non-travellers.
Life's happiness is never complete,
(For even) the happy person does not realize
unblemished happiness.
I divorced her (life) when I experienced her ways
and manners.
 ( 29 )

The previous illustrations from medieval poetry may draw

o n e ’s attention to the fact that the neo-classicists were

seemingly prepared toassimilate the inherited viewpoint

about the insignificance of life in its entirety,and there­

fore tried in various contexts to give further dimensions to

the pessimistic attitude of their forbears. In some of the

works of the neo-classicists one notices that their depiction

not only portrays gloomy images of life, but also evokes

destructive philosophical views about the position of man in

existence. Man, according to their pessimistic philosophy, is

a fleeting shadow devoid of the attributes of choice and will.

He is a frail and paltry being who is constantly threatened by

factors of decay, until, in the end, he turns to nothingness.

This particular view of man is almost implicit in the follow­

ing image of him presented by Rusafi:

pi LmmJ Lj \ ..*>&^ V t * 1 L*
|111-J -t11^ jm.< Ip IiU P ^ <1 1 ■ **^ V I Jj (_5 If—^
(2 Zj.) 1 JI L r jJ I\£ 1 LpaJLsC j l f t > —*C ^ ^ £

Man is a tree in a desert

Hot winds blow at its branches.
Its leaves become dry, except for a few of them
And its branches are gnawed at by the elements (lit.sharp
te eth ).
This tree will inevitably be uprooted one day,
And one of the assailing winds will carry it away.
 ( 30 )

This is the metaphorical expression of Rusafi's view of life

and the living. This view seems to be reiterated by the

following two verses by Shawqi,taken from different elegies,

but with greater focus on the aspect of life's temporariness:

Nights are rather short.

And life is but a sleeper's dream.

**(26) ? tSL- JU J-J f 1 fJL; V U jj L c *j 1 L

What are you life? Are you a sleeper's dream?

Or a wedding night?
Or a (temporary) revelling party?***

One may trace various lines of thought which persist in

picturing life as ephemeral and as being simply a dream or

£ _
*This verse is cited from an elegy dedicated to al-Husayn b. Ali,
the king of Hijaz who died in 1931.

** From an elegy written on the occasion of the death of the

poet and magistrate Isma^il Sabri in 1923.

*** Shawqi's metaphor in the last hemistich of this verse

would be awkward if translated literally, (i.e. carpet spread
with the choicest wines).
 ( 31 )

the clamour of a wedding night that passes soon, or a

temporary ecstasy. This particular imagery, which almost

evokes desperation, tends to remind man that he has little

to expect except frustration and nothingness. Thus the idea

is reiterated that there is no reason to be deluded by the

passing glitter which might deceive the sight. Shawqi says

elegizing Y a cqub Sarruf*:

^i & i*I ^^ i—. ^ Ijb’ L>p^j t d^ I4 .in

U l!j J J ' ^ I I■<> ^ hs
ISj j L*i- tjfS L. 1S^> j
- f-di 1_^J U J
( 2 7 ) *hiJiS 1. lift l.t U 11£

0 life, your horizon (lit.sky) is as deceptive

As a mirage.
And your earth is a prosperity which is on the

* See note p . 26 above.

** These lines offer a close parallel to Abu al - cA t a h i y a 's

verses:

£.1£,j
LSJ> US

Get sons of death, build houses for decay

All, all, ye wend annihilation's way.
For whom build we, who must ourselves return
Into our native element of clay?

Translated by: Nicholson, R.A, A Literary History of the A r a b s ,

London, 1907, p. 299
 ( 32 )

point of destruction.
You are but a corpse with hyenas and wolves
milling around it.
You crouch at the cross-road
While the caravans pass by one after another
And disappear each one in the dust raised by the other.
Neither their temporary company interests you,
Nor their absence disturbs you.
You guide your sons to death like a commander
Who views his men as insignificant flies.

This frustrated approach towards life does not only link life

with dreadful corruption, but also shows that life does not

deserve to be cherished or glorified. For it is only a

precarious temporary refuge which does not guarantee man's

safety nor sustain his perpetuity.

Trying to assess the preceding treatment and views of the

concept of death in neo-classical poetry, one notices that

these attempts were apparently inspired by features which

are classical and medieval in their origin. The basic ideas

they revealed, the principles and perceptions about death

and life were formed in keeping with their sources of inspir­

ation. It is obvious that the ready-made picture of death in

classical and medieval poetry seems to have persisted as the

main feature in neo-classical compositions. For the image of

death remains as it was, revealing death as a dominant in­

exorable power observed through a totally pessimistic vi ew ­

point. This spontaneous or reflex subordination of the n eo­

classical poets to the spell which the classicists of their

language exercised on them, made it difficult for these

 ( 33 )

poets to free their attempts from the distinctive stamp and

influence of their predecessors.

As a matter of fact, death is still presented in neo­

classical elegiac works as a gigantic powerful will associat­

ed with^ h o s t i l i t y and evil. It is, likewise, an aggressive

^ force which seems to be essentially wicked, for it constant­

ly employs its power for the purposes of annihilation and

destruction. Moreover, death appears with the features of a

blind and chaotic will which is neither organized nor logical.

On the other hand, life appears or is described as in­

significant and trivial. This is because, as the neo-classic­

ists revealed, it does not possess the quality of permanence,

nor has the ability to safeguard or maintain man's content­

ment and safety. Consequently the immediate reaction to such

a state of desperation and apathy was manifested in neglect­

ing the virtues of life and doubting its goodness and glory.*

The purport of this view, one may add, consists in stressing

the dualism of life and death. No wonder, therefore, that the

neo-classicists persist in tackling each phenomenon exclusive­

ly by means of aggrandizing the power of death and belittil-

ing the worth of life. In other words, the two concepts had

been obviously perceived as two antipodes which can neither

be integrated nor lend themselves to the possibility of

* This notion, as it is hoped that the next chapter will show,

is further developed in the works of the romanticists.
 ( 34 )

constituting one complementary phenomenon. On the contrary

they sustain a constant and never-ending conflict. This

conventional viewpoint of the neo-classicists, one may

suggest, indicates a noticeable negligence of any existential

unity in creation. It, likewise, overlooks the consideration

that the phenomena of life and death may participate equally

in maintaining a complete and constant cycle which should

preserve the continuity of existence.*

* Such an approach becomes prominent in the works of the

romanticists.
 III. THE ELEGY RESTRICTED EXCLUSIVELY

TO THE DEATH OF INDIVIDUALS

In his book al-cUmda fi Mahasin ^1-Shi r , Ibn Rashiq al-

Qayrawani 390 (1000) / 463 (1070-1)*states that:

• i_.iiri.,n„ 1 1 j ( I j ( I j ( I t I

j 1jUL»Y I I £_« J ( J I2 1 A—j-P' 1

jj t t- i.i 1 I 2 j j t yjlaJ I i w 1 U .- .-N 1 j
(28) • ^ >■ I l-•» 11 ^ jlpj " 1^ jj ^ Lv^-J ( *„11

Poetry is based on four principles: desire, fear,

rapture and fury. Desire is associated with the
genre of eulogy and the expression of gratitude,
fear invokes poems of apology and attempts to
arouse sympathy, whereas rapture leads to express­
ions of longing and love poetry, and anger stimu­
lates satire, threats and effective reprimand.

Ibn Rashiq also quotes the following brief anecdote:

cAbd al-Malik b. Marwan is said to have addressed

the following question to Arta b. Suhayya:

'il ^ p *1 "V .? V Jk ^ L* d J J 1 y * J U k-J ? i 1 t 1

(29 ) * li)> I JLJkB ^.*.1 I1 L ■<^ Jf * 1 N J k-/j iw 1

*rrAbu cAli Hasan b. Rashiq al-Qayrawani, one of the most illus

trious men of letters of Ifriqiya, born at MPsila (Masxla=
Muhammadiyya) in the region of Constantine. Wishing to perfect
his knowledge and to take advantage of his poetic gifts, Ibn
Rashiq went to Qayrawan, then the capital of Ifriqiya and a
flourishing centre of culture, in 406/1015-6. In 410/1019, he
became court poet to al-Muc izz. He is the poet most skilled in
felicitously applying the theories and rules of Arabic poetry,
 ( 36 )

"Do you compose poetry these days?" said

6Abd al-Malik b. Marwan addressing Ibn
Su ha yy a. "I am not experiencing any joy
or anger, nor am I drinking or experienc­
ing any desire, and writing poetry is
ofLerr stimulated by one of these", answer-
"ecT Ibn Suhayya.

These are fragments of the classical theory of poetry, based

primarily on a particular understanding of emotions and their

role in stimulating poetic creativity. This theory which was

variably presented and discussed by classical and medieval

critics, seems to have left its distinct mark on the poetic

output of that time, or at least constituted the prevailing

guiddine or criterion. Examining the implication of the above

quotations, one can notice the connection being made between

poetic creativity and the specific moral and mental attitudes

from which a particular subject or theme of poetry stems.

Poetic inspiration, one may understand, was seen to be mo ti v­

ated exclusively by incidental events and immediate emotions

rather than derived from a sophisticated intellectual out­

look or deliberate meditation. This attitude is perhaps

behind the unmistakable tendency of dividing and even sub­

dividing poetic themes (aghrad *l-shi^r) according to the

various moral and mental attitudes that the poet goes through

in the process of his creation. One may become aware that

most of the poetic works of the classical and medieval eras

seem to have been meticulous depictions concerned with record-

so expertly expounded in his major work, al-cU m d a , which r e ­

mains the "basic" work for this kind of p o e t i c s .-*>

The Encyclopaedia of Isl am , III, London, 1971, p. 903-904.

 ( 37 )

ing contemporaneous events and incidents or important

occasions in daily life. Therefore a strong connection

between the process of a poem and its motive (the occasion)

had been established, and this seemed to constitute the

validity of the literary mood.

The elegy was not an exception. It was, likewise, a genre

which was motivated by an occasion, and this was the event

of death. The death which the elegy dealt with since its

earliest phase, one may notice, was often viewed as an u n ­

expected or a sudden incident, an incident which happened

to a particular person, at a particular time and within a set

of particular circumstances and milieu. Death, in this respect,

had been given the property of an isolated and independent

incident. In other words, the focus is, primarily, on the

death of a person or persons in particular. No wonder there­

fore that the elegy became a process of describing the sad

event of the death of an individual and the agonizing response

it creates.

Such characteristics or features, one must add, seem not

only to have dominated the theme in the early periods but have

continued to be the prevalent features of the elegy up to

the modern times. For the tendency to deal with death as an

independent event relating to an individual seems to persist

in neo-classical elegy works. This obviously indicates a

classical influence, and especially the influence of the

conventional poetic theories which succeeded in dictating

 ( 38 )

and totally imposing their principles throughout successive

phases of the development of Arabic poetry, that is to say

from the early classical period al-^Asr al-Jahili down to

the beginnings of neo-classicism at the turn of the twentieth

century. Among these theoretical principles which prevailed

is the inclination to write poetry within the framework of

specified, separate and exclusive themes or categories of

poetry, such as the classical and medieval critics had

specified. Ibn Rashiq in al- ^Umda tells us, for example that:

Q 1 1 y - b i£_J 1 t p l* l < j 1 |j M - < J

(30) *

Some scholars say that, poetry is based on

four pillars, (or major constituents):
eulogy, satire, love poetry and elegy.

And that:

dw*5L>«-J 1 J} p ^ J JUtJ 1 3 4j u j ^ 1 1 <-S L i f t ^

o 3^-t^ * O O- 0-^ f- * X - 1-5 1 3

O-— -• 0 3 ^-z 3 * jfS-StJ \ j j 1 j ur-2 1O-*
<L *S>vJ 1 ( y * 3 t * lb i~mj I ^ *—< l x * I I ^ ^ j J I ^ b f J I

J 1 I)1 J ( Ja^ 11 j I £ tj J

(31) •
 ( 39 )

The major constituents of poetry are: eulogy,

satire, wisdom, and diversion. From every one
of these major constituents other forms branch
out. Eulogy produces elegy, vainglorious poetry
and expressions of gratitude; satire provokes
derogation and reprimand; and from wisdom arise
proverbs, asceticism and exhortation; whereas
diversion stimulates love poems and depictions
of riding, hunting and drinking.

To fulfil the rules of prosody*, as Ibn Rashiq points out, the

poet had to maintain the independence of every genre, that is

to say sustain the particular distinction of each theme he

treated. One may perceive to what extent this criterion

propagated the principle of a division or, one might say,

partition of the literary mood, and almost disregarded the

wholeness of human perceptions and experiences. Examining the

impact of this conventional criterion on the elegy among the

neo-classicists, one may notice the total conformity to the

rules it stipulates. The sharp distinction between the poetic

themes, which the neo-classicists understood as a basic rule,

seemed to be faithfully adhered to, and persists in the bulk

of their poetry. No wonder therefore that they conceived of

the elegy as a theme which deals exclusively with one person's

death and does not allow the inclusion of further insights

into the experience of death as a constituent of life itself

or as a universal existential experience.

A survey of the elegies written by the neo-classicists may

bring to light the above mentioned prevailing perception of

 ( 40 )

the genre. It is a genre which seems to be motivated primari­

ly by incidents of death occuring regularly from time to time.

Moreover, the purpose of the poet writing the elegy was to

fulfil an inevitable and practically specified duty towards

the particular person who dies (32). In other words if the

mo ti ve >which is the incident of death,occurs, an elegy is

written, otherwise the theme may be neglected and writing on

death would be irrelevant. A commentary by Ilya al-Hawi may

throw light on this standpoint of the neo-classicists. Hawi

say:

The deficiency of these poets consists in

the fact that, they used to be motivated
by (specific) incidents and not by funda­
mental concepts. They did not realize that
the (casual) event itself could be a means
for provoking or occasioning a far-reach­
ing experience (33).

What makes all this seem obvious is that all the elegies

written by the neo-classicists appear invariably under titles

such as the following:

( * ♦ • H l n f j J JL9 J * * • CS— J-f.J ^ 3 )

"He said elegizing so-and-so (a name me nt io n­

ed) who died on such and such a date".

This meticulous reference to names and dates implies that

 ( 41 )

the elegy is written at a particular time, and on the occasion

of the death of a particular person. This is however the only

scope in which an experience of death is tackled, as far as

these poets understood the phenomenon of death as merely an

occasional event that casually needs to be recorded or dealt

with. Such a limited treatment, one may say, would certainly

minimize the dimensions of the experience of death and ove r­

look its universality and prevalence as an existential issue.

The notion of the generality or broadness of the experience

of death seemed to be rarely regarded or considered in neo­

classical works. Hawi comments:

all those (elegies) which had been devoted

to extolling particular persons and re cord­
ing their biographies might have been embodi ­
ed within the matrix of one comprehensive
poem with several parts that might encompass
a treatment of the experience of death on a
universal human le ve l, and treating of its
various aspects (34).

Another relevant observation on the elegies written by neo-

classicists draws attention to the fact that these elegies,

in general, seem to have dealt exclusively with the "dead"

and not with "death" as a concept. The elegy in this respect

turns to be a process devoted primarily to extolling the

attributes of the dead person or his accomplishments and

merits. Shawqi and Mutran, one may assert, are among the
 ( 42 )

representative neo-classical poets who show considerable

adherence to the duty of elegizing notable men of letters, or

in other words exercising their eloquence by extolling the

virtues and deeds of these notables. What follows are two

examples in point taken, respectively, from two elegies by

Shawqi and Mutran:

* I— I L— £ a-J t*S/ I V 1 ^

* 3 2yJbl>- 1.«■..!»— « I 1(J-* ^y~t ^ j* ^ ^ LT*

^ ( 3 5 ) P 1 I 'jA l b 1 cyZ U a iu J I t)J a ^ L * J I ^ j3t I I

Death^has cut off the life of a well-mannered man,

Whocjs attributes are but )the attributes of leaders.
H e ’had bright and handsome features,
Grey hair did not affect his appearance,
But simply enhanced his noble looks and grace.
His soul was chaste, and so was his deportment in life.
His manners were virtuous, so were all his desires.

And:

jl!S / I « J b U J t t I 2L> I t d -Sjc J 1 < _*> ■ J c j l I — « o J 1 1—0 “J O I* J -9

p
■k-k (35) **•<— '***^ ^ 3 A ur5-^ ^ AJ 3 ^ a 3 6 3 ^

* From an elegy dedicated to Mustafa Fahmi, the Egyptian prime

minister and politician in the twenties. . . > *
Hy ,
/V

** From an elegy written on the occasion of Niqola Toma's

d e a t h , >known as a scholar.
 ( 43 )

The man who was broad-minded, generous and

helpful, has died.
He who was the shelter of the people in need
and the supporter of the helpless.
He has died, (that man) who was honest in secret and
appearance.
Who was loyal in his presence and absence.

It is noticeable, that the depiction of the dead is often

assessed within a framework of praise. This praise, one may

. V add, is usually dedicated to a certain class of people who

}
usejd-to occupy important social or political pos it i on s* . In

this respect, the elegy seems to betray class consciousness

and discrimination**. A quick survey of the titles of the

elegies of Shawqi, RusafI or Mutran, for example, may provide

one with a list of well-known persons and pioneers who were

prominent in society in their day in the fields of politics,

literature, science etc.. (37). These figures, likewise, were

mostly distinguished with a particular status which was hi g h ­

ly regarded. The inclination to devote elegies to these

particular figures seemed to be enhanced by the assumption

* There are few exceptions to this general rule in elegies

written on the death of relatives and friends.

** Apropos of this Shawqi Dayf makes the following remark in

his book Shawqi Shakir a l - vAsr al-Hadith, p . 155:

L*-J ^ 11 ^^o b U * • * I^4 y j ^ ^ i*1* Lift wo ^ tS

jf*^ O ^ b Ij I ^^ b** Lf.
* iS-lfc 1jjt j p Loa JJ jS > L*—fO 15 Q 15 \ J I j | 1^ 1J*«■ Ml 1 I
 ( 44 )

that the elegy is intended for the purpose of praise, but

with the simple difference that the person who is praised

in an elegy is no longer alive. A glimpse at Ibn Rashlq's

criterion of what constitutes r i t h a 7 may appear relevant

and enlightening in this context. Ibn Rashiq says:

^ L j b 'k 1>UI AmJ I V J ^ I ^ 1-3^JmJ t

3 ^ ( O ^ Amm
r 1 ^ 1 J JLjJ
ft»i *1 |>. 1.U j (c ^ dq I:«jlp )
(38)

There is no distinction between the elegy

and the eulogy except that, in the elegy
a stylistic device helps to indicate that
the person in question is dead, like: (he
was) or (we missed such and such in him)
and something similar to make clear that
the person is dead.

The aspect of praise in the elegy, therefore, seems to have

turned it into a detailed statement that merely endeavours

to record the dead person's deeds as well as some biographic­

al data about him. This aspect is illustrated here by the

following verses from an elegy by Rusafl elegizing al-Husayn

b.*Ali the king of Hijaz:

' I (_j il* 1 IS ^ IS |m i X s

ft
tii II IS I

(39) 1*1 _«' — jn,^. 1 1L| J

 ( 45 )

He restored the ancient glory of the Arabs

Which was like an abandoned plant.
He animated the Arab renaissance that
Spread throughout the expanses like a blowing wind.
And, by a forceful struggle (lit. a struggle supported
by bl ood sh e d),
He managed to realize his people's rights.

As another device of praising the dead person, the poet,

if he does not directly record the dead man's accomplish­

ments, laments over the consequences of his loss. This is

illustrated again by the following two verses from another

elegy by RusafI elegizing his teacher Mahmud Shukri al-

AlusI:

l.h*. ) 1 JL| 1 JU U 1

(40) >.*nib.} 1 ^ ^ $ o * ^ o***

To whom did you abandon the educational and

the cultural pursuits?
Did you have no fear that decline might sweep over them?
Here are the institutions of learning (after your death)
Left empty of students, of books and of endeavour.

Shawqi also expresses his regret that so many benefits and

services are no more to be secured since the person who used

to offer them had died. He says elegizing his friend Husayn

Shirin who died in 1931:

 ( 46 )

<3w liS ^ I0**~"^& eJ-5 dJJ 1 6 1^-j t*X-;^

<J—<I-;O'1 ^ J1* ^^ 1 J} <3—L—.fc.I J-SV (j4 !■*-*J ^l_£ _J
(41) <3—jL*£ (3^- If-1*-*o*—4; |^ V*".1*?-<3 1t£ *J^ d _j

God always sees him in the darkness of the night

Persevering in prayer and in phrasing the Quran.
He (God) sees the orphans and the widows always at his door,
Always seeking help and shelter.
He (God) sees him fulfilling the dues and rights of others,
And forgetting only what is his own due.

An obvious influence of classical and medieval imagery and

framework could be easily traced in the selections from the

neo-classicists quoted above. A survey of representative

examples from the classical poets such as a l - K h an sa ’ , Layll

al-Akhyaliyya (lived in the second half of the first century

A.H), Abu Tammam and Buhturi 206 (82D-284 (892) may illumin­

ate the aspect of similarity between the previous examples

and their sources of inspiration. Here are two brief extracts

from the poetry of al-Khansa* elegizing her brother S a k h r :

jjjt - , j j 3j - l f i *t* j 3-i* j ^ J£ O ^

(42)

He was the shelter of every widow

And the supporter of those who are in need.
Their relatives used to receive his gifts,
Which were beneficial to those who are in
need and who are not.
 ( 47 )

And:

j lis 1 j i f j - i b j ^ J rt,"»'!i j? ' or*-5^ rt^.-*..*J

(43 ) j LSJ 1 2Lj>»kJ \ If.'ufc q Is AS U- j U- _?

j
Let the poor, who was passing through hard times 5
of wretchedness and poverty,
Cry for his death. /
Let his friends, who were lost and bewildered in
the desert of darkness,
Cry for his death.

And this is a brief extract from an elegy by Layla al-

Akhyaliyya devoted to her fellow-tribesman Tawba b. al-

Humayyir al-Khafaji, who, it was said,had once asked for her

hand but was refused by her father:

j ■« 1 1 £ ; ■ * " * » '• * 1 ) (v .^ -O Vs 3 LJ (>—' _ ^ ) L j __9 L j_ s

(44)

0 ’'Tawba", you were the man of the combat,

The man of generosity.
The man who rescued the lost whenever they sought
shelter and hospitality.
There were lots of troubled people whom you aided,
Lots of gifts which you offered,
And lots of favours’which you bestowed upon others
in preference to yourself.
 ( 48 )

Another example in point is taken from an elegy by Abu

Tammam written on the occasion of ^Umayr b. al-Walid's

death in 214 A.H , the governer of Egypt during al-Mu^tasim's

reign:

(45) J

0 ocean of death, you have engulfed

The ocean o f generosity in the year of famine.

The last example is taken from the verses of Abu Tammam's

younger contemporary al-Buhturi elegizing a notable man

called Abu Sa ‘id:

The one inhabiting the places of eminence

has passed away,
Thus these places are bereaved.
And the father of the poor died,
Thus they are orphaned.
He died, but he had (already) offered many
favours out of his generosity.
Thus they continue to show their gratitude.
 ( 49 )

Having examined the rather striking similarities between

the elegies of the neo-classicists and their medieval and

pre-Islamic predecessors, it would be reasonable to come to

the conclusion that the matrix of an elegy is but a framework

of praise devoted to a particular dead person who, in many

respects, seems to be an outstanding or distinguished

individual. The process of elegizing seems on the whole to

be an effort dedicated to recording the dead man's accomplish­

ments and deeds, that is to say recounting biographical data

about persons who are no longer alive. An examination of the

subject of death among the neo-classicists would lead one to

the conclusion that the neo-classicists were on the whole led

by the examples they tried to emulate., to a treatment of their

subject which has nothing to do with the concept of death in

its existential dimensions. The exclusive concern with

individuals denotes the fact that man, as a being independent

of name and identity and any particular traits or considera­

tions of personal status and attributes, did not acquire in

the elegies any remarkable significance, nor is his death

portrayed as an existential problem that may stimulate

intellectual questioning. There is little do ub t that the

standpoint of such a treatment in elegies distances the

attempt from its essential issue which is the issue of death

itself. In other words, the dead man's traits and accomplish­

ments which the poets persist in focusing on as appreciable

 ( 50 )

and unforgettable deeds steer their attempts to irrelevant

elements and prevent them from treating the very essence of

the phenomenon of death which is the main issue. r-

What is perhaps obvious in the light of all this is that

the neo-classicists were not able to achieve a wider focus

in terms of tackling the concept of death in their elegies.

They simply froze the elegy, so to speak, in the matrix of

the conventional framework of praise, and seem to have got

trapped within the narrow scope of viewing the whole issue

of death through the person or individual whose death prompt­

ed them at any time to write elegies. Therefore, they were

prevented from observing wider existential dimensions. These

existential dimensions, if they had been considered by the

poets might have turned the concept into a universal issue

that goes beyond the strict bounds of names, times and places.

The concept of death in this respect might have become an

issue that not only concerns the entire human race, but also

the whole of existence*.

k k k * * k

* This view, as will be shown in chapter IV,becomes eminent

in the works of the romanticists.
 IV. THE VOCIFEROUS TONE OF GRIEF

The loud expression of grief in the Arabic elegy, it must

be pointed out, is among the significant elements which

€ ^
distinguish^the genre since its early phase, when the elegy

was but a kind of primitive lament. The primitive lament

took the form of plaintive declamations made in a form of

rhymed prose, (sa j * ). ( Abd ul1 a al-Muhanna, however, points

out apropos of this subject that

the saj 6 cries gave way first to short

metric verses consisting of a few lines,
and occasionally also to some longer
raj az songs, which then gradually grew
into the fully developed marthiyya
(elegy) with the variety of metres and
artistic forms of the qasida poems (47).

One must add also, that the early elegies of the classicists

were mostly a vivid display of agony intended to fulfil the

conventional duty of mourning, as "burying somebody without

a lament was regarded as a disgrace and an insult to him"(48).

Ibn al-Athir in his book al-Kamil fI *1-Tarlk h, for example,

reports the death of Kulayb b. Rabija during the Basus war

in the pre-Islamic era, and refers to the lamentation which

 ( 52 )

was performed for him. He says:

When Kulayb's death was announced,(his

people) set out to bury him, and when
the burial was carried out they start­
ed tearing their clothes and scratch­
ing their faces, whereas the maidens
and the ladies proceeded to perform
(their part) in the obsequies (49)*.

There is little doubt that Ibn al-Athir's fragment provides

us with an important document concerning the traditional

and conventional ceremonies of obsequies which were constant­

ly practised during the pre-Islamic period. A survey of

examples of classical elegy may throw further light on this

piece of information given to us by Ibn al-Athir. Moreover,

they may show that the conventional lamentation was a

manifest expression of grief enhanced by certain utterances

and a c t s .

The greater part of the lament, however, was performed by

women who were supposed to make a sufficient contribution to

the display of grief by means of dropping their veils, tear­

ing their clothes, beating their chests and putting on a

general show of lamentation by yelling and crying (50). The

following two examples give a clear picture of the tradition­

al lament. A l - K ha ns a; thus says on the occasion of the death

of her brother Sakhr:

• \*JJ jjj A-*—) I (Jj-S I^jaJ 1 IC IjJ £ j 1S J * 1 ^

 ( 53 )

^ Law 3-J %
ntrf* Iw

3 J-^ 3 V > ^ ! ^ ^ C"4-*— "-s

0 "Safiyya", let's join the women

Who*are (gathered) under the heat of the sun
And who do not seek the shade.
Here they are tearing their clothes,
Knowing that their suffering is worthy of
being sustained
For the sake of such a dead one.

Another per-Islamic poetess Amina bint^Utayba, likewise, says

on the occasion of the death of her father Utayba b. al-

Hlrith b. Shihab:

We went in the afternoon to al -La* ba 9

Before the sunset.
Where the women were tearing their clothes
And lamenting Ibn Mayya.

This sketchy presentation of the element of lamentation in

the early examples of the elegy may shed some light on the

formulation and final standardization of the genre. The over­

whelming vociferous display of grief and sorrow over the dead,

 ( 54 )

one may say, was seemingly a necessary conventional ceremony

reflecting specific customs which, in many respects, have

direct connections with the particular time and milieu of

the classicists.

The simple fact that the classical elegy represented the

pre-Islamic age and its spirit and culture, is an aspect

which does not seem to have been grasped by the neo-classic­

ists. They seem to have been primarily preoccupied with

reviving their pr ede ce sso rs ’ modes of composing elegies in

their original framework regardless of the circumstances

appertaining to the age in which the elegy first made its

appearance. What seems obvious is that this adoption of the

old elegy borrowed with it at the same time even the vocifer­

ous expressions of grief and the complete "accoutrement" of

the ancient lament. In other words, the doleful tones of

mourning that distinguished the classical elegy still exist

in the neo-classical treatment of this genre. Rusafi, for

example, evokes the ancient picture of the classical lament

in the following verses cited from an elegy dedicated to two

young pilots who died in an aeroplane crash.It would be noticed

that he introduces the clamourous "performance" of weeping,

wailing, tearing of clothes and beating of chests, or, in

this case, of cheeks. He writes:

^ 1^ l^>J 1 Ifw Cm * H j Lu c^iaj> jlsLJ

(53) * Li«> ! 1 I ! j (J 1>j ^ I J i I Cfc.Si^4
* j
 ( 55 )

The lamentation occasioned by your death was great.

Both the noble (lit.free) women and the slaves
took part in it *.
The men's clothes have been rent open,
And the women's cheeks have been repeatedly beaten.

The imitation which the neo-classicists were driven to5did

not sound or feel genuine, as was to be expected. It amounts

to imagery that tends to be over-exaggerated or a mere

exercise in hyperbole. Trying to elegize Mustafa Kamil, the

Egyptian national leader who died in 1908, Shawqi, for

example, resorted to this imagery of the classical lament

which goes beyond the borders of reality. He says:

Jj-J IjJ 1 J (jr* U o \— tiLjJp ^ \

q U j> J 1 2 O-iJ-1 ^ cr5 o i..mi 1 j t>v»vJ 1 (jJ 1

(54 ) yfj ' £-*->-1 Lj ttLzS- i J J-5 Li* *d^k-uJ <"■^ ~

The East and the West are weeping for your death.
Both of them (the far and the near) are in mourning.
When the news of your death was conveyed to al-Hij a z ,
Sorrow afflicted the pilgrims
And the Holy Places were shaken.
Women tore their clothes in grief.
And young maidens were in tears.

* It is interesting to note how this dogged attempt by the neo-

classicists to imitate the ancients, makes Rusafi use such a
cliche6 as the free and slave women referring to a phenomenon
which no more existed in his time and milieu.
 ( 56 )

What Shawqi displays in these verses is almost a performance of

a fanciful depiction which scarcely approaches any form of

reality. His attempt is solely concerned with an exaggerated

interaction between the incident of death and other alien

elements like: the East and the West, the Holy Places, pilgrims

etc... In other words, the preoccupation with these convention­

al descriptions, one may say, seems to be an inconvenient

employment of inadequate tools which, at the same time, have

nothing to do with the profound essence of sadness that could

be, in many respects, an internalised feeling unaccompanied

by any external demonstrations of grief. Here is another

example from Shawqi that seems to show the same tendency of

indulging the fantasy in what is primarily a highly convention­

alized and classical treatment of the elegy. The element of

hyperbole in the description, and often in bad taste, is

ap parent:

C. Liul^we ** '■* ■“ '1 ^ L ^ i A 4 I <) t-I

(5 5 ) ^ ^ lit t**.i
ji
*...: jls I1 ^

* From an elegy written on the occasion of Riyad Pasha's death,

see note p. 25 above.
 ( 57 )

When his death had been sadly announced

The stars were startled in the spheres
And seemed faint and disconcerted.
As if the sun had been announced dead to them.

Likewise, Rusafi inclines to involve himself with exaggerat­

ed imagery in expressing emotions of sadness and regret,

which lead him to build a fanciful structure that almost

exceeds all reasonable bounds. The following verses, cited

from an elegy dedicated to Mahmud Shukri al-AlusI, are a

good example in point:

V lyk dJu I jf-t 1 Ij i ■■■ : ■% (jj j 1o 1

Ij J J ii) U - L » £ * + \ j rt ^ j d_ U \ t <" « J 1 ^ o

*(56) V U

* One can see in this and the preceding examples the obvious
influence of classical and medieval poetry:

0 i*
IfJ l^jJj I rt I 11i■"9 ^4 I
11c d k J d jLmAS vd >jiJ i d 'j j

al -Kh an sa ? , Anis al-Julasa*, p . 75

When he was killed, the mountains collapsed

And the earth shook.
The planets vanished,
And the sun seemed veiled.
 ( 58 )

1J>i«M.
*>I I* J tiiS.i\m
j - . n d ip ^ I u j

al-Khansa , I b i d , p. 36

The sun was eclipsed for his death,

And the moon did not complete its course.
When his death was announced,
Even the wild animals were indulging in deep sorrow.

1d) J ^ C* Laaw^ di ha. ^

~*• j <1^ > lj 1J ■

rt I ^ l**J I JUti? y(J Jh*wJ 1 ^

Diwin A b i ’l-Tayyib al-MutanabbI, e d :*AzzIm, *Abd al-Wahhab,

1944, Cairo,*p.64

The mourners proceeded with his funeral, altogether shocked.

Like Moses when he was shocked on the mountain of T u r .
In the heart of the sky the sun seemed pallid,
Whereas the earth was disturbed and nearly shook from
side to side.

I ^ L C^1h ■*1 J ) dmmmmt 1 I C5"M«^ ^ ^ ^

J 3* 3 cr3 ftoj'*-'. 3 cy* j lt3 *3^J

Diwan al-B uh tur i, p . 104

On the day of Abu Kahlan's death,

Everybody felt the weight of the disaster.
They saw the sun darken in the day.
And saw the moon at night disappear.
 ( 59 )

When the announcement of your death reached Egypt,

The Sphinx knelt down in awe at its gravity.
And when it reached Mecca (lit.the House of God, i.e.the Ka ba)
There seemed to be the trembling of an earthquake,
Whereas the Euphrates and Tigris
Became two streams of tears rolling down the cheeks of Iraq.

Comparing the neo-classical method of displaying grief for

the dead with that of the classical and medieval poets may

show the persisting tendency among the neo-classicists to try

and emulate the classical patterns. But in the light of the

examples given above, one may say that this imitation often

betrays a lack of genuineness and originality. What the neo-

classicists depict is by no means related to their time and

experience, nor connected with traditions or popular customs

and ceremonies in their own time and milieu.

The classical form of the lamentation with its clamourous

display of grief was genuine, or at least, corresponded to

conventional or traditional ways of commiseration. The di s ­

play of grief was perhaps simply a reflection of ancient

social customs perpetuated in a particular period. Consider­

ing that poetry ought to be a true reflection of immediate

and genuine feelings and experiences, the classical poets

seem to have succeeded in transmitting a significant aspect

of their social life and environment, which we find authentic­

ally preserved in their poetic productions.

But when, after the passage of long periods of time, the

neo-classicists tried to recreate a similar atmosphere, the

 ( 60 )

endeavour was apt to be bereft of any vital impulse and

become merely a lifeless form of versification. The imitation,

perhaps, mirrors the traditional framework but by no means

reflects a profound insight into, and expression of genuine

and immediate experiences in modern times.

The resort of the neo-classicists to clamorous tones of

grief in their elegies might be interpreted as a tendency to

stereotype grief in terms of traditional imagery, and an

overt attempt at exaggeration, and all in order to affect the

reader in the customary, or better say the expected manner.

This tendency, it may be said, turns the elegy into a hollow

poetic structure consisting of heaps of accumulated and

bizarre expressions that scarcely communicate the sincerity

of human emotion towards a dead person.

In brief, the compositions of the neo-classicists in the

elegy genre were invariably trite repetitions of cliches

perhaps associated with mourning which by no means reflect

the p o e t s ’ experiences or time. These compositions remain

quite obviously an expression in a highly conventionalised

form of a general response to an occasion of grief. It is

no facetious remark to say that any one elegy could fit or

suit all occasions of death. In this respect, the neo-classic

al elegy can best be described as an all-size suit that fits

all occasions and serves the purposes of all poets.

k k k k k
 V. PHILOSOPHICAL AND SPECULATIVE

ELEMENTS

Philosophical and speculative elements about death can

often be spotted in the poetry of the neo-classicists*, and

these are primarily confined to the notion of the human

soul, its destiny and its state after death. This notion

seems to be manifested in three main ways. The first can

perhaps be described as a spontaneous or automatic exposition

of Islamic ideas derived primarily from Quranic doctrine and

the prophet Muhammad's teaching. Islamic doctrine, as is well

known teaches that the human soul is made immortal by the

will of God. Death, as far as this doctrine is concerned, is

the gateway which guides the human soul to either paradise

or hell in accordance with the work of a human being in his

1 ife-time.

The second aspect of the neo-classicists' treatment of this

subject, however, betrays signs of misgivings concerning the

inherited religious doctrine. The poetry of the two Iraqi

* The philosophical and speculative contemplations about death

in neo-classical poetry not only find their expression within
the framework of the elegy, but also constitute other exclusive
poems, especially those written by Zahawl and Rusafl.
 ( 62 )

poets Zahawl and Rusafi in particular seems to evoke a clear

tone of doubt and even denial against the dogmatic beliefs

which are imposed by religion, such as the belief in the

immortality of the human being's soul and the possibility of

reward or punishment which might affect the soul after death(57).

The third treatment of this subject seems to reflect an

attitude of a compromising mind that almost moulds faith with

doubt, and conformity with vacillation. It is simply a moderate

standpoint which often adopts the method of raising metaphysic­

al dilemmas and questions, probably to hint at the ignorance

and bewilderment which the human intellect cannot escape. The

endeavour, however, was merely confined to raising questions,

but never to suggest an answer or provide an explanation.

Because the elegy is conceived of as a process of praise

devoted to a dead person, the poet was invariably inclined to

regard the dead person with the eye of uncompromising sympathy,

and to see him as a representative figure of all goodness. Bear­

ing in mind the doctrine of the divine reward which God bestows

upon the righteous souls, the poet frequently hints that the

men who have led a good life will be rewarded with unbounded

felicity in heaven after they depart the earthly life. No

wonder therefore that the elegy often portrays death as a door

through which the souls of good and virtuous men proceed to

ultimate happiness, or an ascent to the sublime abode of glory

and total contentment. What is also obvious is that the images

 ( 63 )

of paradise which appear in elegies are almost identical with

those depictions mentioned in the Quran. Elegizing Muhammad

*Abd al-Muttalib who was known as a"lecturer and poet, Shawqi

portrays his death as an ascent to a world of bliss and u n ­

bounded pleasures: ripe fruit, exqusite wine and sacred echoes

of music and poetry that yield ecstasic delight. He says:

u>iaJ f ^ *—■* 'I j I.:i) .1 1>J I<^ i)f> p-9

id (t% m t ^ ■i* ^ i, 1^ ^ iif—^ ^ ^

(58) *.'"■fa.rf'i**-,) If^j-3 jjfS A,,)L ^ S iS ^ _J* *»'■■■«*^ £

Tell us about the abode of eternal life

in His kingdom.
(About) the grace and wonder of creation.
The fruits in the meadows of green corundum,
And the wine in gold pitchers.
0 Radwan (the angel guard of paradise) have a flute
And chant rhymes of poetry.

In another elegy devoted to Salama Hijazi who was known as an

actor and singer, Shawqi resorts to depicting a clamourous

party in which most of the dead musicians seem to gather in

heaven, apparently to perform one of their concertos:

J *>. 11 ■ * £ I >irt. 11 ^1^5™—J 1 ( j lip d L»th Lu 1

d^g.ii.' i I ^vi-! j J L JLt>- 1 Jul>J 1 ^

(59) ^^*. rtij*> I* * ii......i.& j j.iji^. «)I rt.,1^

 ( 64 )

(I wonder) how our brothers are there,

On the banks of the river Ka wt h er ,
Where the soft breeze (of h e a v e n ) blows.
How is Ahmad's play on the lute,
And Amin's on the flute?
Paradise is but joy and a feast of rejoicing (1 it.wedding).
Tell me, how i s ‘Uthman and Hamuli?*

Going through the imagery of paradise cited above, one perhaps

cannot mistake the predominant tendency to portray sensual

pleasures which do not only seem to please the taste, the

sight and the hearing, but are also conceived of as the

ultimate satisfaction which the human soul might attain. The

conceptions about the manifestations of felicity in heaven

and the human s o u l ’s delight in its final abode seem to be

portrayed as a part of an inherited legacy that should be

treated with considerable reserve. This endeavour on the part

of the poets betrays a form of constant subordination to

religious culture, and an interest in repeating what the

common people unanimously believed in, or upheld as sacrosanct

Their elegies, one may assert, are the product of a mentality

which could not escape the habit of repetition, and which seem

ed incapable of introducing fresh intellectual arguments or

speculations.

Opposed to this trend of thought dominated by religious bias

* Ahmad and Amin were known as musicians, w h e r e a s £Uthman and

Hamuli were two Egyptian singers.
 ( 65 )

was an attitude of rejection and doubt which first becomes

prominent in the works of Zahawi and Rusafi. The purport of

Zahawi's view about the destiny of the human soul after death

consists in the belief that the human soul goes only through

one life which is the earthly life. Death is the final destiny

after which the soul turns to nothingness. "I have doubts1',

says Zahawi, "however much my ears are filled with promises

(of eternity) or threats of punishment". "Don't trust the

prevalent beliefs", is another protest raised by Zahawi

apparently against the dogmatic beliefs and the authority they

exercised over the minds and thoughts of people. "These

beliefs", as Zahawi puts it with apparent confidence "are not

right". This is made clear in the following four verses which

seem to begin with an expression of doubt and uneasiness

about the possibility of the soul's resurrection, and end

with the assertion that "the earth will eat up all living

beings, the happy and the miserable alike":

I do not know if we will proceed to

nothingness after we die
Or to eternal life.
 ( 66 )

I am in doubt, however much they (the people) fill my ears

With what they believe to be promises or threats.
0 mind, never trust (the views) of the masses.
Because their belief is not right.
The earth will eat up every living being
And never spare the miserable nor the happy.

Among other prevalent doctrines which Zahawi seems not to

have believed in, is the view which stipulates that the soul

descended from an elevated station to the earthly body.

Contrary to this view, Zahawi declares that:

£ - iI tO-* o 1 "■ — Is 1
(52) (j '"" y , tl w-* 3 ^ ;

The soul did not descend upon me from the lofty station.
It is but a germ that originated with me.

It is perhaps convenient while examining Zahlwl's views about

metaphysical phenomena, especially those which have close

affinity to the notion of the human soul and its states after

death, to mention his long poem Thawra f i ’l-Jahim "Revolution

in Hell". With an accent which cannot be described as anything

but ironical, Zahawi, throughout this work which constitutes

a poetic fantasia, portrays sceneries of paradise and hell to

which he imagines that he is transported after death. Because

of his doubts concerning the possibility of resurrection and

 ( 67 )

concerning other pillars of religion, the angels of death

drive him to hell to sustain the punishment he deserves. In

hell, he finds that all the people who have been prosecuted

are the people of great intellectual abilities and genius,

figures such as poets, thinkers and philosophers. Trying to

escape this "unfair” judgment, the inhabitants of hell

declare a revolution against the angels and the inhabitants

of paradise who are described as "the simple-minded" or "the

idiotic". With the aid of the devils' forces, the inhabitants

of hell succeed in the end to obtain victory up.oh the angels

forces and occupy paradise after expelling "the simple-mind­

ed" and "the idiotic" from it (62).

Examining Thawra f i ’l-Jah im, one perhaps cannot mistake

Zahawi's view about resurrection and the possibility of reward

or punishment after death. However implicit his opinion was,

it is obvious that he regards these matters with an eye of

doubt and uncertainty if not total scorn and levity.

Like Zahawi, Rusafi reveals intelligible signs of misgivings

and doubt about the inherited doctrine concerning the soul and

resurrection after death. He seemingly does not agree with

what is imposed by the authority of the creed. Rusafi's d is­

approval concerns two notions. First, he objects to the

doctrine which stipulates that the human soul descended from

heaven, and that because it has a divine essence it will

ascend again to its sublime station after death*. Contrary to

* This doctrine is made clear by Ibn Slna, especially in his =

 ( 68 )

this view, Rusafi believes that the soul is born from the

earth. In this respect, its essence is earthly and not heaven ­

ly. Thus the soul will never ascend towards the heavenly abode

after death. In his words:

(63) f J I If " ;* ^ p 1 ^ 0~* P 3

It (the soul) did not descend from the sky (lit.the

green l a nd ).
But God created it from the earth (lit.the dusty land).

And:

(64 ) p U — !J ^O ^ 3 ^3 *^3 ^ O * c*— J 3

I am not like the ancients who, under delusion, said that

The soul ascends skywards.

Second, Rusafi boubts that the soul will sustain another form

of existence after death. Death in his opinion will be both of

= well known poem which begins with the verse:

^. 1 *.■»Z 2 jj*-' C * l j p 1 5 ^ ^ o - ^ ' ■h- . ; 0'

It descended upon thee from the lofty station (heaven);

A dove rare and uncaptured.
Trans: G u c k i n , De Slane, Ibn
Khallikan's Biographical Dic ti o na r y, p.443
 ( 69 )

the body and the soul. But he seems to be a little bit cautious

about advocating this opinion. Therefore he assumes that, even

if the soul undergoes a kind of existence after death, it will

be then unconscious of itself. In his words:

( 65 ) f-9J Z ^ 3 f o A 3

I do not think that the soul will abide

When the body perishes.
Its existence might be probable,
But it will be an unconscious existence.

One should point out in this context that the views of Zahawi

and Rusafi about the soul and its states after death are, to

a certain extent,hasty sketches of views which portray a state

of bewilderment and restlessness of mind, but surely do not

constitute a concrete or characteristic philosophy of life.

When Zahawi advocates that he does not "trust the prevalent

beliefs because they are not right", and when Rusafi says that

he does not think that "the soul will have eternal life", they

simply object to,and disapprove of the prevalent dogmatic

creed,with an unmistakable tone of irony and scorn. But u n ­

fortunately, they do not suggest any plausible alternative

that might constitute a distinct body of thinking.

 ( 70 )

Besides manifesting doubts, which are both bold and u n ­

compromising, Zahawi and Rusafi sometimes resort to revealing

their doubts by means of simply raising metaphysical questions.

These questions, one may notice, were not meant to lead to in­

tellectual controversy or stimulate further elucidation, as

much as they were meant to point out more closed doors or

enigmas and riddles (66). It is, one might say, an attitude

which betrays a considerable degree of uncertainty or un­

easiness of mind, and which seems to be incapable of provid­

ing any satisfactory answers. And in the end there is nothing

that remains but ultimate ignorance, as Ruslfi puts it:

^ ^ 1 **l i■*» I w J I ^J n iIj 1 I i1 I J

j L Lu : 1 ftj 1 ^1 O'”* 1

(Man's) mind is restrained by a veil,

Thus it is confined to little knowledge
Concerning the essence of life.
We all proceed before this veil
To say with great eagerness
What is behind you, 0 veil?

The notion of man's ignorance or the limitation of his

perceptions seems to be frequently resorted to by the

neo-classicists when dealing with metaphysical problems

such as the problem of life and death. The prevail­

ing thesis which seems to appeal to the neo-

 ( 71 )

classicists, and seems to constitute, in a way, the trend

of their thought consists in the motto that man knows n o ­

thing. He does not know what or where he was before life, nor

can he speculate to what or to where he will proceed. It is,

however, a vicious dilemma which seems only to invoke more

exclamations and questions:

1 Lj Q-J 1 1

iJ <_yJ I Jyrj o-* j J3

(6 8 ) ? • U 1 L*J

From where, from where o my beginning?

And to where, o my destiny (lit.my end)?
Is it from nonexistence to existence,
Then from existence to nonexistence?
I proceed from one darkness to another,
So what is before me, and what is behind me?!

And:

What is beyond the grave to aspire to?

And is there a further expanse
After we cross the bridge?

Zahawi stands perplexed before the eternal dilemma.

 ( 72 )

He says:

^y. I» *>« (jJ ^ <_5— — ) 1 IlHfft*J 1

(70) S?---------^ c-9^ft V J T UJ

I thought of my distant past and my future,

But I could not know my future nor my beginning!

Because man's knowledge about metaphysical phenomena such as

death is restricted and vague, the attempt at some surmise

or supposition as an answer to the dilemma are not uncommon.

Rusafi, for example, says:

(71) b o I d^5L*w 0“* .ft d—*—i^ 1I d J aJ

Man's life is perhaps a dark night that

Might be cleared by the dawn of death.

But this groggy faith of Rusafi in the resurrection of the

human soul seems to collapse quickly under the burden of his

doubts. No wonder that he resorts, in another poem, to a total­

ly ironical tone when portraying the ascent of the soul sky­

wards :

(72) 1t ! If*-! ! !*j ! IiUxJ ^ mm 11 o ^

 ( 73 )

If the soul should ascended towards heaven (lit.sky)

It would be comely if the shimmering stars
Were to become its abode.

Unlike Zahawi and Rusafi, Shawqi, while attempting to raise

metaphysical questions concerning the destiny of the soul

after death, appears to be generally reserved. This is in all

likelihood to avoid involvement with misgivings or doubts.

Thus his questionings almost denote the attitude of a submiss­

ive mind,rather than denoting disaffection or JJoubt. He says:

O Lk.*. J 1 IViI*>ClJ « '1 (iw

? 31 11 ^ ? L^j Iju i ^
Vr(7 3 ) ^ ^ IkXJ I ( ^j >«_J 1) ,_J—Lfc Q Lb*1 }

0 captive of the tomb,

Prolong your discourse about death to me.
Thus knowledge (lit.wisdom) may be imparted to me.
May I ask you what is death? What sort of cup is it?
What is its taste? And who passes its cup around?
And do the souls proceed to (an abode) of peace
Like a dove which alights on the Holy Place?

Interestingly, S h aw qi 1s questions sometimes tend to proceed

further and turn to enquiries about the essence of the human

soul, its relation to the body after death, and whether it

longs for the abandoned body after her departure or not:

* From an elegy written on the occasion of Riyad Pasha's death.

See footnote p . 25
 ( 74 )

L>J \ L t^ J L J \ j if- /b 1 ^y.i » w <i. L i J <i .< i i-K»

* ( 7 4 ) ? U J 1 dJ L J s j^ ( jJ I ^ ^ ■'" **‘ * >i.«-..» a * . ) 1 jj/ - * '—' _j

(0 dead person), tell us how the soul departs its body.

And how the decay consumes the abandoned body.
Does the soul long for it (the body) after departure,
Like the traveller who longs for his home?

Examining these sketchy questions of Shawqi about the states

of the soul after death, one perhaps cannot mistake the

influential spirit of Muslim philosophy, especially the

influence of Ibn S i n a ’s doctrine of the soul**. But one can­

not claim that Shawqi shows a thorough understanding, or a

keen interest in Ibn S i n a ’s doctrine. His verses about this

subject seem to appear at random in the context of his elegies,

and scarcely portray glimpses of such philosophical thoughts.

There is, one may add, another distinguishing characteristic

of Shawqi's meditation which has a close connection with

his reserve. It is the tendency to provide the common­

place answers to the metaphysical questions raised. These

answers usually betray an attitude of automatic acceptance of

the tenets of his faith. The following verses are an illustra­

tion of Shawqi's resort to the traditional explanations of the

* From the elegy Shawqi wrote in 1914 on the occasion of the

death of the well-known, scholar, novelist and h is to ri an ,JurjI
Zay d an .

** See footnote p. 67-8 above.

 ( 75 )

questions concerning the soul and its destiny after death:

c ,U jj \ us
o L j J I j s ^ l j I U S j a_____ J l B

(75) 3 IJ1 4j^>jlSj: V 1a_.& ^ *1 f" -

**"■* ^^ ^ 2

Does the soul abide, or, as some people say, perish

Like the bones and the remains of the body?
God, blessed be his name, makes it die,
Then He revives it like a plant being revived.
He (God) will grant the soul the reward of the
peaceful abode,
And a life that is never marred by any harm.

The views of the neo-classicists concerning the soul and

its destiny after death, do not at all seem to be presented

within the framework of a concrete philosophy, nor do they

appear characterized with any particular aspects that can be

seen as outstanding or distinctive. Their attitudes are but

a diverse collection of viewpoints which seem wanting in

harmony and consistency. These views, one notices, vary and

even contradict each other. Sometimes signs of an uncompromis

ing disapproval and doubt of religious tenets and the cultur­

al legacy seem to prevail. Sometimes the tone of submission

to received and popularly accepted views seems to predominate

Besides these diverse ways of thinking, one can spot attempts

at raising metaphysical questions, an approach which usually-

 ( 76 )

denotes a moderate standpoint. These questions either tend to

reveal the ignorance and limitation of the human perceptions

about metaphysical phenomena, or appear to introduce ready­

made answers derived from the religious and cultural legacy.

Meditation and speculation about death in neo-classical poetry

one may finally assert, are but reflections of a superficial

approach, repetitive of traditional modes of thought, and show

ing total conformity to inherited conventions of writing

poetry and of thinking.

 FOOTNOTES TO CHAPTER I

^1
(1) Goldzihers, J. Nemith, "Mulahazat*A1a al-Marathi al-
*Arabiyya", Trans: al-Muhanna,A , Ijawliyyat Kulliyyat al-
Insaniyyat, N o . 5, 1982, Qatar, p. 153, (Mulafrazat) ;
Dayf, Shawqi,al- Ri th a 9 , Cairo, 1955, p . 7, (Ritha-*)

(2) Al-Muhanna, A,"Notes on_Ancient Arabic Consolation and

Lamentation", Dirasat fi al-Adab wa al -L u gh a,K u w a i t ,1976,
p .55,6 (N o t e s ) ; Mu la ha za t,p .154 ; Dayf, Shawqi, al- cAsr
al-J a h i l I , Cairo, I960, p. 207, ( fA g r )

(3) Al-Nuwayhi, M, al-Asr al-Jahili, vol:II, Cairo, (n.d),

p. 649, ; Bint ’1-Shati* ,al-Khansa 5 ,Cairo, 1957

(4) Sheikho, Louis, Anis al-Julasa* fi Diwan al-Khansa1 ,B e ir ut ,

1889, (Anis)

(5) Al-Tabrizi, al-Khatib, Sharh al-Mufaddaliyyat,vol:I I I ,

Damascus, 1972, p . 1682-1694

(6) Al-Asbahani, Abu al-Fara], Kitab al-Aghani, vol:VX, Bulaq,

1868; p . 139-141

(7) Diwan al-Ru§afi, e d : cAli, Mustafa, Baghdad, v o l :I , 1972,

p . 162

(8) Al -Sh awqiyyat, Vol.Ill, Cairo, 1970, p. 38, (Shawqiyyat)

(9) I bi d , p . 55

(10) Diwan Abu a l - fAtahiya, ed: Sheikho, Louis, Beirut, 1909,

p.29

(11) Al-Tabrizi, al-Khatib, Sharh Diwin Abi Tammam, ed:*Azzam,

M .A , V o l :I V , Cairo,’ 1965, p.40

(12) Al-Ma^arri, Abu a l - tfA l a ? , S a q f ?l-Zand, ed: Rida, N,Beirut,

1965, p.Ill , (S a q t )

(13) Sh awqiyyat, Vol.Ill, p.69

(14) Diwan, p.43

(15) Diwan al -Ru sa fi, p. 85

 ( 78 )

(16 Shawqiyyat, III, p.46

(17 Ibid, p . 32

(18 Diwan, p . 165

(19 Shawqiyyit, III, p.Ill

(20 Diwan Abu al-cAtahiya, p .51

(21 Ibid, p. 97

(22 Saqt, p.Ill

(23 Ibid, p.256

(24 Diwan, p . 95,6

(25 Shawqiyyit, III, p . 150

(26 Ibid, p . 104

(27 Ibid, p. 29

(28 Ed: cAbd al-Hamid, M. Muhyi *1-Din, I, Cairo, 1963,

p. 120, (c U m d a )

(29 Ibid, Loc.cit

(30 Ibid, Loc.cit

(31 Ibid, p . 121

(32 Juha, Michael, Khalil Mutran, Beirut, 1981, p.209-10

(33 Hawl, Ilya, Khalil Mutran, Beirut, 1978, I, p. 28

(34 Ibid, Loc.cit

(35 Shawqiyyat, III, p . 5,6

(36 Diwan Khalil Mutran, Beirut, 1967, I, p . 282

(37 Shawqi Shacir al-CAsr, p . 155

(38 cUmda, p . 147

(39 Diwan, p. 221

 ( 79 )

(40) Ibid,p.159

(41) Shawqiy yat , Vol.Ill, p.33, 4

(42) A n i s , p. 32

(43) I b i d , p. 28

(44) I b i d , p . 110

(45) D i w a n , p. 56

(46) D i w a n , Beirut, 1962, VoliII, p . 101

(47) N o t e s , p. 56

(48) Ibid

(49) Vol:I, Leiden, 1899, p. 388

(50) R i t h a 7 , p . 12, A s r , p . 207

(51) A n i s , p .67

(52) Cheikho, Louis, Riyad al-Adab fi Marathi Shaw afir a l - fA r a b ,

Beirut, 1897, p. 105,6

(53) D i w a n , p. 237

(54) Shawqiyy at , Vol.Ill, p. 109

(55) I b i d , p.43

(56) D i w a n , p .75

(57) Hilal,*Abd al-Razzaq, al -Zahawi, Cairo, 1976, p . 156-9,

Hawi, Ilya, Ma^ruf al-Rusafi, Vol.I, Beirut, 1978,
p . 77 , 78, 81 , (R u g a f i )

(58) Shawq i yy at , Vol.Ill, p. 37

(59) I b i d , p . 138,9

(60) Diwan Jamil Sidqi al-Zahawi, Dar al-^Awda, Beirut, 1972,

p. 628, 9

(61) I b i d , p.644

(62) See D i w a n , p . 710-739

 ( 80

(63) Diwan, p . 120

(64) Ibid, p . 112

(65) Ibid, p . 119

(66) Ruslfl, p . 69,70

(67) Diwan, p. 91

(68) Ibid, p . 60

(69) Ibid, p . 109

(70) Diwan, p. 659

(71) Diwan, p . 109

(72) Ibid, p. 92

(73) Shawqiyyat, III, p.45

(74) Ibid, p . 127

(75) Ibid, p.46

 CHAPTER II

THE CONCEPT OF DEATH IN ROMANTIC POETRY

I. THE ROMANTIC MOVEMENT IN ARABIC POETRY :

ITS BACKGROUND AND FEATURES

The romantic movement in Arabic poetry seems to have

developed within the circumstances of the era of r e vi va l,

which had begun by the early decades of this century. The

efforts of the neo-classicists, which aimed at reviving

Arabic poetry from the stagnation of the era of decadence,

can be considered as a preparatory step which led to the

appearance of successive literary currents afterwards (1).

The factors that contributed to the flourishing of neo-

classicism in Arabic literature gradually developed a vit al ­

ity which gave the impetus to the appearance of new trends,

and particularly, at the outset, the romantic trend.

Within the general atmosphere of revolutionary political

and social movements, which permeated the Arab world from

the beginning of the century up to the forties, new literary

concepts and principles began to appear and manifested.

The new generation of poets which wrote in the twenties

and thirties started, in the words of M.M Badawr, to be

’’aware of the fact that they were living in a period of great

cultural change where values were in a state of flux, and

 ( 82 )

they felt it was their duty to express the malaise of the

times"(2).

Depicting the evolution of Arabic romanticism and drawing

distinctions between this particular movement and European

romantic movements, S.Kh Jayyusi points out that:

The Romantic movement in Arabic literature

came about without the backing of a
phil os oph y and certainly without any­
thing similar to the French Revolution. It
lacked an indigenous basis similar to the
thought and ideas that underlay the Europ­
ean Romantic movement, and it did not form­
ulate its own principles after its develop­
ment.... It simply happened. In fact, it is
perhaps one of the simplest Romantic m o v e ­
ments in the history of any p oet ry .(3)

It is of great importance, however, while examining the

period of transition from neo-classicism to romanticism in

Arabic poetry, to consider the role of Khalil Mutran (1872-

1949). Mutran, in many respects, "was an important link

between the neo-classical school and the more modern poetry

written in the twenties and thirties"(4). Most of his

contributions, one might say, seem to be remarkably free

from the rigidity of the old poetic conventions. Signs of a

developing new literary taste, and the popularisation of new

themes and approaches to poetry could be easily traced in

his introduction to his first diwan in 1908. In this intro­

duction Mutrln sees that:

 ( 83 )

the poet should rebel against the artifice,

rigidity of expression and diction, the
lack of unity in the classical poem, the
repetitiveness of the classical theme, and
against all that is sham in poetry .(5)

Although Mutran stressed the importance of truth and

sincerity in poetry, one cannot overlook his various pan­

egyrical works, whether in the form of eulogies or elegies

which one can no doubt classify as occasional verse. But

these were written out of a sense of obligation in

keeping with the customs of his day. This shows that, while

making an enthusiastic leap towards modern concepts in

poetry, Mutran was obliged to arrive at a compromise between

*

his call for abandoning the old themes and methods and the

conventional literary atmosphere which was not prepared to

be surprised by new adventures in poetic innovation.

The more vital contribution, which affected the output of

the early romanticism of Arabic poetry during the twenties

and the thirties, was undertaken by the Diwan group and the

Mah jar poets*. The three members of the Diwan group were

*Abd 71 -Rahman Shukri (1886-1958), *Abbas Mahmud a l - fAqqad (1889-

1964) and Ibrahim al-Mazini (1890-1949). They were known to

be, to a certain extent, influenced by English poetry and

* This is meant to refer in particular to the Lebanese and

Syrian poets who emigrated to North America at the beginning
of the century and founded the literary society named al-
Rabita al-Qalamiyya in New York, in 1920.
 (84 )

particularly by romantic poets such as Wordsworth, Coleridge,

Shelly and Byron (6). They also showed interest in Hazlitt

and his critical theory in poetry (7). The new ideas about

the message of poetry, its principles and the necessity to

convey personal experiences and genuine feelings, all these

romantic insights find expression in the major critical work

of the Diwan group, and that is al-Diwan fi ?1-Naqd wa a l-A da b,

which was first published in 1921*. The aim' of this work was

to start a severe campaign against the old concepts of poetry

and against stereotyped conventions. The protest was mainly

directed against the neo-classical school and especially

against its most representative figure Ahmad Shawqi.

One must stress, however, that the emergence of a modern

critical theory of poetry during the twenties of this century

was not merely an effort of the Diwan group in Egypt. A simil­

ar movement had already begun in the Mahj ar with prominent

authors like Amin ^l-Rayhani (1876-1940) and Gibran Khalil

Gibran (1883-1931). Likewise, the contribution of M i k h l ’il

Naimy (b.1889) as a poet and critic was prominent. His work

al-Ghirbal, a collection of critical essays first published in

Cairo, in 1923, marked another protest against the rigidity

and sterility of the conventional concepts of poetry(8). The

efforts of the Diwan group and the Mahj ar poets were to cul­

minate in the rise of a movement aiming at liberating Arabic

poetry from many of the neo-classical traditions and con­

straints. Members of both groups called for the abandonment

* Only two volumes, however, of the projected ten volumes

written by cAqqad and Mazini made their appearance.
 ( 85 )

of occasional poetry, which turned the poets, so to speak,

into the journalists of their day, and stipulated that poetry

should probe deep into the self, and try to derive its inspi­

ration from the sincere experiences of the individual. Poets,

they said, should abandon rhetorical and declamatory verse,

and, above all, they insisted on the importance of the organic

unity in the poem (9). The emergence of this early romantic

trend in Arabic poetry was an important step in the history

of modern Arabic literature as a whole. This movement reflect­

ed, as already pointed out, influences from Western literature

and a willingness to accept and assimilate foreign concepts

of poetry.

The writers and poets of the Diwan group and the Mahj ar

managed to change the course of literary taste. They also pa v­

ed the way for the second generation of romantic poets like

Ahmad Zaki Abu Shadi (1892-1955), the founder of the Apollo

society and the Apollo magazine in 1932. Abu Shadi's aim in

the magazine Apollo was to invite experimental attempts in

poetry, and to encourage all kinds of poetic innovations.

This, however, does not mean that Apollo was limited to one

particular trend. In fact the magazine reflected many trends

and poetic schools and was, in the words of Jayyusi, "one of

the richest poetic 'schools' of any time, because it mobilliz-

ed and united many 'excellent' talents"(11). In his introduc­

tion to the first issue of Apollo magazine, the mouthpiece of

the avant-garde poets in Egypt and in other parts of the Arab

 ( 86 )

world at the time, Abu Shadi stresses the necessity of found­

ing such magazine, and asserts that:

There is a great need for raising the status

of Arabic poetry, for helping the poets, d e ­
fending their dignity and directing their
footsteps to a sound artistic p a t h ...... The
Apollo magazine aspires therefore to raise
poetry to its former lofty position and to
achieve a spirit of brotherhood and co-oper­
ation among po et s. (12)

Thanks to the efforts of the Apollo magazine new talents

flourished. Romantic sentiment and mood began to distinguish such

avant-garde poets as Ibrlhim NajI (1898-1953) , fAli Mahmud Taha

(1901-1949), Muhammad
•
rAbd al-Muc ti
*
al-Hamshari (1908-1938),

Abu a l- Qa s i m *1-Shabbi (1909-1934) and Yusuf B a s h i r ?1-Tljanl

(1912-1937). Poetry written by these pioneers mostly tended

to lyricism and simplicity of language. Their primary inter­

est was to reflect genuine experiences,to express sincerity

and subjective feelings which, as Badawi points out:

were often of romantic sorrow and vague yearn­

ing, of nostalgia for lost innocence and u n ­
attainable ideals, of metaphysical awe and b e ­
wilderment, of mystery and the unknown both
within the poet's self and in the darker as­
pects of nature wi th o u t . (13)

This is a summary outline of the romantic movement which

started to reshape Arabic poetry between the twenties and the

 ( 87 )

forties. With the new stress on the poetry which reflects

genuine personal feelings and experiences, one can say that

the new poetry tended to mirror the particular spirit of the

age. In this respect, the contributions of the romanticists

could be regarded as an output from which one can derive the

views and attitudes of their creators.

k k k k
 II. DESPONDENCY AND ALIENATION

IN THE WORKS OF THE ARAB ROMANTIC POETS

Interpreting the impulse behind the outburst of sentiment­

ality in European romanticism after a long supression on ac­

count of the classical epoch, Jaques Barzun points out that:

No blame need attach to eighteenth ce n­

tury sentimentality for it is logical
that a period which ideally repressed
its feeling should come to lead a double
life emotionally, with all its unc ha n­
nelled feelings pushed to one side, and
all its reason conventional and negative
To say: Don't be an enthusiast, don't be
a poet, don't fall in love, don't take a
risk, nil admirari, is an infallible way
to make sentimentalists.(14)

One may notice how much this remark applies to the Arab ro ­

manticists in as much as sentimentality bulks in most of

their works. Some of the works written by the romanticists

seem to represent the release of a pent-up flood of stifled

emotions, and can be seen as giving free rein to subjectivity

 ( 89 )

and the revelation of genuine experiences and feelings (15).

Influenced by the fundamental principles of the romantic

movement in the West, the Arab poets in their early produc­

tions seem to have become aware of the fact that "romantic­

ism (is) a revolt of the individual"(16),and that individual

expression represents an essential value in any literary or

artistic work. This understanding of the importance of the

individual and his own emotions and experiences was the turn­

ing point, one might say, in the minds and thoughts of the

romanticists. They began to realize, in other words, that it

was high time to be themselves, and to make sure that their

literary productions were the real representatives of what

they felt and conceived, and not mere imitations of the works

of their predecessors and their poetic conventions. This is

an essential attitude of the romantic poet, as far as genu­

ineness in poetry is concerned. For the more the poet

approaches the realm of the self the more he will be capable

of revealing sincerity and therefore of realizing satisfac­

tion and self-contentment.

Various other aspects of a romantic trend were becoming dis­

tinct in the works of avant-garde Arab romanticists, as Badawi

points out:

The best works produced by this group of

poets were of a dominantly subjective
character, expressing the poet's own r e ­
sponse to others, or to nature or to his
own predicament: poems of introspection,
 ( 90 )

confessional poems or poems which attempt

to record a mood, usually one of sorrow
and despondency.(17) /

Being almost in a prevailing mood of sensibility and despon­

dency, the romantic poet, while meditating his vague sorrow

and bewilderment, becomes aware of his predicament as a

human being threatened by the seemingly blind elements and

life's vicissitudes. Depicting this state of despondency and

suffering seems for a long while to be the distinguishing

marked features of the poetry of the romanticists. The roman­

tic poets find themselves, so to speak, in the centre of a

conflict between the actual reality of life, which they con­

sider as harsh and distressing, and the desirable ideals they

dream of, or, as E. Bernbaum points out:

Because of their faith that the world as it

ought to be could be made an actuality, the
romantics scorned the world as it was full
of untruth, evil, ugliness, and at times
almost to utter dejection. This mood may be
regarded as the first state of the romantic
mind, a state of rebellion against things
as they a r e .(18)

The notion of the imperfection of life and the evil forces

that govern most of its aspects becomes a clear form of pro­

test in most of the Arab romanticists’ works, which betray

similar attitudes to what E. Bernbaum depicts in the above

quotation. They often maintain that life is barren, and that

 ( 91 )

the state of the world has deteriorated through evil d e ­

structive forces. To them misfortune, despair, suffering,

frustration and other elements of misery keep governing man's

life and turning it into an inevitable ordeal. The Tunisian

poet Shabbi, one of the most despondent voices among the Arab

romanticists, gives his impression about life's imperfections

and how life can turn into an endless chain of suffering and

distress. He, in a poem entitled Sawtun T i ’ih "A Vagrant

Voice", says:

l« L j c. L i -5 t S D 1 f j J 1j S JL* 3 i \ j 1 ***- r ^ *

I.j - — - Ll>-7 L I^Jv I JL>- ^1) d L>J I dJu5 L *” •J **~

I,, .+ 2 l..^i« b 1.*»_■ ’1 V 1 (jp-sLs |di j y b j J I j I ■l £

(19) U j+ s t 3 !_*>J 1 ^ I I j I ^ 3u> U." 11^ j 13 I

I have spent the various stages of my life

Thinking of (the mystery of existence).
(1 i t .thinking about all beings),
Tormented and distressed.
And attended the banquet of life and found nothing
But brackish and poisonous drinks.
I played on the strings of Time
But they did not produce except a moaning
Narrating the tales of misery and sorrow,
And turning joys to distress.

Bernbaum says:

Most of the romantics, after expressing

their rebellion against contemporary evils,
passed beyond the phase of despondency, and
looked expectantly forwards towards social
betterment. They held that the evils of the
 ( 92 )

world, including poverty and warfare, exist­

ed because the kind of men,whose motives
were greed and pride...., had been allowed
to misguide and to misrule i t.(20)

T h i s ,one can say,is how Shabbi conceived of life and existence.

In trying to seek social and moral perfection he, in another

poem entitled S hu ju n,"Sorrows", examines life and

its ways, but he seems to find nothing but scenes of

misery. Thus he seems to be convinced that misfortune is

eternal,and that it governs existence from its beginning to

its end (21)

Paralleling Shabbi's dejection, Gibran declares his disap­

pointment after experiencing the deceptive ways of life. He

not only reveals that misery in life is inevitable, but he

also realizes that even patience and forbearance do not seem

to be the satisfactory solution, for they soon turn to b e ­

trayal. Such a view is expressed in the following verses by

Gibran:

.
1IC.V * I•*> jj - * j I b u * I J -S

— :3 O JjJ ^ i " Li -m *1j. I b>\ f«i.11*

J Lj (J> **i< Li^i\ Ij I I1 It iM I 1 J
(2 2 ) j 1^ . *. !*,,»■ Lt.up < i 1.. s ‘ Ls Ij b w j d 1■ . 1 ^

We have been living in a valley

In which shadows of distress are constantly moving
With despair hovering above us
Like flights of eagles and owls.
 ( 93 )

No sooner had we donned patience as a garment,

Thdn it burnt up.
So we have had nothing for clothes but ashes.
We made of patience and forbearance a pillow
But it soon turned to chaff and thorns.

Other images of romantic despondency could be seen in the

references to vague yearning and nostalgia for remote sources

of satisfaction and unattainable ideals. Naji, for instance,

expresses these sentiments in the image of ^Asifat /1-Ruh "The

Storm of the Soul", the title of one of his poems. "Peace" is

portrayed as a mirage or a port which is but an illusion to

the "ship of his soul". Throughout his poem, Naji pictures

a hopeless sailor fighting the severity of the winds, high

waves and darkness. The sailor is stripped of all hope by the

tempest. The following are some of the echoes of his rage and

g r ie f:

* 1____ — >■jJ t la. i 1

— -- *f.1 1t 1.

p 1J—
C-f— --- V -1 j
e b — ---- =r W 1
o '— Ta 1\ .1

t 1— ---- 1 ^
— !----- **
 ( 94 )

(23) o b

Where is the shore of hope?

0 waves of sorrow.
My night is all a storm,
My day is overcast with clouds.
Howl 0 wounds
Let the Lord hear.
A wrathful boat
Will not threaten the winds.

The sail is holed

And rent apart,
Fatigued and ragged.
Shadows of farewell (appear).
All hopes are vain
In the mouth of a volcano.
Darkness is drunk,
And death is (blind with) intoxication.

One may notice in the above verses that Naji's fast rhythms

and short lines are emphatic and powerful, and betray a con­

siderable degree of grievous anger. It is a cry of horror

which depicts the abysmal spiritual distress which the poet

is going through.

A similar tone of a lost wandering is raised in A.M. T a h a 's

poem Sakhrat *1-Multaqa "The Cliff of the Meeting". At the

beginning of the poem, Tahi portrays himself as seeking the

shade of an oasis to avoid the midday heat of the "desert of

 ( 95 )

life". In further verses he seems to become a baffled bird

soaring over a turbulent ocean. In this state of loss and

unrest his days and nights seem to pass hopelessly. The

following verses are a depiction of T a h a 's spiritual anguish

d> 1 >JJ 1 ^
3 LkJ I K—*>.■* 11 L*1 jj

(24) ur— IJ J ur *

I have been wandering about in the desert of life,

With distracted thoughts and straying steps.
Travelling alone under the curtain of darkness,
Fate has smashed my lamp.
The midday heat blinds my eyes
And wafts all around me.
I have never found a shaded oasis in life,
Nor a stream to slake the thirst of my mouth.

Above the ocean, I am but a lost bird soaring over

stormy waves.
Behind me the desert, the valley of death.
And before me the ocean, the stormy sea of life.
Between these two the best of my days are spent,
And my bright nights wane away.

The aspects, which are portrayed in the above examples of

Shabbi, Gibran, Naji and Taha, are distinct signs of despon-

 ( 96 )

dency, suffering and bewilderment. The state of frustration

and despair occasioned by the problems of life, seem to

drive the romantic wanderers to abandon the world of clamour

and wickedness and look for solitude. Within this solitude

they can build their own fantasies and daydreams of ideal

realms. The poetic solitude seems to be a state of mind and

soul in which the romantic poet can enjoy his "distinctive

position" above the world of the "humble masses". Likewise,

the revelations he creates, as far as his narcissistic tend-

ency is concerned, seem to be far beyond the people's u nd er ­

standing and perception. This seems to be similar to what

the French romantic poet A.de Vigny (1797-1863) describes as

a stamped bottle being thrown in the ocean of the masses. De

Vigny says:

Let us throw the bottle in the ocean of

the masses after stamping it by the stamp
of the sacred solitude.(25)

Although the romanticists incline to detach themselves from

others and never expect support but from their inner b e ­

liefs (26), they realize that the solitude they crave is but

a temporary refuge and not a solution. Romantic solitude

seems to be pleasurable on the one hand, but on the other

hand it becomes the main cause of alienation. For soon the

voices rise declaring the bitter feelings of being alienated

in a world which is corrupt and in which the poets never find

 ( 97 )

understanding or compassion. This distressing state of mind

and soul was perhaps behind the pent-up flood of sadness and

pain which are almost inevitable. The perpetual expressions

of sentimental sadness and despondency were perhaps true and

sincere depictions of genuine feeling. This romantic mood is

perhaps what the French thinker Voltaire (1694-1778) spoke

about when he said:

The best works of art were those which

made one weep the m o s t . (27)

Shabbi, like other romanticists, seems to lack the ability

to realize a pattern of satisfactory moral and intellectual

communication with the world around him. His endurance drives

him, for example, to extreme pessimism: "I wish I had never

existed in this wo rl d” . This painful cry comes as a conse­

quence of the alienation the poet describes in the following

verses from his poem al-Ashwaq *l-TaJiha "The Vagrant Lo ng ­

ings” :

»■i. ^ t ) 1 J jj t ^ jbS d 1,.>J 1 |l t

< _ J 1*-* y J ... . 1— J 1 o .?■*■(•S f ^ Orf*-!

lj- *■ * ^ ^ i d-5 b .......... ■.■-* Oi■» (_)..— 1*1

i_*5i ^ ^ ?""*—** 3 b —iu —— —J 1 d Oft I fcU ^ pJ ly u w J

(28) P ' f-bL )L-~—%>1 j p?— £J tJj-J U_. 1

How estranged I am, 0 marrow of life,

How lonely is my s o u l ,
Among people who do not understand the songs
of my heart,
Nor the cause of my misery.
 ( 98 )

(I live) in a fettered existence

Straying into the darkness of doubt and calamity.
I wished I had never existed in this world,
Nor seen the planets revolve around me.
I wished that the dawn had not embraced my dreams
Nor the light kissed my eyes.

With the Iraqi poet Nazik al-Ma la?ika (b.1923), suffering

the vicissitudes of an imperfect life find expression in a

novel way. Mala^ika, one might say, is a great lover of her

pains. In her view, the conventional complaints which her

contemporaries express had reached their furthest limit.

After all, she feels, they have nothing to reveal but repet-

ative images of complaint. In Mala^ika's remarkable poem

Khams Aghani li ’l-Alam "Five Songs to Pain", she seems to

develop a new method of treating her anguish with love. She

attempts to relish the pleasure of pain and enjoy it. Through­

out her verses no tears are shed, nor any laments or com­

plaints heard. Instead of that total understanding and calm

prevail. Although she realizes how much the bitterness of

pain is overwhelming, she seems to have managed to tame its

severity and turn it to a lovely creature. Pain, as the poet

portrays it, is marked with a sweet spirit which makes her

not only love it and glorify its essence, but also welcome it

and sing for it. It would be profitable to choose, at least,

three stanzas from M a l a ’ika's poem Khams Aghani li ’l-Alam in

which she seems to be in harmony with her pain. She begins

the first stanza with a question:

 ( 99 )

i 1_j-3 (j-j6^ j

(29) — — *„>j

From where does pain come to us?

From where does it come?
It has been the twin of our visions,
And the minder of our verses for ages.
(To it) we are but a thirst and a mouth.
When it (offers) we drink.

The poet portrays pain as a loveable child who is cherished

by a passionate mother. She says:

m
(30) f ^ ^ o 1j

What could pain be?

But a little sensitive child with questioning eyes
Who can be calmed by a lullaby and aqpassionate pat.
If we smile and sing to him he will fall asleep.

Moreover, pain seems to be a pure source of inspiration to

the poet:
 ( 100 )

dibli
(31)2

You (pain), whose hand has offered melodies

and songs.
You are tears which grant wisdom, a fountain
of meanings.
You are riches and fertility.
You are a harsh passion, a blow full of mercy.
We have hidden you in our dreams and in every tune
Of our gloomy songs.

Whether the romanticists enjoy their pains or reject the

feelings of alienation and despondency, they all realize that

even the solitude they crave cannot ease their anguish. Soli­

tude seems to be a temporary refuge for their vagrant souls,

and they feel that life will continue to be imperfect and u n ­

bearable. Aspiring for spiritual emancipation from the physic­

al bonds to the metaphysical, from the finite to the infinite,

from the known to the unknown, all these longings seem, h o w ­

ever, to persist. But this state of anxiety and unease mo ti v­

ated the poets to search for a solution. Death as a metaphysic­

al reality stood before the romanticists as an ambiguous ques­

tion mark challenging their minds and animating their souls.

Death, the symbol of mystery and the unknown, might be the

gateway to spiritual freedom and self-realization. But in what

manner death was viewed as the liberator, is the subject of

the following chapters of this work, and of the remaining sec­

tions of the present chapter.

 III. DEATH THE GLORIOUS ROAD TO SALVATION

The notion of seeking a salvation through death in the

works of the Arab romanticists, one may say, betrays a m y s ­

tical influence. Many common traits could be found in the

works of the romantic poets in modern times and the mediev­

al Muslim S u f i s . Mystical concepts, terms and means of e x ­

pression, which distinguish Sufi poetry became a noticeable

source of inspiration to the romanticists especially when

dealing with the concept of death. Their way of viewing the

eventuality of death corresponds in many ways to the main

lines of Sufi doctrine about the essence of the soul, its

"state" of longing to depart to a perfect metaphysical world

which, as the Sufis believe, culminates in reaching the

stage of "fana*" "passing away"*.

According to the doctrine of the Muslim Sufis and philoso­

phers, the human soul existed in an ideal world before its

emergence into its present "imperfect" state. The soul keeps

longing for her original world where she' tasted true pleasure

and satisfaction. Ibn Sina's famous poem about the descent of

the human soul from its metaphysical state is a representative

example in this context. It is the poem which begins with the

* The translation of this term is taken from Nicholson, R.A,

in his book The Mystics of Isl am , London, 1974, p . 149.
 ( 102 )

well-known verse:

(32) ^ ^ b ^1— ft ^ i t j>i4i 11 11<**1.1h..

It descended upon thee from the lofty station (heaven);

A dove rare and un ca ptu re d.(33)

This poem, one may say, is a revelation of Ibn Sina's do c ­

trine in which he almost asserts three notions. First, he

proclaims that the previous existence of the human soul was

in a "perfect metaphysical" world. Second, the human soul

subsequently undergoes a descent to an earthly life which is

described as "inferior" and "imperfect". Third, since the

soul has experienced the felicity of her former exsitence,

she therefore keeps longing for her primordial origin and

aspires to revert to it.

These main lines of Ibn S i n a ’s doctrine of the soul seem to

have left their influence on most of the romanti ci sts ’ works.

In a poem entitled Man Anti Ya Nafsi (34)"Who Are You My

Soul", M i k h a ’il Naimy raises many profound questions about

the essence of the soul. Throughout these questions he almost

approaches the very idea of the "descent" of the human soul.

He also, in the words of Nadim Naimy, seems to realize that:

It is of the very nature of the human soul

to feel highly estranged in the world of
appearance and to yearn constantly for its
homeland Such feelings of estrangement
and yearning find their full expression in
 "The Song of the Wind", a symbolic song,in which
the poet, dreaming of having been carried
skywards on the wings of the wind, meets
a lost angel (a symbol of the emancipated
soul) in whom he finds good company in
looking for the way back to the original
h o m e l a n d .(35)

Nasib *Arida (1887-1946), another of the Mahjar poets, clear­

ly reflects what Ibn Sina said about the descent of the soul

from the elevated station. Reading ^Arida's verses, one may

notice that he is barely able to tolerate the bonds of the

earthly body which choke his soul's aspiration to a vision of

eternity. He says:

J 1 1: iw j LjJ I h i •* ^
J L a J lx - ! ^ *•*** * ^ J ^J ^ c J a -« fc ^

( 3 6 ) J I— — 0 ~ * J "* ^ <_yd I ^ (jr5

I yearn for a land

Where I have seen the brightness of beauty.
I have descended down to a state
In which the soul is chained.
Feeling in the darkness a deep longing
For that primal union.

Likewise, ^Arida expresses his belief that he can only attain

the desirable homeland of his soul through death:

 ( 104 )

We hope that we can see a road in the sky

Through which we may walk and never return.
Rise up, leave the body to decay
Death is better than lethargy.

Being haunted by the fantasies of a metaphysical pre-exist­

ence, Shabbi seems to believe that he, once upon a time,

existed in a perfect universe where beauty and happiness

/
embraced his soul. In a poem entitled Ila Jl-llah "TO God",

he despairingly supplicates the Almighty:

(38) £ 1 • Ii.w
ft y-S <**■
* JL9 J ^ ^4 1 i

0 Lord, you have cast me onto the darkness of the earth,

Whereas before, I existed in a bright perpetual morn.

Shabbi in this instance conceives of his pre-life experience

as a magnificent dream broken by the dismal darkness of life

^^ ^^ 1^ 4 “^ "w ^ 1^ ^ ^ P |jp j14 ^5 ^ IS

J ■ ^j-l> j . i m 4 j f j LJ> 1 j L 1 j
d t* ^ j o l» I wJ U ; I j) <j L ^ ^ L d 4 t_y_s ^ IS

d T jk L J 1 1 U d L j> x J I j I J 1 U d T

3 o ' V - L 3 o r 5’ O 15

,iiJu» ^)11> JSJ I U Lj

( 39) .9 (jr'r-^5 ur* O

In the realm of my heart, there were a dawn and stars

And oceans which were never veiled with clouds.
There were songs, birds soaring
And a bright delightful charming Spring.
 ( 105 )

In the realm of my heart there were mornings, lights

And smiles. But alas!
How savage is the storm of life!
Ah, how cruel are the hearts of men.
In the realm of my heart there were a dawn and stars.
But suddenly everything turned to darkness and haze.
There were a dawn and stars in my heart.

When proceeding to trace other influences of the Muslim

Sufis on the romantic poets in modern times, one should

realize that the inspiration of Sufi poetry arose from a m y s ­

tical state, h a l , in which, by way of meditation, the Sufis

could approach the reality of spiritual revelation. Over­

whelmed with the ecstasy of that particular state, the Sufis

were seemingly preoccupied with two tendencies. First, the

mystic longs to attain unity with the infinite "God", as the

essence of goodness and perfection. This mystical love of God

was the distinguishing mark of Sufi works (40)* Al-Halllj

244 ( 858)-309 (922), Ibn 'Arab! 560 (1165)-638 (1240), Ibn

al-Farid 576 (1181)-632 (1235) and other Sufis were all

lovers of God. And one can compile endless examples of poetry

attesting to this kind of mystical love. Second, the mystic's

attempt to fulfil the aspiration of his soul by "passing away

from what belongs to himself and persisting through what is

God's"(41). F a n a ? is a mystical term which is frequently used

to identify the ecstatic state which the Sufis seem to have

attained after going through constant "stages" of their m y s ­

tical journey (42). In his book The Mystics of I s l a m , R.A

Nicholson states that:

 ( 106 )

For some Sufis, absorption in the ecstasy

of f a n a * is the end of their pilgrimage.
Thenceforth no relation exists between them
and the world. Nothing of themselves is left
in them; as individuals, they are dead. Im­
mersed in Unity, they know neither law nor
religion nor any form of phenomenal b e i n g . (43)

Examining the term f a n a 9 from the mystical point of view, one

should consider two aspects of it. First, the mystical journey

which culminates in the state fana * by no means represents the

eventuality of the soul's being. On the contrary, it abounds

with new possibilities of an exceedingly satisfactory exist­

ence. As Nicholson puts it:

F a n a % the passing away of the Sufi from his

phenomenal existence, involves b a q a ? the con­
tinuance of his real existence. He who dies
to self lives in God, and fan aJ the consumma­
tion of this death, marks the attainment of
baqa'* or union with the divine life. (44)

Second, the state of fani ? is usually depicted with images

which seemingly spurn all manifestations of earthly life, and

turn towards the unbounded spiritual pleasures of heaven. In

his well-known work Turjuman al -Ashwaq, Ibn *Arabi, for

example, conveys his yearning to fulfil the desirable rendez­

vous " > that is to say the final destination of his

mystical journey, when his soul will experience the state of

f a n a 9 and be able to attain the real "source" of complete

satisfaction. This coulcLbe understood from his verse:

 ( 107 )

(45)

In the valley-curve between the two stony tracts is

trysting-place.
Make our camels kneel, for here is the journey's e n d . (46)

A full interpretation is attached to the work of Turjuman al-

Ashwaq by Ibn ^Arabi himself who, for instance, explains al-

m a w cid "rendezvous" as "the paradise of ^Adn" , and al-mawrid

"resource" as "the eternal amenity which delights the spirit

and the sight"(47). Then he proceeds to portray lively images

of glorious horizons which evoke beauty, peace and absolute

fulfilment. In other verses, Ibn ^Arabi seems to have express­

ed the same longing for that "promised day", when his soul

will be guided to her spiritual homeland. Reaching that sta­

tion, the soul will be able to get rid of suffering and of

earthly hardship (48).

The point to stress is that the main line of Sufi doctrine,

\

as it can be deduced from their works, consists in renouncing

earthly life and longing for a metaphysical existence in a

higher plane. This aim,, they believe, cannot be attained u n ­

less the soul departs from the physical body. The Sufi visions

about the delightful departure and the unbounded spiritual

pleasures of the soul in a heavenly universe, perhaps affected

the romanticists' imagination and prepared them to adopt m y s ­

tical means of treating the theme of death. Thus death, in the

romantics' works, is always associated with love and beauty,

 ( 108 )

arid this is the very essence of Sufi doctrine. Commenting on

Shabbi's poetry, Abu al-Qasim Kerru points out that the ul t i­

mate existence of the human soul according to Shabbi:

is the eternal spiritual existence, which

will be attained after the soul departs the
ties of the earthly life. Symbolizing that
ultimate existence, the poet always resorts
to the images of "the far dawn" and "the
new m o r r o w " Death in Shabbi's. poetry
seems to be the remedy which will save him
from misery and open the doors of eternal
beauty before him. In this regard S h a b b i ’s
pessimism of life apparently consists of an
optimism of the after life.(49)

In a poem entitled IIa ?1-Mawt "To Death", Shabbi pictures

his final destination as a delightful and mysterious horizon,

a universe consisting of beauty and pure excitement. Likewise,

his coming death* is passionately viewed within an image of a

charming spirit hovering above the clouds and welcoming the

coming of immortality. Sometimes death embodies a delightful

cup from which the thirsty drink, sometimes it is a soft

comfortable bed on which all beings eventually sleep in peace.

Death is finally portrayed as a place where nude heavenly

maidens appear swaying and singing lovely melodies (50).

Since death is believed to be a way to spiritual freedom

and total fulfilment, it is therefore welcomed by romantic

* It is important to note that Shabbi was undergoing a subtle

experience with fatal illness, and was totally aware of his
imminent death.
 ( 109 )

poets with noticeable passion. Furthermore, it is something

desirable whose novelty is worthy of anticipation, a charming

unknown to be loved and yearned for. Thus death becomes char­

acterized as the beloved with whom meeting is eagerly awaited

Once death is encountered, as Salah Labaki (1906-1955) the

Lebanese poet puts it, all suffering vanishes and is thrown

away with what remains of the body, whereas the ultimate

essence proceeds upwards to that expanse where love and tran­

quility exist. In his poem Ughniyat *1-Mawt ’’The Song of

Death1', Labaki engages in a meditation upon death in which he

endeavours to grasp its essence. Overwhelmed by a vision of

freedom and love, it is no wonder that at the end the poet

welcomes his beloved with eager longing:

^ I.V— 1^»<i j tX&jf —«»)1id 1o O—*.'“*** b

(_£.* 1.iin. ;*> — —J 1 1 - •“"'I ■« J

» :- C<^.1k i.4 11 « ^ 1(■i ■<><*1

<|---^ 1^ ^ blft

•* ■» 1I JLS (J-® 2 ^ <^| (Jf“® l— ^ 1*

y* v ^^ ^>
ju J i ^~ 1 > - (j «>" l -o I t 2 —^ L - ( j . j «. 1 1 _ j- L - JL_/

( 51) ^ U-C- 1 o**

How delightful that rendezvous will be

When it comes to eliminate the future out of my life.
To wipe away the suffering and the sorrow
And give rest to (lit.put an end to) my heart.
But saves the dreams. Can the dreams be saved for ever?
So I can emerge with them into a unique, unbounded expanse.
 ( 110 )

Where love is (manifested) in the fragrance of fresh blossoms.

What are you death in your veil of invisibility

And in your eternal glory?
Are you not but a mighty inspiring love full of music,
Appearing with sweet eyes, a sweet encounter and sweet hand?
Welcome whenever you come to me
To eliminate the future out of my life.

With Gibran, death seems to become the ultimate freedom,

a spirit of beauty and charm which helps people to attain

peace and repose. In the beginning of his prose poem Jamal j 1-

Mawt "The Beauty of Death"*, Gibran depicts the moment in

which the soul departs from the body with a mystical passion:

Now, I have reached the peak of the m o u n ­

tain, and my soul moves freely in the vast
space of boundless fr ee do m I hear n o ­
thing but the song of immortality ha rm on ­
izing with the longings of the soul.

* I have chosen to consider some of Gibran's prose works

because of their close links with verse.
See: Hawi, Kh, Khalil G i b r a n , Beirut, 1963, Chap VIII:
"Analysis of His Form and Style", p. 244; T r e n d s , II, p.633:
"His readings (Gibran) in Western poetry, where prose as a
medium for poetic expression was already well regarded, as
well as in the Bible, must have given him the necessary e n ­
couragement to use a prose which, on occasions, rose to the
heights of poetry".
See also: Hawi, I, al-Rumansiyya, Beirut, 1980, p. 173,4:
( j * ' IU L ^1 L j 1 1 c rS j U u J 1Jl J I ^ 11'

LwtJJj dJ lj £O ^ 11 * > l«A> ^ ^ O 0 ^ 1

Iy j j d lA .* 1^—J 1 ^ ^
‘ i*1 1 I d .1 1 I
1 y b rt >J ^ ^ 1 t f l J I ^ ^ ‘ ^ -4 ‘

J 1 3 J___ LsJ I
 ( 111 )

In The P r o p h e t , Gibran portrays death as a ship "that has

come to bear him to the isle of his birth, the Platonic world

of metaphysical reality"(53). It is a pleasant departure in

which the soul reaches its highest intoxication by releasing

itself from the ties of casual Time and Place. Approaching

this stage, the soul seemingly attains its total salvation,

where "the Utopia of human existence and the metaphysical

world of higher tr uth "(54) exist. There is, however, a more

profound view in The Prophet of Gibran which sees in the

moment of departing the body a unique vision that goes beyond

the imagination. It is the departure after which true kn ow ­

ledge is attained, and real existence begins:

For what is to die but to stand naked in the wind

and to melt into the sun?
And what is to cease breathing but to free the
breath from its restless ties, that it may rise
and expand and seek God unencumbered?
Only when you drink from the river of silence shall
you indeed sing.
And when you have reached the mountain top, then you
shall begin to climb.
And when the earth shall claim your limbs, then shall
you truly d a nc e. (55)

With both the eagerness of pioneers and the intensity of

spiritual yearning, the Arab romanticists seem to have given

death extensive treatment. They developed a noticeable mystic

al outlook towards death, as a novel and contemplative experi

e n c e . One may understand their aesthetic view of death as an

ongoing and joyous procession towards the ultimate fulfilment

 ( 112 )

In his commentary on S ha bb i1s poem al-Sabah *1-Jadid "The New

Morrow", M.M Badawi provides the following critique of the

p o e t ^ vision in the moment of contemplating his imminent

death:

Shabbi now regards death as a means of attain­

ing a fuller and more significant life...Here
partly by means of dominant light imagery
which, like Wordsworth, he tends to use in m o d ­
ern (sic)to express moments of ecstasy or
spiritual revelation, Shabbi manages to convey
a profound experience of mystical dimensions
which makes the final image in the poem of the
poet unfurling the sails of his lonely boat on
a strange and vast sea, welcoming the hazards
of the unknown, a perfect and moving symbol of
frail but heroic m a n . (56)

To have a close picture of Sh a b b i !s vision, it would be con­

venient to refer to the last two stanzas of al-Sabah Jl-Jadid

which demonstrate the hopeful view which Shabbi had of death:

a I *
^ L*tcul t Ipj jl3
6 1.1.. .<r &
^ 1^.1 I Jy i ^ 11■ .jjJ j>J

^ l j 1 ^ t
Li L
j ^niim t^
 ( 113 )

The morrow and the Spring of life

Both have called me from behind the darkness and the
tumultuous waters.
Such a call! that my heart quivered to its echo.
I will no longer remain in these lands.

Farewell, farewell, 0 mountains of distress

0 mists of sorrow, 0 valleys of hell.
My boat moves on in the vast ocean.
1 have unfurled its sails, so farewell, farewell.

k k k k k k
 IV . DEATH AS A VOLUNTARY EXPERIENCE

It is interesting, while examining the aspect of the vo l ­

untary acceptance of death in the poetry of the Arab roman­

ticists, to refer to the following verses of D.H. Lawrence

(1885-1930), who proclaims that:

We are dying, we are dying, so all we can do

is now to be willing to die, and to build the ship
of death to carry the soul on the longest journey.

A little ship, with oars and food

and little dishes, and all accoutrements
fitting and ready for the departing sou l.(58)

One cannot, however, speak of D.H. Lawrence as having had an

influence on Shabbi, or say that Shabbi read Lawrence in any

translated texts*. But Shabbi seems to intensify Lawrence's

vision about the voluntary experience of death in a single

verse, in which he asserts that death is an experience that

deserves to be tried willingly. This verse of Shabbi, which

appears in a poem entitled Fi Zil ^Wadl 71-Mawt "In the Shadow

of the Valley of Death", expresses"a clear sense of excite-

ment about death. It is the excitement of experiencing some­

thing new:

* Shabbi knew no foreign languages.

 ( 115 )

( 59) u* c_^J 1v ^ LJ I(_riria L 3 U J I

The charm of life has dried up

So come along my heart, let us try death.

This experience of death which Shabbi suggests occurs asa

wish to the poet to make of death not a passive actofsur­

render, but an act of will carried out consciously,

for the experience of death held for Shabbi

all the strange pleasure and enticing mys­
tery that vital experiences h o l d He
often mentions death when he is speaking of
life, beauty, youth, hope and Spring.... He
believes that a complete and deep life can­
not arrive at the peak of its consciousness
and realization until it merges with d e at h. (60)

"Let's die", is another emphatic invitation to death made by

Nazik al- Ma la’ika in her poem Ajras Sawda* "Black Bells". The

experience of death which the poet welcomes seems to have had

such a tempting attraction which cannot be resisted. She is

like Keats (1795-1821), whom she called in one of her articles

"the great lover of death"(61), finding a rare and mysterious

pleasure in responding to "the soft wing of death while pick ­

ing her up and flying away". No wonder that she, while examin­

ing Keats' works and the fascination death held for him (62),

cites this verse from his well-known poem "Ode to a Nigh t­

ingale" :

Now more than ever seems it rich to die,

To cease upon the midnight with no p a i n . (63)
 ( 116 )

Some echoes of Keats' verse could be heard in M a l a ’ika's poem

Ajras S a w da ’, in which she addresses a friend of hers:

L u j>\—-C; c lij UJ I 1 J Ij i t j 3 L*»vJ l j I

1 JJ (J-t-1 C>J Ip ^ I -jV 1^ 1 yJ (J^*1dJ 1 ^ J)

< ^ ■J>yj ^ ljL.j J Lw C 4 1 t ^,4>»1 ? L ift ^jr...it Ik) l«J J

^ I jL " (Tj ^ LjJ Is .:.I

ljL>«L> ^ I—
—.« 1»« t ,^jJ j ^ LwjaJ 1(_jk_4jk_v d - I I 1 11-, -1

(6 A-) 2 ^j 1 1.11 Idx^ 1 L»ft *-i>-

Let's die, life has dried up

And the empty cups are mocking us.
The clouds of oblivion in the eyes of the days
Have become brighter and more distinct.
Why do we stay here? I hear death calling us,
Why aren't we answering his call?
Let's d i e the winds scratch our faces
And the colour of the night is deep and awesome.
0 night, the two strangers do not wish to live,
Or to go through another evening. ■" -
Take them, lay your quiet black wing around them
And fly away.

Commenting on the poetry of Adib Mazhar (1898-1928), a

Lebanese poet, S.Kh. Jayyusi writes in this connection:

Death, as a much desired experience, is

treated in Adib M a z h a r 's verses in an orig­
inal fashion. It is not the same factual
death that is treated in conventional poet ­
ry with the usual kind of sorrow and tra­
ditional wisdom, but a fascinating experi­
ence where the poet reveals a deep, u n ­
quenchable desire for the "soft claw of
death":
 ( 117 )

Oh phantom of death, blot out my morrow

with your soft, black cla w. (65)

ln al-Mawakib,"The Processions", Gibrln perceives of the

experience of death as the ultimate achievement of the human

soul. For the human soul will not experience the right existence

until it is liberated through death. Life, accordingly, is

but a womb for the soul, while the moment of death is the day

of birth. This seems to be what Gibran is saying in the follow­

ing verses:

J * ;-k: 3 <iw £33^ f— ^3

(66) 3 b I <S3” ? f f3 * 3 * erf-5'

The body is a womb for the soul

In which itdwells until full term for birth is over.
When it would ascend once more to soar
While the womb recedes into nothingness.
The soul is a babe, and the day of death
Is the day of its happy birth.

Because the experience of death, in Gibran's view, is not a

dreadful eventuality but a glorious "birth" in which the soul

begins its proper existence, it comes to be viewed as a pleas­

ant experience and an occasion which deserves to be celebrat­

ed joyfully. In a prose poem entitled Jamal ’1-Mawt "The

Beauty of Death", Gibran depicts himself as a dying person,

and describes the hour of his death. He does not only seem to
 ( 118 )

be enjoying the experience himself, but seems to invite

others to participate in the glorious ceremonies preparing

for his departure. Thus a festive atmosphere of ca nd l es ,bl os ­

soms and fragrance hormonizes with lovely sounds of lyres and

flutes on the occasion of the poet's death, an occasion which

he deliberately wants to be a great celebration:

<3 Isj j *
dLvC L« 1 J I * * • * JL— (Jj-JLp yjmP^ j * II I J I

* c_y~ Ip c^tJ I -' ■

L 1RiJ dU >lK .1 1 1^4 1 1 |^ 4 ^ O Li L. .1 I ^ Ci t I J ' 1 1

(67). <jyjJ 1 ^ L-»ju J 1

Let me rest, for my spirit has had its fill

of days and nights.
Light the candles and burn the incense around
my bed, and scatter leaves of jasmine and roses
over my body, and read what the hand of death
has written on my forehead.
Play the flutes and let their sweet tunes
surround my dying heart.

In The P r o p h e t , there is another pleasant image of a dying

person experiencing a "thrill of joy" while receiving the

"mark" of death, "the king":

Your fear of death is but the trembling of the

shepherd when he stands before the king whose hand
is to be laid upon him in honour.
Is the shepherd not joyful beneath his trembling,
that he shall wear the mark of the k i n g ? (68)

According to this view of Gibran, death is but a rich experi-

 ( 119 )

ence which deserves to be willingly welcomed in order to

give the ultimate spiritual satisfaction. This experience,

according to the author of The P ro ph e t, need not suggest fear

nor distress. Thus Gibran appeals to the farewell assembly

gathered around the dead not to cry, but to "raise their heads

and watch the white wings of the bride of dawn soaring through­

out the vast space". Likewise, he asks the assembly around the

dead not to wear black but to be dressed in white, not to

lament, but to sing joyfully, for mourning and weeping may

disturb the repose and tranquility which the dying enjoy (69)*

Gibran's picture of death as a rebirth in his prose poetry

finds many an echo in the works of the romanticists in ge n­

eral. It is obvious that the conventional attitude of pessi­

mism towards death is almost reversed. Likewise the demonstra­

tion of vociferous grief and mourning on the occasion of

death seems to be turned to a meditative calm and total seren­

ity. Sadness for the dead in the works of the romanticists

seems to be a form of meditation which overwhelms the soul

with a sense of peace. With this sort of sadness, the rom an­

ticists seem to have reflected more understanding of the pain­

ful experiences of the deaths of dear ones. They adopt an

attitude through which they discover the pleasureable side

of pain and sadness. The grief for the dead, therefore, began

to find expression in a new way. The harsh grief, which used

to be demonstrated by the neoclassicists with such vociferous

and exaggerated declamatory verse, seems to be absolutely

 ( 120 )

abandoned by the romanticists. The romanticists deal with

their sadness with considerable composure and understanding.

They, so to speak, ultimately tamed the harsh element of sad­

ness, invariably expressed in a rhetorical manner, and express

ed their grief in a more intimate manner and much quiter tones

Mala^ika, for example, wrote the following brief comment as a

prelude to her poem entitled Thalathu Marathi li Ummi "Three

Elegies to My Mother":

I have not found to my pain a better out­

let other than to love it and to sing for it .(70)

Mala*ika then followed this brief statement with a short

stanza entitled Ughniya li *1-Huzn "A Song for Sadness", in

which she personifies sadness or grief as a most gracious and

welcome visitor:

aJ 1 L*aJ t ^j IL1J t d e ,jjJ I 1 I

^ ^ 1 11 )I < 1I
T U 1< I)I ^ 1> dJ I
I ^ L« 1 I
( 7 1 ) «o-J L a 1 li

Clear the way for him,

For the affectionate comer,
The sensitive youth approaching in an
ocean of fragrance.
He has come to us, bringing fertility in his wake.
He is more tranquil than the waters of a stream.
So be careful, do not hurt him with any clamour.

This stanza perhaps represents the views of most of the roman-

 ( 121 )

tic poets concerning the sort of sadness with which death

should be faced. It amounts to a charming feeling represented

by the image of a sweet youth who not only arouses affection

but also rejects to be received by mourning or weeping or any

form of affected candour. Mala^ika further adds in her person­

ification of this visitor:

(72) a

Mourning and weeping always hurt him.

Let our silence be his protective shelter,
In which he is welcomed and embraced.

* ■k
 FOOTNOTES TO CHAPTER II

(1) Al-Jundi, A, al-Shi/r al-^Arabi al-Mu*a$ir, p. 264-9;

Hawl, I, al -Rumansiyya~j B e i r u t , 1980, p. 137-9

(2) An An th ol og y, p.xiv

(3) T r e n d s , II, p . 361

(4) I b i d , p . 55

(5) Quoted from: T r e n d s , I, p. 57; See also: An Ant ho l og y,

p.xiii

(6) Al-^Aqqld, A.M, S h u ^ a r a ’, p. 192; al-*Aqqad, A.M, Sa fat

Bayna 'l-Kutub, I, Cairo, 1950, p. 114; ‘‘Abd J1 -Ha yy , M
Tradition and English and American Influence in Arabic
Romantic P o e t r y , London, 1982, p.3-4; Khafaji, M.A,
al- ‘Aqqad wa Qadiyyat yl-Shicr , Cairo, 1979 , p. 52
\ X.
(7) An A nt ho lo gy , p.xiv \

(8) Naimy, M, al-Ghirb al , Beirut, 1964, p . 147-8

(9) Khafaji, M.A, a l - rAqqad wa Qadiyyat^ J 1- Sh i* r, p . 57-68;

Naimy, N, al-Ghi rba l, p . 70-1

(10)^Abd ^l-Hayy, Tra d it io n, p . 163-4

(11) T r e n d s , II, p. 384

(12) A p o l l o , No.l, Sep, 1932, p .4-5,(translation quoted from

T r e n d s ,I I , p . 386

(13) An A nt ho lo gy , p .xv

(14) Romanticism and the Modern E g o , Boston, 1944, p . 106

(15) Ghunaymi Hilal, M, Dirlsat wa N a mi dh ij , Cairo, (n.d),

p.83, (D ir as at )

(16) Wilson, E, A x e l ’s C a s t l e , Newyork, 1942, p . 2

(17) An An t h o l o g y , p.xiv
 ( 123 )

(18) Bernbaum, E, Anthology of Ro ma nt ici sm, Newyork, 1948,

p .xxvii

(19) Al-Shibbi, Abu al-Qasim, Aghani al-H aya t, Cairo, 1955,

p .81, (Ag h a n i )

(20) Anthology of Ro ma nti ci sm, p.xxvii

(21) A g h a n i , p . 108

(22) Gibran, Gibran Khalil, al-Bada’i* wa ?1 -T a r a ,i f , Cairo,

1923, p . 207-8, (Bada* icl 1

(23) D i w a n , Cairo, 1961, p. 299-300

(24) D i w a n , Beirut, 1972, p . 118-121

(25) As quoted by Ghunaymi Hilal in Dir a si t, p. 84

(26) I b i d , L o c .cit

(27) As quoted in Romanticism and the Modern E g o , p . 106

(28) A g h a n i , p . 112,3

(29) D i w a n , II, Beirut, 1971, p.461

(30) I b i d , p.461-2

(31) I b i d , p.467-8

(32) Ibn Khallikan, Wafayat al-AfyIn, ed:^Abbas, Ih sa n,B e i r u t ,

1969, p . 160

(33) Ibn Khallikan's Biographical Dictionary, Trans: Guckin,

De Slane, I, Paris, (n.d), p.443

(34) Hams al -J u fu n, Beirut, 1974, p. 16-21, (H a m s )

(35) Naimy, Nadim, Mikha^il Naimy, An Introduction, American

University of Beirut, 1967, p. 189, (M I k h a 3il N a i m y )

(36) Al-Arwah al-Ha *ir a, Newyork, 1946, p . 179-180, (A r w a h )

(37) I b i d , p . 179

(38) A g h a n i , p .99

(39) I b i d , p . 89
 ( 124 )

(40) See: Nicholson, R.A, The Mystics of I s la m, London, 1974,

p . 102, (M y s t i c s ); Arberry, A.J, The Doctrine of the S u f i s ,
Cambridge, 1935, p . 101-104, (Doctrine)

(41 Doc tr in e, p . 120

(42 M y s t i c s , chap.I

(43 I b i d , p . 163-4

(44 I b i d , p . 149

(45 Ibn "Arabi, Muhyi 3 1-Din, Turjuman a l- Ash wa q, Beirut,

1961, p . 112, (furjum ln )

(46 Turiuman al-Ashwaq, Trans.and e d . Nicholson, R.A, London,

1911, p . 101

(47 Ibn ^Arabi, Tur juman, p . 112

(48 I b i d , p . 189-90

(49 Dirasat ^An ^1-Shabbi, p .9

(50 A g h a n i , p .76~ 7

(51 LabakI, S, Urjuhat ?1-Qamar, Beirut, 1955, p. 90-2

(52 Mas^ud, Habib, Gibran Hayyan wa M a y t a n , Beirut, 1966,

p . 138, (Gibran H a y y a n )* —*

(53 Naimy, N, MThe Mind and Thought of Khalil Gibran", Journal

of Arabic Li ter at u re , V, 1974, p.64, (The Mind and Thought)

(54 Ibid , p .56

(55 Gibrln, Gibran Khalil, The Pr op he t , London, 1974, p . 91-2

(56 Critical Introduction, p. 167-8

(57 Aghani , p .161

(58 The Complete Poems of D.H. La wre nc e, II, ed: Pin, V.de S 8c
Robert, F.W, London, 1967, p . 718

(59 A g h a n i , p . 143

(60 A l - M a l a ’ika, N, Q a d a y a , p . 294-5

(61 I b i d , p .296
 ( 125 )

(62) I bi d , p. 296-7

(63) The Poetical Works of John K e a t s , ed: Buxton Forman, H,

London, 1914, p . 232

(64) D i w a n , II, p . 104,6,7

(65) Tr e n d s , II, p.489

(66) Gibran, Gibrln Khalil, al-MawIkib, Newyork, 1958, p.67

(67) Gibran Hayyan, p . 137

(68) The P ro p h e t , p. 90-91

(69) Gibran H a y y a n , p .137-9

(70) D i w a n , II, p. 311

(71) I bi d , p .313

(72) I bi d , p . 314
 CHAPTER III

IMAGINARY JOURNEYS TO THE

WORLD OF DEATH

A Study of To^w Long Poems:

I.^Ala Tariq Ir a m , by: N. *Arida

II. Shati* al-ACr a f , by: M.A. al-Hamshari

The motif of exploring a perfect world through death seemed

to have gained such a noticeable momentum in Arabic romantic

poetry from the outset. One may find some scattered examples

of verse expressive of longing to discover this "perfect"

world in the early compositions of some romanticists. This

world of total contentment seems to have been initially

perceived by those romanticists as a "Utopia" or a land of

spiritual refuge. "The veiled land" is another name chosen by

Gibran to describe the world which he pines for. In a poem

bearing the same title, Gibrln depicts a spiritual longing

for a land which can neither be defined or described, but

only speculated about and searched for. Likewise he conceives

of this "veiled land" as a persistent hope of attaining

perfection which he cannot ignore or dismiss. Gibran gives

 ( 127 )

expression to his quest in the following verses:

j «iim t c ^ ^
jJ I Lb* J Ijj U J 1 Ifll

(1 ) J— *■■*»■- ^^ a-cr* lc 1 f1cuj1v ^ 1

0 land veiled since eternity

How could we reach you, and through which way?
Which desert hides you? which high mountain surrounds you?
And who will guide us to you?
Are you a mirage? Or are you the hope of souls
Longing for the impossible?*

M a l a ’ika used the term Utopia to identify a similar world

she longed for. She perceives of this world as a place where

light exists for ever, and life and youth are not marred by

any considerations of age or decay:

!_y>..
1.*-" * ^ 1 N J} ^ L ■<<».11(_y*—w **A.n»>- L .i 3
^^ N^ L^* ^ iw ^ *11^I iA.ni»^~ ^
... * **» V l*!S 1 j ^ Ii ojJ 1 ^
j.—— **■^ 1 d-rfj) .A i ^I 1I vi Ijiivt 1 d L>J I Ltf
(2 ) 1. ^ ^ K .-.*» J-LL-, 1— ^J ^ ^

Utopia, where light lasts for ever

And where the sun never sets, or darkness falls.
Where the fragrance of violets remains alive,
And the narcissus never fades.

* It is interesting to note how reminiscent this is of Shelly's

verses in "To a Skylark":

We look before and after,

And pine for what is not.
 ( 128 )

Where the borders of time vanish,

And the stars never set (lit.sleep).
There, life is but a constancy of youth beaming with ecstasy.
There, Spring remains fresh,
Surrounding the inhabitants of Utopia.

In another stanza from the same poem which is entitled Utopia

9 (- <
l - D & a ’i a "The Lost Utopia", Mala*ika seems to believe that
T
her soul will never be rewarded by the discovery of this

wonderful Utopia unless she goes through the experience of

death. Accordingly, Utopia is a metaphysical "no-place" rather

than an earthly paradise. Likewise, it is a tempting goal

which arouses restless longing, and death is the exciting

gateway that leads to it. Mala^ika says in this connection:

1 O-i
.0 : Cjr^-b- if* J

Li (J-5 o ’3

O K i 9***1* ' car1*

\ jJLJ \ I

1*— •* ‘J I ,I.m,I t 1I j f —JI

(3 ) 1 j . J "■j) • uf h

I called in my dream: where am I walking?

"Near Utopia" an echo answered.
And I felt a thrill of excitement in my soul,
And a deep longing like a deep ocean,
Striving to end the strange way
Leading to the desired remote abode.

I will remain tempted by the hope of approaching

that distant eternal horizon.
And when I die, I shall die with the promise of
finding Utopia.
 ( 129 )

One may notice that in the last verse, the poet sums up her

view about the experience of death. It is the gateway to the

desired Utopia, or an adventurous journey towards that perfect

and charming world.

Besides this sketchy treatment of the motif of the desired

land in short poems by various authors, one can find lengthy

works dedicated to the notion of exploring imaginary worlds,

and only finding them through death. This exploring takes the

form of spiritual journeys. Naslb ^Arida of the Mahjar school of

poets,and Muhammad cAbd al-Mucti al-Hamsharl the Egyptian

romantic poet, wrote one poem each of an epic range, and both

devoted to speculation about the after-life. Both poems depict

an imaginary journey towards a perfect and elevated world.

CArida called his world Ir a m , after the city by this name

mentioned in the Holy Quran (4), whereas Hamshari called it

Shati* al-ACr a f , after Ikurat al-A^raf in the Quran (5). Both

long poems were dedicated to identifying the unknown way which,

as is hopefully anticipated, may lead to salvation.

I . ^Ala Tariq Ir a m :

Introducing his long poem fAla Tariq Iram "On the Way to
f _
Iram", Arida writes a prologue in which he tries to par a­

phrase the ancient myth relating to Iram. He says:

— 9 C ~
In Arab mythology, Iram Dhat 1- Imad is a
^.wonderful city which a mythical Shaddad b.
Ad built of stones of gold and diamond.lt
 ( 130 )

was thus an enchantment to the sight. Nobody

could stare at it from afar in the daylight.
Then this city of wonders perished and vanish­
ed in the desert. It still exists though, in
a hidden place, abounding with magical p a l ­
aces and unprotected treasures. But nobody
can approach this city. Many people have striv­
ed to discover it, but they perished or were
lost in the desert, or returned home empty-
handed .

^Arida then adds the following explanatory note:

This is the mythical Ir a m . But the Iram which

the author dwells upon in this (epic) is a
spiritual one. He travels far with his caravans
seeking it and describing the road he traverses
stage by stage. At the last stage he imagines
that he has seen a beacon of it from far away(6).

fArida's long poem cAla Tariq Iram was composed in 1925, with

a total of 236 verses. The myth of Iram Dhat ^l-cImad was seem

ingly a poetic dream apt to arouse an irresistible temptation

/■ M
to seek and discover it. Iram according to Arida is a desir­

able world for contemplation, the world which he longs to

reach and explore. This long poem is based on two main notions

First, Iram is the last peaceful refuge that might offer the

pioneer the total fulfilment he longs for. Second, to reach

Ira m , the pioneer (al-murtahil) must be prepared to endure the

journey to it, that is to say, experience the toils of the

road and strive to surmount all the difficulties which might

face him. The ordeal of the journey, in other words, will not

be in vain, for the pioneer will have the reward of finding

Iram at the end of it.

 ( 131 )

In 1953 M. Naimy, CArida's colleague in 91-Rabita al-

Qalamiyya* , wrote an article in al-Adab magazine concerning

( c - - -
Arida's work Ala Tariq Ir am . The article was entitled "Nasib

^Arida:
•
Sh acir 9 l-Tarlq"
• *
"Naslb ^Arlda:
•
the Poet of the Road".

In his description of this work, Naimy pointed out that:

*Ala Tariq Iram is a long poem in which the

poet depicts his struggle, and the struggle
of others like him, aspiring to find Iram
Dhat Jl - fI m a d , the symbol of their spirit­
ual r e f u g e . (7)

In Naimy's words, ^Arida had managed to surpass other Arab and

foreign poets in describing the road of life, on which he

experiences endless yearning for an unknown phenomenon that

glitters attractively from far away but is hardly ever attain-

c —
ed. Arida's long poem depicts life as being little more than

"a coarse and long road, a road whose beginning is veiled by

the mist of ignorance and its end obscured by the lack of

knowledge"(8). In the words of Naimy, again:

Yes! the persistent march, the road, the road!

and at the end of the road, there is the inde­
scribable aim, the aim of knowledge, repose
and manumission from the bonds of the flesh
and the b l o o d .(9)

To understand the basic framework of this long poem, it

would be necessary to examine, albeit briefly, its various

* See footnote p . 83 above.

 ( 132 )

parts. Under the subtitle, Awwal 91-Tariq "The Beginning of

the Road", cArIda tries to egg an imaginary companion to

persist in his high hopes of fulfilling his celestial aspira­

tion. For then they may taste the pleasure of heavenly bliss

which they were deprived of in their daily life. He says:

J U U I^ I^ J mi % * J L LLf
tiI ■*»- Li. J bL U p-S

^ ^ ^anhiMMMaJ

(10) j >-J)J 1 d Lu«^> t .

Rise up, companion of my soul,

Let's follow this longing to the land of perfection.
Rise up, let's ride on the wing of hope
And go beyond the finite world of limitations.
We may see a road in the sky which we can take,
And never return.
In order to reach the abodes which the night offers.
And attain what we are deprived of in life.

But the poet suddenly realizes that he cannot attain the bliss

of the metaphysical world unless he abandons his earthly body.

So he goes on to say:

( 1 1 ) ^ ^ I I® ^ , 1< r t*< r ^1 1

Rise up (and let us move), leave the body to decay.

For death is better than standing still.

Trying to find a link between a previous existence of his

soul before birth, and a latter existence after death, CArIda

 ( 133 )

expresses the belief that his soul existed in an ideal world

before it descended into the earthly body. It therefore keeps

longing to return to its origin, the ideal world where it

came from. Accordingly he pictures death as a "return" r u j u c

and "arrival" w u s u l . In his endeavour to identify the "road

of his return", the poet seems to have encountered the diffi­

culty of distinguishing between the roads which rightly guide

him to his goal, and the misleading roads. Thus he wonders:

1 1.3-^ 1
J —

(12) I )I l",»-J, .mi.11

Is there a way for (our) return?

Is there a hope of arrival?
My soul wonders, not knowing what is
" possible or impossible.
0 my companion, I am bewildered,
And the right road is hard to discern.

Soon, however, a good omen appears. It is the lightning, the

guiding sign at the beginning of the road. The poet conceives

of lightning as the fire of former caravans which preceded

him on the road. He consequently feels that if he proceeds to

dog their steps he may reach his aim:

O - ij hJ 1 <J_f)^ d-j b 6 hf— ^ j J I

Il j J I 0-3 j Jj tu - S ^
I k.
11 tifi.lfr f t*.i.. I. ^ i ^^L ? ^ ^
(13) 0 3 J - J^ ' 1— hi- Lw
 ( 134 )

Look at the lightning? Do you see it?

It is the beginning of the road.
Look, there is a secret in the lightning
Which my soul perceives.
Don't you conceive of the lightning as the fire of the
caravans which preceded us on the road?
Let's dog their footsteps,
And we will come to the source of the light.

As the lightning flashes out, the poet starts to walk onwards

heading towards the glorious goal. But the goal is remote and

obscure, and bewilderment, exhaustion and darkness begin to

threaten the poet's progress. But his longing never diminishes.

He is neither bogged down by the sand, nor does fatigue, or

any other obstacle prevent him from pursuing the fragrance

which he feels must emanate from the destined land:

j \>-j f~{. j j I (w>

^ •v Id ^ 1 flu l . 1 L ( V ^ ^ o J ) o*- *- ^
L, Ik* ,j-S

IS j 15

V 1 ’L f L'u u W j-* (Ja t 15.^ 1 !

? Lj ^ ^ "- j" ^ ^ (_5 (

■ \£ ' <3®

t LullU I

J 1 • ■» 1 1 i1! . ■•» ■ V J1. «_jJ 1

J L*£J 1 j ^ J ^ ij j** jJ
V L LrPj—~ U
(14) t«i 1—* ^ i.Vft 1 ^
 ( 135 )

The night shrouds a caravan

Weighed down by their passionate longing.
They do not know which route leads to reunion.
Among the caravans my heart pines away with longing.

Are we going to reach the place?

Are we going to realize our dream?
Will our road come to its end,
Before our energy is sapped?
Woe to us, for difficulties surround us on all sides.

Do not be concerned about the sands

Nor be hindered by any trammels.
The caravans have advanced
To the source of light and perfection.
Hurry my heart,
Be guided by the fragrance.

Overwhelmed by the excitement of adventure, the poet's imagin­

ation is stirred to evoke fanciful images of Tram, as the

following three verses illustrate:

cJ J J L->w \j,j^

We crossed oceans of sand whose horizons

were mere mirages,
Through which palaces arose with lofty towers
Penetrating the clouds.
The mirage (seems) to flow throughout
Like rivulets of nectar.

Eventually, the beacon of Iram appears glowing far away

above a high peak. The poet cries out: "That is the beacon

of eternity, the beacon of felicity, which the reluctant never

attain" :
 ( 136 )

1 (3>» J* d-» « £ L-0

Y I ^ La cS^- JL5 li^, L
IpJ 1 j dUb

f^U=J1 I f lJ n i
L ft) ..
I.,i*? t ^ LmlJ 1 JLi
( 1 6 ) ^ J) ~ 1 JL*- *

0 my companion, do you see above the peaks

A lightning spreading far beyond?
It is the fire of immortality.

People lost their way to it,

And got used to darkness.
Iram's beacon is calling those who are asleep:
Come on sleeping ones to the greatest felicity.

Approaching the end of his journey, the poet realizes that he

cannot attain the honour of standing before thebeacon of

Iram unless he willingly experiences death. Only by immersing

himself in the experience of death can he satisfy his hunger

and accomplish his journey:

cij-b J5 J*— -s j L; ti,1."

Jy>JtJ 1L— J j 1*> l^«.i,1I (i®-
1 0I

^ 1^ slJ t ^ Lj tiiis
„ty u — t^ j
(17) I j
 ( 137 )

That beacon tempts the sights of the aspiring,

And there is no way to it but through death,
When all the bonds come undone.

That is the beacon of hospitality*,

The beacon of the hungry.
Whoever walks to it
Will never return.
H e ’ll become part of the fuel which feeds it.

£ _
In the end Arida composes his own exciting "song of the

open road", in which he encourages himself to quicken his

steps towards the goal of his quest. For the road is visible

now, the call is clear and his thirst is desperate:

*—**« in < L«-.l (jfti J <^-1 1(i) to W

JJ j J 1 p li— £ J|__________ _a— I
j I p I; .«>_>

•* ‘

J j ___________ <iLU>
Co

p lj U I<"■> J3 p UjU *cr -5

j jf « ^ a L«fcj p 1.- . I LJ_L*J j ^

(18) ^ "!■'

* A reference by the poet to how the Arabs in the desert used

to light fires on high places to guide travellers in need to
their tents, where they would find help and hospitality.
 ( 138 )

Let's walk towards that beckoning brightness.

(Let's) exchange the darkness of the earth,
the misery of existence
With the light of reunion.

0 my remote light
Sparkle and shine as you like.
My sight will never turn away from you
Until I reach my death.

Sparkle, sparkle in the vast space.

1 have heard the call.
Hope is my guide,
And I trust it to guide the thirsty to the fount.

it it it it it

I I . Shiti3 al-ACraf

The long poem of Shati3 al-ACraf "The Shore of al-ACraf"

by Hamsharl was published in Apollo magazine in 1933, and is

_ c —
in 307 verses. Surat al-A raf of the Holy Quran (19) was,

apparently, the main inspiration of Hamshari's long poem. As

a point of clarification, the poet appended this footnote to

his work:

a _
Al-A r a f ,as it has been interpreted by the
interpreters of the Quran, is a place b e ­
tween heaven and hell. But in this work the
name is given to an imaginary shore which
lay beyond the borders of life, but over­
looks the world of dea th .(20)

To illustrate the way the poet conceives of this work,

 ( 139 )

Hamshari added:

When the poet died, the goddess of poetry

took him on board her magical boat and
sailed across the ocean of time. Then she
anchored on this shore. The poet, all
along his journey, describes the wonders
of death which he has witnessed - the w o n ­
ders which every poet's imagination dreams
o f .(21)

How did the idea of this work emerge? This question is rais ­

ed in the prologue of the long poem written by the poet hi m ­

self. In this prologue Hamshari depicts a particular atmos­

phere of mystery and awe in which the idea of this long poem

first suggested itself to him:

I was standing beyond al-Jazira watching

the Nile, the eternal river which seems to
me as if it were a poet singing before death
meaningful songs, but whose meanings get
lost in the haunting tunes. I frequently
visited a quiet spot there in the evenings.
This spot overlooked the Nile and a ma rve l­
lous view of high trees and bushes. At night
the view becomes remarkably impressive. This
atmosphere was basically the incentive of
the emergence of Shati3 al-Acr a f . The Nile
was but the river of life and death, whereas
the awesome darkness intimated to me the awe
of eternity throughout the realm of al-
A ^ r a f .(22)

To acquaint ourselves with the basic framework of Hamshari's

long poem, it will be helpful to examine the essential parts

of the work. This may provide a clear perception of the poem

as a whole.
 ( 140 )

/■ —
In order to reach the shore of al-A raf and experience its

phantasy, Hamshari resorts to the "ships of death". With these

ships the poet hopefully starts the adventurous voyage towards

the final spiritual refuge of al-Acr l f 's shore. Although dark­

ness is spreading all over the horizon, the ships of death

begin to sail smoothly enhanced by a flag pointing to the

shore and a high spirit guiding the poet onwards:

1..1 < l l > ^ S L j .^ h w lli 1 *3 h-£- Cl—* '**' ^ ■f' ■

I# IjLwV ^ 1^ J I if-i I LyjJ

L>5 I ■ hill -M II(jJ I t .m*■ d_> 1^-1 J
(2 3 ) ' ■* I® ^ 1 If-A mU L iiJ 1 L ^ J Ih L a s

The ships of death emerged from the mist

And proceeded smoothly with those on board.
Death enveloped them (the ships) with its black haze
As they sailed through darkness.
On top of them there was a flag pointing to the shore,
And a high spirit guiding their speedy move.
As soon as the voice of death passed them,
They lifted their sails as if to listen with care.

Among the ships of death appears the poet's ship. Its course

is not a smooth one. Terror and hardship surround the poet

and his ship. But aspiration of reaching his goal almost

provides the poet with new energy and make his ship move with

greater speed (24). The poet suddenly becomes aware of a bril­

liant light spreading throughout the horizon. When he asks

about it, he is told that the light was caused by the appear-
 ( 141 )

ance of the goddess of poetry. The goddess seems to have over­

come the storms and the high waves and emerged before the fa­

tigued poet in all her magnificence. Thus the poet says in

amazement:

V (ld b. I^ ii*»i ^^ in...1^? 1 ^ ^ ^ ^

What sort of light is this that overwhelms the horizon

And spreads brilliantly throughout the expanses?

The goddess answers him:

d_i! ^ t -rt I1 ^ pi*~^ j <j-: j t 11 ^ 1I h* t

IV
(25) ^—I t | Lrf bvJLl 1 ^ iw < i.ii ft iJ-S ^ 1f|h JLd

0 my poet, it is my mount which radiates light.

It has surmounted the storms and the waves to be with you.

As the meeting takes place between the goddess of poetry and

the aspiring poet, the goddess seems to have been pleased to

reward the poet, since he bravely sustained the suffering and

the toils during his adventurous voyage. She says to him:

IblP ^ t «JLS L-f !«JlP fjJ! 1^".,mtOc d k o t C t I

v
V u= jv i t*5wi j ____ ± u \ S j __ z j ^ id
(2 6 ) v—* I J I *-n A.... ^ cs-^^ i■ I ^ ^ *
 ( 142 )

O.my poet, you patiently tolerated indescribable suffering.

You seem to me in the ecstasy of thought to be suffering
great affliction.
Do you like to accompany me to paradise,
The land of beautiful maidens (l i t .gazelles ) ?

The goddess's reward to the poet consists in welcoming him in

the "paradise of the poets", where he can experience endless

felicity. She therefore goes on, in further verses, describing

this paradise and demonstrating the pleasures available in it.

The goddess seems to have thought that guiding the poet to the

"poets' paradise" will satisfy his ambition, since he will be

overwhelmed by the songs of birds, the melodies of the maidens,

and the scenes of copious fruit and flowing streams. Moreover,

he would be received by nymphs who would joyfully proceed to

welcome him to the "poets' paradise". Fulfilling her promise,

the goddess was intending to leave the poet in the "poets'

paradise" and return to al-Acr a f 1s shore to guide more lost

souls to their promised destination. Being enamoured of more

knowledge and discovery, the poet insists on accompanying the

goddess to al-Acr a f 's shore in order to witness the manifest­

ations of death, and verify to himself whether they are pleas­

ant or horrible. The poet thus appeals, in the following

verses, to the goddess not to leave him behind:

*? V -- J) I d— J'J ? ? (5 b

^ t L .ft J| V C<j) ■*'1 I I (iJ J ^ .ft ^

 ( 143 )

What do I see? Are you going away?

0 goddess of poetry...woe to y o u . ..do not leave me.
Where are you going (in the mist) of death?
Come on take me with you...take me with you.

The goddess answers:

j U p Ij 1 J-CLs I

Enjoy the bliss of paradise,

Which abounds with fruit and shade.
1 will face various horrors
Which can cow the storms and threaten lives.

At last the goddess seems to have responded to the poet's

appeal and agreed to take him with her to al-Acr a f 1s shore.

She accordingly says:

£ U J U 1 i_*5 IS p Ua-"u-w* I jJ 1 c?.

<\ U <d !— a

( 2 8 ) L, jjt , - * P L . q J I J jS b tS j 1 ■ t«fl> y A ..j I p ^ J 1 , _ y - L - * > U a — Is

Here is my ship glittering through darkness

Like a shining star.
Come with me then,
And let's go together through the terror of death.

As soon as the poet approaches the shore of al-Acraf on

board the goddess's ship, he begins to hear lovely sounds

 ( 144 )

emanating from the "organ of death". Enjoying the delightful

tunes, the poet asks the goddess about the essence of what

he hears and the secret of his spiritual ecstasy. "It is the

organ of death", says the goddess, "reiterating various tunes

of the manifestations of life which existed one day, and now

are but echoes passing through the ears".

The various tunes that found their way to- the poet's aware­

ness are subsequently followed by the appearance of al-A cr I f 1s

shore shining through the darkness. Suddenly the poet starts

astounded, andexclaims:

V li tj__ 1 LrJ j y Z ^ *1 9 L» 1a \j 1 L <j Ljj 1

0 my God! what am I seeing in front of me?

What a light in the midst of such darkness?!

Then the following exchange follows between the goddess and

the poet:

: 1
* • • ii 1 Ja--£
( js - t_£j I )
? ii I' J y 1 ‘Tjk I 1J la £ Sl,1

* 1
(29) (_s Ij L. Jl* ! ^-iLo ^ •-£ Ls»£ —‘ cj
 ( 145 )

The goddess:
It is the shore of al-Acraf

The poet:
What is this shore that is named al-Acr a f ?

The goddess:
It is the home of the scattered tunes
And the abode of the wandering souls.

Later on the poet realizes that the delightful light which

he had witnessed on his arrival at the shore of al-Acrlf was

not the only manifestation. There are other phenomena which

almost suggest awe and gloom. The goddess herself proceeds

to depict some of those overawing scenes:

CjVj * - d.SyS 0*“* ^~i3 ^-------- -1P ^ 1 L(— «*-5—'

£ t • tS /i ■ l c ^ |j . * LoJ Ijlp to I

bi
t 1| 5■ —- J- d,_*L
-l ^ h J—
JI

^ 1 I J j u cs

A ■‘T L*o- j ^rj) ■* 'J'-rJ^ 3~f. 3 s £ 3 *-^ ^ J

( 3 0 ) < L J I J V 1 Lfc <_J-S * - 9 t O I <0 l . J a 1 ^ - 9 j -S <_>-«» o I*. I L

There is nothing to revive the hopes (on that shore)

But the white snow on the cliffs.
The storms blow violently, roaring and wailing.
The trees rising up through the space like ghosts
Clothed with darkness, wrapped with its wing.
The lightning flashes through the darkness like wounds.
 ( 146 )

The waves in succession,

Rising high and beating against the shore.
Darkness above darkness
Through which nothing could be perceived.

Going through all these manifestations, the poet realizes

c —
that what he had seen is but a part of al-A r a f 's shore, and

that there is still more which is unknown to be discovered.

Urging him to move to other places on that shore, the goddess

sa ys :

ti UuoJ 1 p LiiJ Li < Llfo Ifc L% 1_sL. til LsLS js- \_t L a^, 1

(31) ti \ j ft 1

0 my poet, you do not need to stay here any longer.

The expanses of the shore extend endlessly.
This is not the whole shore of al-Acr j f .
It is but a part of it.

The next move they make was to qabr al-layali "the grave of

the nights’

p
rt. Lp 1 (_j-Lc. Ij Li

V 3 3 * '*•q 3s t d ^ jj—
(32) L-9 j} 1— Vj 1

Suddenly an edifice appears on the horizon

Enveloped by the pallor of death.
Whenever you glance at it,
Your sight is struck by death and turns back.
 ( 147 )

It is a dreariness that conquers peace and safety.

It is terror followed by terror, all caused by death.

Subsequently the poet observes the procession of the various

manifestations of life proceeding towards their destination

;
which is darih al-iayall "the tomb of the nights":
* • /
i
(

h-U t u-J 1
J 1 JLA-, J \ J £ ; <_> U>^ I(_£

lywu j d_S— L
>-C ^ »» J

a—S-b* J U ^J 1<3jj}j <S

j* L k Cr twi*L <
(33) f t ■■■■■■* l^_15 jf o 1.c<•*< tjr^— ^ <Sj^ j

There is the procession of the various forms of life

Proceeding slowly towards the tomb of the nights.
It is the destination of the ages after completion
And the abode of the generations
After fulfilling their terms.
Various boats sail behind (this procession),
And emerge like flags.
There is the "boat of beauty" with singers on board,
Singing for peace.
And there is the "boat of evil" with singers on board
Singing for wickedness.
And there are various boats following them
Lifting their sails bedecked with sins.

Eventually, the procession of the manifestations of life

vanishes within the "tomb of the nights" like a passing dream

or imaginary vision, whereas endless tranquility begins to

govern the whole atmosphere.

 ( 148 )

At the end of this long poem, the reader comes to the scene

of a sad singer who tries to play a tune on his broken lyre,

but he cannot do that. Apparently, this singer is the symbol

of the poet himself. He is overwhelmed by a persistent long­

ing to explore the world of death and its secrets. But in the

end he seems to be disappointed, because he does not find the

pleasant fantasies he anticipated and dreamt of. He therefore

stands looking over the "valley of death" deprived of all his

tunes and hopes. He now owns nothing but a broken lyre on

which he cannot play a single tune. It looks as if the cruel

will of death were able to frustrate the poet and conquer his

aspirations. No wonder that the last verses reiterate echoes

of total despair:

J 1 . Mi. 1 I t j*1 I L . ft tJJ “ ■*> J t— b C . 1 t —

J I<" £.% i,l1i?* *..<I j J IL9j Ip L 1 ^-9

L u s j t i <* I I b 1 .i. !>J eJ 1^ 1 L« t 1

(34) 1 .i. j) *1 Ljlc Cfc.iip j} 11,j* 1 t*>p —)I jlJ LJ 3p^

0 singer of death, your silence is prolonged.

Come on, play a tune... 0 singer.
Come on composer of death, sing and let music spread
Over the silence of the valley.
Alas, you seem unable to play any tune.
Relate to poetry what happened to your lyre.
Cursed be the hand which ruined it,
And deprived the strings of their songs.

k k k k k
 III. COMPARATIVE STUDY OF THE TWO LONG POEMS:
C* — Hi ^ ^
Ala Tarlq
• A Iram and Shati3
* al-A raf

Examining the two long poems CAla Tariq Iram by cArida and
• •

Shati-7 al-Acraf by Hamshari, one may find that the two works

have many elements in common. Both long poems reveal a poetic

aspiration to discover the unknown. The unknown according to

^Arida was viewed as a "road through a d es e r t " ,whereas in

Hamshri's work it was imagined to be a "shore beyond an ocean"

These worlds of speculation in both poems are depicted as the

realm of the ultimate glory, perfection and beauty. In ^Arida'

words, "I yearn for the land of brightness and beauty". And

in Hamshari's words, "0 my God! What am I seeing?! What a

light in such darkness!"

Apparently, the two poets perceive of their desired worlds

as a spiritual refuge which could not be attained but through

c -
the experience of death. Arida depicts death as an experience

of "riding on the wing of hope", and abandoning the "world of

limitations" and the bonds of the earthly body. Likewise,

Hamshari pictures the experience of death as a voyage, and him

self as a sailor proceeding on board the "ship of death" t o­

wards the realm of mystery.

The other aspect common to both poems is the reference to a

guide or a sign which represents the beginning of hope. This

 ( 150 )

sign would announce the first indications of the ultimate

goals for both poets. In cArida's poem the guiding sign is the

appearance of the lightning, whereas in Hamshari's poem the

sign is the flags of the ship of death which were pointing to

the shore, while the ship seemed to be steered by a mighty

spirit. This spirit is eventually pictured as the goddess of

poetry who becomes the prominent guide of the poet while e x ­

ploring the mysteries of the shore of al-Acr a f .

The terms "road", "departure" and "travelling" are frequent­

ly used in both poems as a means of exploring the unknown

c —
realm of death. In Arida's work, the road is a road in a

desert, and people are but successive caravans continuing

their journey through the hardships and tribulations of travel­

ling in this desert. Their hearts abound with longing to reach

the desired imaginary goal. The image of the desert seems to

be depicted meticulously with all its features. ^Arlda utilizes

particular elements in drawing a vivid picture of the desert.

These elements are: the caravans, luggage, camels, cameleers

and the sounds of the bells around the camels' necks. He also

mentions the sands, thirst and even the ruins and the remains

of the preceding caravans and tribes. The employment of such

elements within the framework of the poem succeeds in provid­

ing a realistically vivid background of a journey through a

desert.

In Hamshari's poem the means of his journey was the sea.

The procession which he joined was simply a ship sailing across

 ( 151 )

the ocean. Therefore the hardships which encounter Hamshari

f —
differ from those which encounter Arida. As far as a travel­

ler on board a ship is concerned, the toils will be reflected

in the storms and the dreary and misleading darkness, whereas

the hardships encountered in a desert would be the thirst, the

midday heat and the deceptive mirage. In general, there is a

considerable concentration on describing the toils and ha r d ­

ships of the journey in both poems. Likewise, depicting the

struggle and the perpetual efforts needed to surmount diffi­

culties seem to have received great attention. The attitude

of bravery on the part of the traveller is apparently a pre­

requisite for reaching the perceived goal. This goal is defin-

ed by Arida as "the beacon of Iram" and by Hamshari as "the

shore of al-Acra f".

Besides these common essential elements which constitute the

basic framework of the two long poems, one may notice the d e ­

liberate usage of particular metaphors. The terms of "darkness

and "light" and their analogues are suggestive expressions

which abound with metaphorical indications. No doubt the term

"darkness" and others corresponding to it such as "the veil of

the night", "mist" and "haze" indicate l o s s ,bewilderment and

the mystery of the unknown. On the other hand, the various

analogues of the term "light" suggest the good omen, or the

first indication of reaching the desired destination. The meta

phor of "light" used by cArida in contexts such as: "the br il ­

liance of beauty", "the source of radiance", "the beacon of

 ( 152 )

eternity", and "my remote light", corresponds to its use in

verses by Hamshari like the following: "what a light that over­

whelms the horizon and spreads brilliantly throughout the ex ­

panses", "it is my mount which radiates light" and "what a

light in such darkness?!".

Apart from elements which are common to the two poems, one

may at the same time find differences, and especially at the

end of the poems. For each poet seems to have tackled the end

of his poem in a totally different manner. cArida, one may

notice, tries from the beginning to define his target which is

the "beacon of Iram" . At the end he seems to realize his dream

and attain what he longed for by reaching the desired beacon.

According to cArida, this was the ultimate fulfilment and sat­

isfaction of his spiritual quest. Going through Ham sh ar i1s

work, one can realize that the satisfactory refuge was offered

to the poet by the goddess,and that was"the p o e t s 1 pa radise".But

it seems that the pleasures and felicities which were available

in that paradise were not the ultimate aim of the poet. His as­

piration and curiosity were seemingly devoted to exploring more

wonders and more about the unknown, such as the shore of al -

A cr a f . His adventurous spirit was apparently motivated at that

stage of his trip to witness the conflict between life and

death on that shore, and to observe the dominant will of death

closely. Thus at the end of his poem, Hamshari depicts himself

as a miserable and frustrated explorer. To embody this state

of despair, he uses the symbol of a singer with a broken lyre

on which he could not play a single tune.

■>v -
a- >v *
 FOOTNOTES TO CHAPTER III

(1) B a d a Jic , p . 208

(2) Diwan, II, p. 37-8

(3) Ib i d , p.40- 44

(4) Surat al-Fajr, vii, viii; See also: al-Hamawi, Yaqut,

M u c jam al-Bu id an, ed: Reinaud, Herrn J.T, Paris, 1899,
p. 212-216; The Encyclopaedia of Is la m, II, London, 1927,
p. 519-20
(5) Verses: xlvi, xlvii; The Encyclopaedia of Isl am , I,
London, 1960, p. 603,4

(6) A r w a h , p . 178

(7) N o . 5, 1953, Beirut, p.9

(8) Ib i d , p .8

(9) Ib i d , p . 9

(10) A r w a h , p . 179

(11) Ibid , L o c .cit

(12) I bi d , p . 180

(13) I b i d , L o c .cit

(14) I bi d , p . 182,3,4

(15) I bi d , p. 192

(16) I bi d , p . 196

(17) Ibid, Loc.cit

(18) I bi d , p .197

(19) Verses: xlvi, xlvii

(20) "ShatiJ al-ACrif", Mai all at A p o l l o , Feb, 1933, Cairo,

p. 645, (Shati5)
 ( 154 )

(21 Ibid , Loc.cit

(22 I b i d , p .627-8

(23 Ibid, p .631

(24 Ibid, Loc.cit

(25 Ibid, p. 632

(26 Ib id , p.633

(27 I bi d , p.634

(28 I bi d , p.634~5

(29 I bi d , p .639.

(30 I bi d , p . 6 3 4 “40

(31 I bi d , p. 641

(32 Ibid , Loc.cit

(33 Ibid, p. 643

(34 I bi d , p. 644-5

k k k k k
 CHAPTER IV

THE DUALISM OF LIFE AND DEATH:

DILEMMA AND SOLUTION

Gibrin (1883-1931), Naimy (b.1889) and Shibbi (1909-1934)

were perhaps the first among the Arab literati in modern

times to try to offer concrete suggestions to overcome the

dilemma of the dualism of life and death. They could be con­

sidered as the first propagators of the theme of "the unity

of existence" in modern Arabic. This theme is visualised and

presented by these authors as an appropriate solution to the

problem of the dualism of life and death.

One must, however, point out that "the unity of existence"

is a philosophical concept which was first adopted and propa­

gated by the Muslim Sufis, and found its fullest expression

in their works. It is a philosophical and mystic theory which

primarily "discards the aspect of dualism between God and

creation and regards the whole of existence as one u n i t y " (1).

It also asserts that although "the universe consists of many

things and diverse forces, it is a single entity with one

es sence"(2).

Gibran's and Naimy's understanding of the "unity of exist-*

 ( 156 )

e n c e " , seems to have many affinities with Sufi ideas and

ideals (3), since most of their works reveal a basic convic­

tion that the universe is one in all its phenomena, and that

the different forms that creation takes and the diverse

forces which govern the universe are but various manifesta­

tions of one essence. This belief in the unity of existence

is expressed in a simple manner in Naimy's poem IbtihalIt

"Supplications", which shows a genuine endeavour to observe

the various manifestations of life as expressions, one might

say, of the over-soul or the Creator:

ijj ^j t

^ . 1 o-* * y r ^ 1 j y -~- or*

t^p—? ( ^ 1^— t 1^.,ufi ftfrS
(4) j LiJJ 1 J_«j ,jJ t \^ t 5LSJ \ 'jJ

0 God, have my eyes endowed with rays of your light,

So that they may see you in all beings:
In the worms of the graves,
In the eagles of the sky, in the waves of the sea,
In the wells of water in wilderness, in the flowers,
In the green grass, in gold and in the sands of the deserts.

The important point to stress in discussing the theme of the

unity of existence is the positive function it served in hel p­

ing to dispel, in the poets' minds at least, the contradictions

 ( 157 )

of the dualism of life and death. The Sufis seem to have had

a special concern to arrive at a solution of this problem.

In Fusus al-Hi kam , Ibn CArabi 560(1165)-638(1240) wrote about

an aspect of the Sufi theory of creation called Tajdld al -

Khalq bi Jl-Anfls "The Renewing of Creation at Each Instant"

or "at Each Breath"(5). This theory of creation states that:

There is no temporal interval between annihi­

lation and re-manifestation, so that we do not
perceive any interruption between two analog­
ous and successive creations, and thus exist­
ence appears to us to be ho mo ge neo us.(6)

Perceiving the idea of constant cycles of existence or success­

ive creation, Gibran, Naimy and Shabbi seem to be prepared to

express their modern understanding of the unity of existence

in similar terms. Examining the works of these authors and

poets, one may find that Gibran and Naimy in particular seem

to have devoted a lot of attention to the theme of the unity

of existence, and that they use it extensively to explain the

usual dilemmas of the dualisms of life. The theme appears in

their works distinguished with an element of maturity, which

results perhaps from their presentation of the theory as a

sort of a fully integrated philosophy or explanation of life.

I . Sh a b b i :

Shabbi's understanding of the unity of existence seems to

have gone through three stages of gradual assimilation and

 ( 158 )

comprehension. One cannot find a whole poem inShabbi's verse

which is devoted entirely toan exposition of this theme. Yet

most of his works are not devoid of some element or other of

an inherent belief in the unity of existence. In the first

stage, Shabbi seems to have viewed man as a separate entity

from the rest of existence. This stage could be described as

the stage of "separation" between the spirit of man and the

spirit of existence. It is the stage in which Shabbi thought

of human life as being evanescent and totally at the mercy

of "Time". The human being, he believed, will die and perish

one day, whereas existence is perpetual. For this reason,

Shabbi initially adopted an attitude of despair and pessimism,

and one of rejection and condemnation of the dismal fate of

man. In her article "Abcad 51-Zaman wa al-Makan fi Shi^r ^1-

Shabbi" "The Dimensions of Time and Place in Shabbi's Poetry",

S.Kh. Jayyusi called this particular understanding of Time in

Shabbi's poetry al-Ru3ya al-Ufuqiyya "the horizontal observa-

tion"(7). The distinguishing mark of this stage, one may say,

is the poet's complete surrender to the will of death. In one

of his poems entitled Fi ZillWadi 1-Mawt "In the Shadow of

the Valley of Death", Shabbi echoes the deep distress of an

alienated soul unable to tolerate the dullness of life;

? l l 1 i 'j-* <J5t*
V 1^)I 'IO-* 1L* j— J LsL5i d I j j • C— l.fl
? t<11 tt ^ Lj J} ^ ■■— ■■IIII O t IS *..f

(8 ) LT*"-8-'* O-9-5^ 3 CJ^^ IQ j f cr3 Ja >•^ ( 6JZ Lfi

 ( 159 )

Encircled by mist,
My soul cried out in bitter weariness:
Whither shall I go?
I said: walk on with life.
It replied: What did we reap from walking yesterday?
I collapsed like a parched and withered plant and cried:
Where, 0 heart, is my spade?
Bring it, that I may dig my grave
In the silence of darkness and bury myself.

In al-Ashwaq J l-Ta3iha "The Vagrant Longings", the awareness

of being an alien in the vastness of existence becomes more

persistent. Shabbi draws an image of a lost and lonely wander

er who longs for some real attachment to the "core of life"

"samim al-Hayat". He seems to have realized that being a lone

ly spirit separated from the "core of life" might be the main

cause of his alienation and suffering. Shabbi therefore per­

sists in seeking signs of relief, and expecting guidance.

This is a fragment of his appeal:

0 core of life, I am lonely, deluded and lost.

So where is your sunrise?
0 core of life, I am a bewildered heart., thirsty..
So where is your exquisite wine?
0 core of life, the flute is silent,
And the horizon is veiled,
So where is your lightning?

These questions of Shabbi's about "sunrise" and "lightning"

 ( 160 )

seem to be uttered in a hopeless tone revealing an attitude

of total pessimism.

The second stage of Shabbi's development was that of compari­

son between the temporariness of human life and the perpetuity

of the cycles of nature. This stage could be described as the

stage of learning from nature and trying to be in harmony with

it. Resorting to nature seemed to be the gateway which enabled

Shabbi to raise the siege of pessimism. He started to be aware

of the simple fact that although human beings must die, they

always entertain the desire to be eternal. Nature seemed to

offer to Shabbi a way out of his despair and gloom. Its const­

ant cycles of decay and renewal, its restoration of the e s ­

sence of life in seeds and the fresh generation of new v eg et ­

ation every season, all these phenomena seem to have had their

effective impact in reshaping the mind and thought of Shabbi

and replacing his total despair with an optimistic outlook.

The woods, the rivers, the tranquility of the night and other

aspects of nature become welcome resorts offering a deeper in­

sight and understanding. Thus he develops a true relationship

of unity with nature in the hope of deriving more security and

moral strength. But before arriving at his concept of unity

with nature, Shabbi went through a period of drawing contrasts

between signs of weakness in h i m s e l f ,along with the futility

of life, and the powerful signs of vitality and freshness in

nature. In a poem entitled Nashid al-Asa "The Song of Sorrow",

Shabbi becomes aware of the difference between the fading will

 ( 161 )

of his soul, and the glowing life throughout the world of

nature around him. Thus persistent questions begin to be

ra ise d:

? I t J) * 6 L ~ *JL ) h)

<_> J V ' KS* i» J (_y-J L“

J j l» " * O I j j j L» < ji _J (j-J to

* -* ■j t > , I 1 ^ ^j*>ai‘^ t ^ ^..>1 | ^ J I ^ Iju ^ d* ^ ur3

<—> t (jJ > - j 1 ^ -jJ I ^ *i d L ift

I ( 3- s V I ^ c L LAJ 1 j 1 1 ^ t

( 1 0 ) v _ ,k S J t U L» l^ w 3 L * J 1 ^ 1^s1 fJ

Why are the waters around me pure,

Whereas my spring is turbid?
Why am I silent,
Whereas everything in the woods is singing and overjoyed?
Why am I miserable,
Whereas everything in creation is charming and wo nd e rf ul :
Everywhere on earth the feet of Spring
Are touching the barren plains.
And the lights keep appearing from behind the sunset.
The wide universe, the woods and the rosy horizon
Have never lost their longing for life,
And gloom has departed from them.

"When I went to the woods for the first time bearing my dis

tress", says Shabbi "I felt like a child possessed by awe and

ecstasy". This statement appears in a poem entitled al-Ghab

"The Woods". It is another revelation of a nature lover e x ­

pressing a mystical attachment to nature, personified here as

the woods. Overwhelmed by the spirit of the woods, Shabbi

realizes the contradictions between his own despair and dull­

ness and the joyful manifestations in the woods. These are

some echoes of his hymn to his desired refuge- the woods:

 ( 162 )

(_j-* L 1I J L«>iJ I j 1I ^ C - Z 1^ 1u UJ 1jjj < u-< UJ 1(jj-5

^jn.^Lw J h*>J t l^i.'j yp® ) j ! .i ■
■^
■•*1 J U»J I j l—
Jjj_s '■
—^ (1■^-i
(11) O"*^ T i>* J (J—' L>* ^J ’euip U"4*-**^ ^

In the woods, the beloved woods,

The altar of nature and sublime beauty,
I purified my feelings in the flame of beauty
And found peace in the realm of fantasy.
I found that the charm of the universe
Is far beyond my sadness and my pains.

Shabbi's observation of the difference between the super­

iority of nature and the apparent limitations of the human

being,could be regarded as a new tendency that preoccupied his

thought,and prepared him to dwell upon wider concepts in tackl

ing the theme of the unity of existence. While Shlbbi now felt

that man is destined to perish and is, moreover, weak and

limited, he was at the same time confirmed in the idea that

man can learn from nature the lessons of will and fulfilment.

Union with nature and exultation in its perpetual cycles of

regeneration could be the key which might accomodate the d i f ­

ference between man and the universe around him and bring them

together. It is the solution which releases man from being

alone and separate, and attaches him to a wider circle in crea

tion. Moreover, being part of an all-embracing and permanent

universe may successfully overcome the tragic aspect in man's

life which is controlled by factors of decay. Such a line of

thought would make man's role seem like a vital one in a limit

less and permanent whole.

Incorporation in nature, one may say, is the third stage in

 ( 163 )

Shabbi's poetic development. This stage was the outcome of an

obvious will to be lasting and eternal. An echo of fresh faith

in life matched by a strong confidence in death began to spread

throughout Shabbi's most mature poems- al-Sabah al-Jadld "The

New Morrow", Nashld al-Jabbar* "Hymn of the Mighty" and Iradat

al-Hayat "The Will of Life". The message of al-Sabah al-Jadld

consists in the belief that the death of a human being by no

means represents an end. It is merely a passage towards another

phase of being which completes the former one. While welcoming

his awaited death**, Shabbi seems to have praised the "charm

of life", despite its sorrows, and expressed longings at the

same time for the "dawn of death". He says in al-Sabih al-Jadid

V oJ U
J $-*-£
Ol
w

O' ^

0 3 ^
£ 1^—^ L. (j * *1 'w ^
^ i i '1 Cj t

(12) 0 3 J ^ ’ F }J 3 t 1^ ' 3

* The other title given to this poem, Hlkadha Ghanna Prometheus

"Thus Sang Prometheus", clearly shows the extent to which
ShibbI and many other contemporary Arab poets, particularly in
the Apollo group, were influenced by the English romanticists.

** Shabbi, as is well known, died young at the age of twenty

five, and his life has in many ways been compared to the life
of the English poet, John Keats. Like Keats, he had premoni­
tions of his death, which can be traced in some of his poems.
 ( 164 )

The cha_rm of life is eternal, never vanishes.

So why do we complain of a darkness that would not last?
The morrow comes and the seasons pass.
(A fresh) Spring will come as soon as the (old one) passes.

Calm down 0 wounds, abate 0 sorrow,

The epoch of mourning and futile thoughts has died.
And the morrow is appearing from behind the centuries.

Commenting on al-Sablh al-Jadid, M.M.Badawi states that,

of course, Shabbi finally welcomed death as

the only means to end his suffering. But what
is interesting is that his address to death
is by no means an expression of total defeat.
.... Paradoxically enough, and as is abun­
dantly clear from a study of his imagery,
Shabbi now regards death as a means of attain­
ing a fuller and more significant lif e.(13)

A similar echo of determination could be heard in Nashld al-

Jabbar, where Shabbi says enthusiastically: "I shall live

despite sickness and foes". Badawi feels that,

Shabbi advocated a basically heroic attitude

to life which, not ignoring the element of
suffering, preaches the value of the struggle
for its own sake, life being a value in it­
self . (14)

The poem Iradat al-Hayat seems to be the culmination of

Shabbi's understanding of the unity of existence. It repre­

sents a very advanced view of the integrated process of decay

and revival, not only in the manifestations of nature, but

also in the whole of creation. The message of the poem can

 ( 165 )

be gathered from the first lines in it, especially these two

verses:

(15) y «J 1 j o I ^ l£J I LrJ c^.J 15 d J J S

The one who is not overwhelmed by longing for life,

Will turn into nothingness and perish.
This is what the universe said to me,
And what its veiled spirit told me.

The most important characteristic of living, in Shabbi's view,

consists in the will to be lasting and eternal. This will

would not be maintained unless the living are equipped with a

positive inclination to struggle and triumph over all the

factors of decay. The victory which the living might obtain

will be realized by the subsequent generations who are the

witness, so to speak, to a perpetual life. This is the basic

idea of the remarkable poem Iradat al -H aya t. Before proceed­

ing further in this discussion, it may be useful to cite a

few more verses from this poem:

zjJ I (3-a^ (J-l* 2L*_*j»wo 2Jj (j-i UJ 1 CaJ li

1£ 1*1 I £ Llw <—I ImQ.
,)1 ^ hi < ^

(16)
 ( 166 )

The woods said in a soft and loving tone

As if it was the sound of music:
As Winter comes, the foggy Winter,
The snowy and the rainy Winter,
The charm of branches, of roses, of fruit will wither.
But the seeds which preserve
The treasure of the passing agewill abide.
Embracing, while being under the snow,
The fog and the rain,
The vision of life
And the green heart of the scented Spring.

The seeds' longing grew and triumphed (over death)

As quickly as the flap of a bird's wing.
They cracked the earth
And glanced at the sweet images of creation.
Spring came with its melodies,
Its dreams and its fragrant youth.
And it said to the seeds:
"You have been granted life and made eternal
Through your abiding offspring".

The poem abounds with hints and symbols of vitality with

connotations beyond their literal context. Symbols such as

« ») i) x u u
earth, rain, seeds, light, are employed to signify the basic

fundamentals of life, whereas expressions like "the coming of

Winter", "snow", "the fading of flowers", "the falling of

leaves" etc... are used as signs of death and decay. Beyond

those manifestations of decay, there is a secret vital power

which seems to know no decay. It is the rebirth of the living

which is conveniently pictured in images such as: "seeds crack

ed the earth", "their longing grew and triumphed (over death)"

"Spring came", "renewal of the bloom of youth" and "you have

become eternal in the future crops you will produce".

There are three points worthy of pointing out while examin­

ing the poem Iradat al-Hayat. First, Shibbi perceives that

 ( 167 )

nature should be glorified, not only for its own sake, as a

resort of peace and felicity, but also because it is the right

teacher of man. From nature man can learn how to love life and

defeat the elements of weakness and futility in himself. M or e ­

over, nature provides man with a plausible justification of

the role of death as a step which prepares the way for new

births. Accordingly, tendencies to rant against death or con­

demn fate in Shabbi's poetry started to become subjected to a

broad scope of understanding and contentment. Second, Shabbi

successfully applies the term "mother" to the earth to denote

its goodness and fertility. The mother naturally provides life

with offspring to preserve the continuity of generations. Like

wise, the earth is but a large womb that is perpetually a

source of regeneration. The essence of life and renewal, there

fore, will abide in the bosom of the mother-earth. It is b e ­

hind the whole fabric of life, and it continuously produces

new life out of death and decay. In other words, the earth is

the great conquerer of death and decay. The third interesting

point which is brilliantly raised in Iradat al-Hayat and which

is worthy of consideration is the idea of regarding the secret

power of the "seeds" as a means of continuity*. The circular

courses in nature which are maintained by the "seeds" made

Shabbi conscious of the fact that "Time" as an existential con

cept is not limited nor "horizontal". Upon reaching this

* The motif of the "seeds" is frequently used by Gibran and •

Naimy. This indicates their direct influence on Shabbi's works
 ( 168 )

mature stage of his development, as Jayyusi points out,

ShabbI seemed to be capable of seeing ’’Time"

as a circular and spiral expansion, in which
phenomenal elements can be returned to their
sources, and be viewed as a new b e g in ni ng .(17)

This is the stage of Shlbbl's "circular observation" al-Ru3yl

? - -
1-Dawriyya (18), in Jay yu si 1s words, not only of Time but

also of the whole of existence.

In his advanced stage, ShabbI could be regarded as a repre­

sentative of his generation who was preoccupied by topics such

as unity with nature, the appreciation of its cycles of con­

tinuity, learning from nature how to glorify life, as well as

how to trust death. A full understanding of these concepts not

only offers a reasonable solution to the problem of the p a ­

thetic fate of man, but also settles the dual aspects of life

and death satisfactorily.

it it it it

I I . Gibrin and N a i m y :

It has been remarked that in examining the most mature works

of Gibran and Naimy, one can regard the two men as "two

candles on one and the same beacon"(19). Another student of

Naimy, N.N. Naimy,also points out, when commenting on the life­

long friendship of Gibran and Naimy:
 ( 169 )

It is only those transcendental theosophico-

mystical elements which they happened to hold
in common before they ever met that made them,
having once met, develop in mutual intellec­
tual and spiritual growth, understanding and
interpenetration until the e n d . (20)

While each of the two authors and poets retained his own style

Gibran and Naimy seem to have worked hand in hand in devel

oping their common literary content. It would hardly be an

exaggeration to say that, stripped of their distinctive liter­

ary garbs, the mature works of both of them become in certain

aspects indistinguishable. This perhaps applies in particular

to their understanding of the unity of existence, and the

theosophical explanation of the problem of death. The con­

stancy of existence according to these two authors is maintain

ed by the circular processes of creation. As long as these

processes are at work, the way of life and death will be one.

Death will lose its particularity and become a part or a func­

tion of life. This is the fundamental precept on which Gibrln

and Naimy built a system of thought which came to constitute

a fully developed theory associated with their names. This

theory, in Naimy's words, rests upon the view that

"one is the road of Life and D e a t h . ...upon the

rim of the wheel of Time. For motion in a circle
can never reach an end, nor ever spend itself.
And every motion in the world is a motion in a
circl e"(21)*

Hence, "if growth be the child of decay, and

decay be the child of growth; if Life be the
 ( 170 )

mother of Death, and Death be the mother of

Life, then verily were they but one at every
point of Time and Space"(22).

The perpetual processes of growth and decay, as Naimy reveals

in the above quotations, not only make of death and life two

integrated elements, but also impart a deep sense of trust and

faith in the continuous renewal of creation. The falling leaves

of Autumn, in a well-known poem of Naimy, are by no means an

image of a complete decay, nor do they represent a dull symbol

of death. The essence of these withering leaves will surely

be restored in the bosom of the earth and revived again in

fresh leaves in the coming season. The falling of the leaves

in Autumn is therefore turned into a joyous scene which

prompts the poet to praise them lovingly:

inh-i. . I 1I j..) L

J I C j LL-J l j_aj i *1 l

(23) ^ ^iS

Fall out, fall out, you delight of the eyes,

You, dancing ground of the sun
And swing of the moon.
0 organ of the night, and flute of the dawn.
 ( 171 )

Go back to the bosom of the earth,

Renew the cycle of the ages.
How many roses before you have blossomed,
And how many have faded.
Fear not what has happened, and blame not fate.
Whoever has lost something of great value (or essence),
Will find it again in the grave.
Go back to the bosom of the earth.

Vegetation in particular seems to be the representative

example in which the concept of renewal is realized. Employing

motifs from nature seems to be the appropriate medium through

which Gibrin and Naimy express their understanding of the unity

of existence. An example of a rebirth originating from a former

stage of decay was primarily derived from the simple image of

the germinating seed. A fresh appearance of a plant will not

come into being unless the seed undergoes a process of germina­

tion and death. This is the picture which emerges from the

following imaginary conversation between two grains of corn in

Naimy's work al-Marihil:

"I don't know what is happening to me," said a

grain of corn to anoth er,"something that I have
never felt before in my life. My heart is throb­
bing, my body is shivering, my head is aching
and my chest is heaving. And even my skin seems
to be tightened on me. Do you think this is what
is called death?". Then the seed shivered and
her voice was choked. When her neighbour turned
towards her, she found that her skin had tight­
ened and a tiny white-green plant had emerged.
The neighbour shouted to her once and again. And
as she did not hear an answer, she realized that
her neighbour was no more. So she cried bitterly.
At that moment, the sun of March was whisper­
ing something in the ear of the breeze, and the
earth was getting ready to welcome a new-born
b e i n g .(24)
 ( 172 )

Gibran is another protagonist of nature and its constantly

fulfilled promises of the renewal of life. Nature, as Gibran

reveals, is the great conqueror of death. In his prominent

work al-Mawakib "The Processions",he uses the woods as a basic

motif in which his beliefs in the goodness of nature turn to

reality. In the woods, death vanishes or becomes a mere illu­

sion, as long as the gracious manifestations of life flourish

continuously. Thus he conceives of the woods as a "Utopia in

which immortality is realized, or an image of the infinite

and the unb ou n de d" (25). Moreover, the use of the woods in

G i br an ’s "Processions" appears, in Jayyusi's words, as a

familiar Romantic symbol where a universal

love exists and all of l i f e ’s dualisms are
conquered: body and soul, good and evil,
life and dea th. (26)

Overleaping the borders of these dualities and stressing his

beliefs in the unity of existence, Gibran declares that:

j — ...<a 11 t_r-k

(27) j *—

There is no death in nature, nor are there graves in it.

Should the month of April be spent, joy does not die with it.
Fear of death is a delusion within the breasts of men.
He who lives a single year is like one who lives for ever.
 ( 173 )

One may say that Gibran's use of the woods and Naimy's

images of the Autumn leaves and the grains of corn are but

attempts at providing representative examples of the whole

cycle of creation. These representative examples seem to point

out that man is not an exception in the eyes of nature as long

as he is a part of its web. Man, in other words, is equally

a part of the processes of nature and subject to its perpetual

cycle of decay and revival or rebirth. Thus, what applies to a

falling leaf or a grain of corn applies to man. It may be said,

in connection with the element of correspondence between man and

the aspects of nature,in N a i m y 's and Gibran's works, that

these concepts can be regarded as preparatory steps towards

forming an ultimate theory about the existential problem of

man's position in creation. Their theory implies that man and

creation are one unity. That is to say,

there is a kind of unity between man and

nature. No separateness exists between
them, nor contradiction.(28)

Gibrin and Naimy depict this sort of total incorporation of

man in nature as a mutual love. The term "mother" is frequent­

ly used to refer to nature and to praise its repose and good­

ness (29). The mother never betrays her children, on the con­

trary, she grants them life, feeds them and protects them.

This role is fulfilled constantly by the mother-nature or the

mother-earth which, likewise, preserves the essence of man

 ( 174 )

just as it preserves the essence of all forms of life. Mo r e ­

over, nature often confirms the total unity between man and

other living beings. What is seen as death and decay often

bursts forth in bloom and flowers to confirm that the very

decay is life and permanence, as Naimy chooses to put it:

L» lhp Li_;^j L> \ j \ L: I

p 1— 5l_> p Ll<U 1 q Lls'js-

Perchance, if we observe how the flowers of Spring

Emerge from dead bones,
We shall realize that death is life,
And life is but graves in rotation.

The death of a man in the eyes of nature, therefore, is as

normal as the falling of a leaf or the fading of a flower.

For the withering leaf will live again in new trees, and the

fading flower will be embodied in new generations of flowers

and fruit. Thus death in its real implication is merely an­

other form of life or a change of appearances but not of e s ­

sences. "Flowers may vanish" says Gibran, "but seeds will re ­

main. And this is the substance of eternity".

^ iiflio11 j j A J . J to1 *
(31) P I a i5 Id j SLij;

And what applies to vegetation, as has been pointed out,

applies also to man in as far as he is incorporated into

 ( 175 )

nature and conforms to its rules.

"Your body which the earth had given you"

says Naimy meditating upon the tomb of a
friend, "is now retrieved by the earth.
The earth kept its promise. It fed you by
its fruit, offered you the scent of its
flowers and shaded you by its trees. And
now the earth has taken back your body in­
to its bosom to feed the grass, the flowers
and the trees by it".(32)

Thus, retrieving life from that which is a dead and vice

versa is, in Naimy's view, an assurance that death is not,

as it seems, tantamount to total decay. Because if it is mere

decay, then life ought to have come to an end. On the contrary

life is continuously renewed by death. Thus "death" as Naimy

says, "is but the route to life" (33). All the elements in

creation including man are combined and integrated into one.

In other words, the whole of existence is but one unity. This

is what seems to be expressed by a parable in one of Gibrin's

works in which a tree addresses itself to man saying:

"My roots are in the deep red earth, and I

shall give you of my fruit". And the man
says to the tree: "How alike we are. My
roots are also deep in the red earth. And
the red earth gives you power to bestow
upon me of your fruit".(34)

The unity of existence which Naimy and Gibran endeavour to

express in their poetry and prose basically rests upon discard

ing lif's dualisms. Dual aspects in phenomenal manifestations

 ( 176 )

are only external appearances because the essences often

incline to be one. This view applies to death and life. They

are not two contradictory elements as much as they are both

functions of one phenomenon. "Life and death are one" Gibran

has al-Mustafa say in The Pr op h et ,"ever as theriver and the

sea are o n e " (35). Being one integrated phenomenon, death and

life in their eternal embrace seem to conquer every doubt of

their being in conflict or of being a source of fear or threat.

The following words of Naimy, for example, reflect a deep

faith in the goodness of the complete cycle of life and death.

He states with complete confidence:

V ljl> tfj ■I I «>~ <3 1. 1 'J) 1 ^

¥ (_£.XI.. ..■■■»» l*> (3 L p f ( j.Ip I.<■j 1^

0 6 ) f ^ l L>4 J) ", t l j l ■WC
- 1J

Is it not that death and life have made

one throne of your brow?
Aren't they, on their throne,
Immersed in an eternal embrace of love?
What else may we desire then?
And what shall we fear?!

The throne on which life and death embrace symbolizes the

culmination of fulfilment. It is an advanced stage of self-

realization, when no fear exists nor threat. In the words of

N. Naimy:
Self realization, therefore, lies in going
out of one's spatio-temporal dimension, so
that the self is broadened to the extent of
including everyone and all t h in gs .(37)

Vc *
 III. REINCARNATION:

THE CONFIRMATION OF THE UNITY OF EXISTENCE

Gibran's and Naimy's belief in the unity of existence is

seemingly enhanced by their view that no manifestation in

creation works individually or can be isolated and seem in­

dependent. A comprehensive web of existence and renewal seems

to govern every living being. Every man in his present life

and condition is the product of previous states of existence.In

the Arabic translation of some of his poems written in English,

Naimy says:

(il_S | >J I j h, Ij J 13 — ft Li ^
(38) y— Jb djp-l bl J>

I am the loom, the wool and the weaver.

And I am weaving myself from the dead and the living.

Expatiating upon this view, in another context, Naimy goes on

to say:

And as you die continually when living, so

do you live continually when dead; if not in
this body, then in a body of another form.
But you continue to live in a body until di s­
solved in God; which is to say, until you
overcome all change.(39)
 ( 178 )

Being alive in the present time is not an accomplishment of

oneself as much as it is the reflection of a perpetual chain

of former lives. Likewise, the living being is the embryo of

further forms of existence. In other words, "you are the Tree

of life. Your roots are everywhere. Your boughs and leaves

are everywhere. Your fruits are in every mouth"(40). It is

the unity of existence realized in nature and man together

and on the same level.

This, in brief, is Gibran's and N a i m y 's basic understanding

of unity between man and creation. But how far does this und er ­

standing of the unity of existence contribute to developing

the concept of death in the works of both writers and poets?

It seems obvious that the main interest of Naimy and Gibran

was in observing the cycle of life in nature. They view crea­

tion as moving in a constant cycle. But a significant addition

to this primary understanding appears in the works of Naimy

where he says:

The drop of water which proceeds from the sea

to accomplish its cycle and then return to
where it proceeded from, this drop will ac­
quire new attributes that it never had before.
Likewise, man proceeds from the heart of exist­
ence and all the secrets of life are enfolded
within him. And when he returns back to the
heart of existence, all the secrets of life
would have been revealed to h i m . (41)

This indicates that the circular motion in creation is by no

means operating in a monotonous manner. It is not a repetition

 ( 179 )

of the same identical process. On the contrary the universe

gradually develops and progresses by these successive cycles(42).

That is to say, creation continuously proceeds towards its

culmination and perfection (43).

This observation of the gradual development of creation

which results from the cycle of motion can be primarily appli­

ed to man as far as he is part of creation and thoroughly in­

corporated in it. The more man goes through the continuous

processes of death and rebirth, the more advanced and enlight­

ened he will become. N. Naimy draws the following conclusion

from his study of Gibran's thought:

Therefore, every death is a rebirth into a

higher state of being.... Thus in a continu­
ous chain of birth and rebirth man persists
in his Godward ascent, gaining at each step
a broader consciousness of himself until he
finally ends at the ab solute.(44)

Gibran himself has al-Mustafa say in The P r o p h e t :

It is a flame spirit in you, ever gathering

more of itself.(45)

The continuous chain of birth and rebirth then is but the

route to cultivating the inner self until it reaches the stage

of total enlightenment. This, one might say, is equivalent to

the state of Nirvana in Buddha's teachings and the divine

heaven in Christianity and Islam. Eastern philosophy seems to

 ( 180 )

be vividly echoed in Naimy's and Gibran's thought, and

especially the belief in reincarnation.(46)

( 47 ) J 1 £ l- ‘-* ;■^1tj-; j iSj> ‘t *. 1) j Csj**.J I (j,-.

"I am death and burial, and resurrection and life" says Gibrln,

who describes death in The Prophet as "a moment of rest upon

the wind, and another woman shall bear me"(48). This doctrine

of reincarnation seemed to satisfy the enquiring minds of

Gibran and Naimy, because it appeared to settle the problem

of death for them. The fundamental principle of reincarnation

rests upon the belief in successive rebirths which, on the

one hand maintain the continuity of life, and on the other

alter the nature of death from being a process of de struction,to

being a process of development and construction. Thus reincar­

nation, in its basic implication, discards the temporariness

of man's existence as much as it discards the limitation of

his physical and spiritual being. Moreover, this doctrine is

almost the embodiment of man's dream of eternal life. Thus

Gibran says:

,jrJft i“ **> La <J UJ L ^y Ja-o V L

(49) 1

If I did not aspire to attain eternal life,

I would not be aware of the songs of Time.

The desirable eternity, accordingly, may be achieved through

reincarnation which enables man, stage by stage, to approach

 ( 181 )

his ultimate self-realization or N ir va na . The conception of

Nirvana seems to be understood by Gibran as an image of a

dawn which "will last for ever". Thus he confidently convinces

himself that:

J - J I?J)|1*0 1 L QM% # L

^j)-^ i^
^ f ^|m^i i)iJ ^^ lift^^
(50) f.j>- i iI I (jf®

One's life is but a dark night that proceeds towards dawn.

And dawn will abide eternally.
The thirst in my heart is proof of the existence of water
In the realm of merciful death.

One may say that N ir v a n a , as it has been viewed by Naimy and

Gibran, is conceived as the analogue of the concept of salva­

tion or total enlightenment which consists in ultimate know­

ledge and ultimate unity with God. Ultimate knowledge as it

has been defined by Naimy is

not knowing the rules which govern the be hav ­

iour of matter and human beings. It is the
knowledge which sets us free from every tie
and which enables our awareness of it to be
as broad as that of our mother L i f e . (51)

In other words, man is almost equipped with the potential to

become "aware of the past, the present and the future and to

be free from the limitations of Time and Place"(52). When man

approaches this sublime state of his consciousness, he shall

 ( 182 )

then experience the real meaning of freedom. Because "know­

ledge, the thorough and ultimate knowledge, is freedom, and

freedom is knowledg e"(53), As man advances through the grad­

ual processes of death and life towards broader awareness and

knowledge, he at the same time advances towards knowing God,

approaching His status and even being incorporated into His

essence. This is expressed succinctly by Gibran where he says:

"The eternal law makes of all accidents a stepping-stone (lit.

ladder) leading to the absolute essence"(54). This stage of

approaching the "Infinite" will be the stage of total enlight­

enment which man has been prepared to go through by his Creat­

or. Thus Naimy pictures God as addressing man in the following

words:

I shall make you die and live and then die and
live again until you achieve the complete know­
ledge of yourself and of Me. Then you will be
beyond the limits of Time and Place and beyond
aging and de ca y .(55)

This is a profound view suggesting that man, while passing

through the expanses of Time in his successive rebirths,wil1

gradually grow and develop until he reaches the summit of self-

realization, that is to say approaching divinity. In N a i m y 's

words:

Man's only glory lies in his gradual ascent

from the human in him to the d i v i n e ; from the
perishable to the unperishable; from the u n ­
beautiful to the beautiful; from delusion to
truth; from Life's appearances to Life's in­
ner u n i t y .(56)
 ( 183 )

Being overwhelmed by the belief in man's ascent towards divin

ity, Gibran does not find it strange to address God with this

pra ye r:

My God, my aim and my fulfilment; I am thy

yesterday and thou my tomorrow. I am thy
root in the earth and thou art my flower in
the sky, and together we grow before the
face of the su n. (57)

This is a revelation of an aspiring soul which is looking for

ward to its ascent to Godhood. This also echoes Naimy's view

that "man is a divine atom which is on its way to itsdivine

source"(58). This, to quote N. Naimy, means that

every man is a God in embryo.... and that the

ultimate end of human existence is for every
man to actualize the God in himself; to ac­
complish the hazardous as ce nt .... from the h u ­
man in him to the divine; whence lies his fin­
al salvation.(59)

Salvation, as it has been perceived by Gibran and Naimy, can­

not be realized in one cycle of human life. For reaching the

ultimate state of enlightenment is far beyond the limitations

of a single lifetime on earth. "The passage to ultimate know ­

ledge is very long and toilsome, it needs a very long time to

be attained stage by stage"(60).

Reincarnation, in this respect, offers man the opportunity

for renewal and development while going through the several

stages of his life in Time and Space. In this manner reincar­

nation also softens the awesome face of death and makes of

 ( 184 )

death "an obedient servant of life and not a mortal enemy"(61).

"I found in reincarnation the satisfactory solution" says

Naimy in an interview, "which offers the human being several

chances to attain salvation"(62). The problem of death accord­

ingly seems to be observed from a new angle by both Gibran and

Naimy. Their observation concentrates on seeing death as a

contributor to the continuity of life and not as a mere d e ­

structive process. With such a stage of understanding, death

seems to lose its negative role and becomes a mere function

of life. This developed view is expressed vividly in the

following verses by Naimy from one of his short poems entitl­

ed Aghmid Jufunaka Tubsir "Close Your Eyes and You Will See":

6 1 ■9 t jj ,1I toJ — Lp ^

(63) 6 I JL^-o 1fjJ j i .*•>—w ctlj I

When death approaches and the tomb is uncovered,

Close your eyes and you will see
That the tomb is the cradle of life.

One may finally add that the doctrine of reincarnation in the

works of Gibran and Naimy contributes to confirming their

bright outlook and their view of death as a mere function of

life. Their optimism is embodied in the image of "man who rises

from the dead to be on the same level with the eternal creation

and the Infinite "God".(64)

 FOOTNOTES TO CHAPTER IV

(1) Sharaf, M.J, Dirasat fl 51-Tasawwuf al-Islami, Beirut,

1980, p . 372 !

(2) H u s a i n ! , S.A.Q, The Pantheistic Monism of Ibn a l - cA r a b i ,

Lahore, 1970, p . 189

(3) Shayya, M.Sh, Falsafat M i k h a 3!! N a i m y , Beirut, 1979,

p. 314; Kh a1 i d , G h as sa n, Gibran al-Faylasuf, Beirut,
1974, p. 326

(4) Hams a l-J uf un, p. 35

(5) Burckhart, T, An Introduction to Sufi D oc tr i n e , Trans.

Matheson, D.M, Northamptonshire, 1976, p . 65

(6) I b i d , p .66

(7) Majallat a l- Fi kr , XX, No.4, Tunis, 1975, p. 29, (Abcad)

(8) A g h a n i , p . 141-2

(9) Ib id , p .112

(10) Ib i d , p .85

CL1) Ib i d , p . 190-1

(12) Ib i d , p .160

(13) Critical Introduction, p . 167-8

(14) Ib i d , p .167

(15) A g h a n i , p . 167

(16) I bi d , p . 168-9

(17) "Abc a d " , p . 30

(18) I bi d , p .29
 ( 186 )

(19 Abu Rizq,_Y, "Nasik * 1-Shakhrub, Rajul Fawqa al-Ghayat

wa al- Ahw a3 ", Majallat al-Makshuf, No .199 ,B ei r ut ,1939 ,p .17

(20 Naimy, Nadim, Mikha il N a i m y , p.274

(21 Naimy, M, The Book of M i r d a d , 1954, Bombay, p .101,(Mi rd ad )

( 22 Ib i d , p . 100

(23 H a m s , p .47,9

(24 Al-Acmal al -Kamila, V, Beirut, 1971, p . 101

(25 cAbbas, I, and Naim, M, al-Shicr a l - cArabi fi ^1-Matnar,

Beirut, 1957, p .71

(26 T r e n d s , I, p . 102

(27 Al -M awa kib , p . 71

(28 Hiwi, Ilya, al-Rumansiyya, p. 174

(29 Gibran Hayyan, p . 176-7; al-Acmal al-Kamila, al-Nur wa

31- Dayjur, V , p. 648

(30 H a m s , p .68

(31 B a d a 3i c , p . 206

(32 Al-Acmal al-Kamila, Zad al-Ma'ad, V, p . 229

(33 I b i d , D u r u b , VI, p. 10

(34 The W a n d e r e r , New York, 1944, p. 58

(35 O p .c i t , p .90

(36 H a m s , p .135

(37 "The Mind and Thought of Khalil Gibrln", p. 63

(38 H a m s , p .138

(39 M i r d a d , p .106

(40 I b i d , p .69

(41 Al-Acmal al -Kamila, Fi Mahabb 31-Rih, V, p.433

(42 Falsafat M i k h a 3il N a i m y , p.42

 ( 187 )

(43) Gibran al-Faylasuf, p. 280

(44) "The Mind and Thought", p . 65

(45) The Prophet, p. 97

(46) Falsafat, p . 318-23; Gibran al-Faylasuf, p . 247-54

(47) B a d a 5ic , p. 204

(48) The Prophet, p . 109

(49) B a d a Jic , p . 206

(50) Ibid. Loc.cit

(51) Al-Acmll al-Kamila, Ya ? bna Adam, VII, p. 99

(52) Ibid, p . 112

(53) Ibid, p . 78

(54) A l - cAwasif, Beirut, 1963, p . 133

(55) Al-Acmal al-Klmila, al-Yawm al-Akhir, II, p . 120

(56) Naimy, M, Gibran Khalil Gibran: A Biography, New York,

1950, p . 263

(57) The Madman, London, (n.d), p . 10

(58) Al-Acmal al-Kamila, Sawt al-CAlam, V, p . 246

(59) Mikha^Il Naimy, p.261

(60) Al-Acmal al-Kamila, Ya *bna Adam, VII, p . 112

(61) Ibid, al-Yawm al-Akhir, II, p . 118

(62) As quoted from Falsafat, p . 173

(63) Hams, p . 9

(64) Gibrln al-Faylasuf, p. 265

 CHAPTER V

DEVELOPMENTS OF THE CONCEPT OF DEATH

IN THE FIFTIES AND THE SIXTIES

I. THE CHANGE IN THE LITERARY MODE AND ITS

EFFECT ON THE CONCEPTS OF POETRY

By the late forties and the beginning of the fifties, Arabic

romanticism was almost on the wane. M.M. Badawl considers

world war II to be the turning point that signalled the waning

of Arabic romanticism. This is because

the second world war proved to be a signifi­

cant landmark in the history not only of
Arabic poetry, but of the whole of Arabic
literature, just as much as it was a turning
point in much of the social and political
life of the Middle East.(l)

Besides, this period witnessed the workings of influences both

from the East as well as the West on the Arab literati call­

ing for commitment and social realism in literary works (2).

Concepts which preoccupied the new generation of writers and

poets are primarily based on a particular understanding of the

 ( 189 )

position of the writer or poet within his community and the

role he must undertake in society. This role was not to be

concerned with the problems of the individual, but to be more

involved with the problems of the community or nation as a

whole. The new principles of social realism appeared to alter

the views and ideals of romanticism which in the late forties

became a target of bitter attacks and criticism (3). Unlike

social realism which depends on objectivity and is deeply con

cerned with the collective experiences of the masses, romanti

cism

was criticized on the ground of being escapist,

immature, wanting in reality, devoid of a hard
core of sense, too vague and lacking precision,
sentimental, false, sugary, too easy, and
v e r b o s e .(4)

Moreover, romanticism, as Badawi again points out, was seen

as being "a literature of ivory towers, or even of being

'adolescent' 1 iterature"(5).

The political and social circumstances of the Arab world

during the forties and the fifties of this century were in

many ways preparing for a drastic change in the content and

purport of literature as a whole. In 1948 there was the

Palestine tragedy which

made many a poet feel ashamed to turn his back

upon the world of men with its incalculable
suffering and its corrupt politics and seek
refuge in a world of beauty and dr eam s. (6)
 ( 190 )

The Egyptian Revolution followed in 1952. Its ideals and

slogans became widely spread throughout the Arab world and

helped to create a widespread demand for change and the estab­

lishment of a new political and social order. On the literary

scene, the call for "committed literature" became ever more

persistent (7), and that at a time when some avant-garde poets

were at work trying to introduce a new movement of "Free

Verse"(8). This movement was not only aiming at liberating

Arabic poetry from the monotony of the traditional ode, dis­

tinguished by monorhyme and the fixed number of feet in every

verse, but was also expressing a new outlook on the nature

and function of poetry, and adopting a particular "attitude

to life and existence, and proferring new visions of the

future"(9).

The change in the literary mode, which affected the new

generation of poets, brought about new views of man, life and

poetry which one can trace in the most mature works of the

avant-garde poets of this period, such as Sayyab and Bayati

in Iraq, cAbd al-Sabur and HijazI in Egypt, Fayturi in Sudan,

Hawi in Lebanon, Adunis in Syria, and the Palestinian poets

Darwish and Zayyad. Like many poetic concepts of this period,

the concept of death is utilised and developed in new ways

which reflect the preoccupations of the age. While tackling

the concept of death in their works, the avant-garde poets

mentioned above seem to be totally aware of the new role of

the poet in their time- the time in which all the romantic
 ( 191 )

fantasies, dreams, total subjectivity and feelings of despon­

dency became, so to speak, old-fashioned products.

During the hey-day of romanticism, the image of the poet was

of someone who was

placed above his community and regarded as

being a thing of the spirit, a magician, a
mighty philosopher, a 'seer’ and a prophet
all in o n e .(10)

Contrary to this image, the committed poet is now

identified with his own people,.... he is

the hero who in his personal salvation seeks
the salvation of his people.... The poet
thinks of himself as Noah or Christ the
Redeemer, Sindbad the explorer. He is no
longer the passive sufferer, but the active
saviour, the one who performs a heroic act
of self-sacrifice to save his pe op l e. (11)

Bearing in mind these two contrary images of the poet in the

romantic and contemporary views, one may say that the concept

of death was very much shaped in accordance with the above-

mentioned orientation and views of the protagonists of each

mo v em en t.

The romantic poet, it might be said, scorned the actual

reality of life which almost always appears below the demands

of his fantasies and the perfect world of his desires. Thus

death, from a romantic point of view, was the desirable access

to the imaginary world of perfection and total repose. In

 ( 192 )

death the human soul finds its salvation, when it is released

from the earthly ties and tribulations, and attains the final

spiritual refuge of ultimate felicity and fulfilment. Moreover,

the romantic poet saw death as the glorious occasion of man's

ascent from his humble earthly existence towards God h oo d.

This romantic view of death, one may note, is not only devoid

of a concrete and plausible philosophy, but also appears e x ­

tremely idealistic. Besides, the romantic poet seems to dedi ­

cate all his intellectual insights in order to seek his own

salvation on a spiritual level, after he has turned his back

on the world of "misery" and "imperfection" which he sees as

tantamount to his own undoing. In this respect, the death to

which the romantic poet aspires, is the death which betrays

an attitude of withdrawal from the actual reality of life- in­

variably seen as "imperfect". This withdrawal portrays an

element of failure or incapability. It makes of the romantic

poet the "escapist" rather than the "reformer" of imperfections

and injustices.

In his attempt to go beyond preoccupation with his own in­

dividuality and his own intellectual or psychological crises,

the committed poet endeavours primarily to return to his

people or his community and to derive his inspiration from

their problems and crises rather than his own. He, therefore,

tends to see his personal experiences as part of what his own

people are experiencing. The death which concerns the poet at

this stage is not the death which saves him from his personal
 ( 193 )

suffering and despondency, nor the death which realizes his

own salvation on a spiritual level. It is to be seen instead

as the death or the elimination of the causes of suffering of

the whole of his society or nation. More than that, it is the

death through which a new life blossoms and a new civilization

is rebuilt. The increasing awareness of a collective respon­

sibility seems to urge the poet to reshape his thoughts and

insights in accordance with the crises which the whole nation

is going through and the hopes it aspires to realize. No

wonder, therefore, that among the main themes which dominate

the literary scene during the fifties and the sixties was the

theme of the death and resurrection of Arab civilization. One

may say that this theme permeates the works of the contempor­

ary poets, and signals what can be described as a drastic and

important change in the concept of death in modern Arabic

poetry. The poet is now concerned with the salvation of his

people and nation; and when he searches for the appropriate

motif which he can employ to serve this purpose, he seems to

be intuitively guided to utilize the ancient myths which

symbolized the constant triumph of life over death. These

ancient myths of death and resurrection represent, in the

first place, man's old dream of eternal life, and constitute

the subtle symbols he used to embody such a dream. One may add

that the presentation of the mythical symbols in their origin­

al contexts stemmed primarily from the collective subconscious

of successive generations (12). This is perhaps a relevant

 ( 194 )

point, especially if one bears in mind the collective dimen­

sion of the concept of death in the mind of the contemporary

poets. Equipped with ardent enthusiasm and faith in the future,

these poets believed that despite the signs of weakness and

the numerous shortcomings throughout the Arab world, the spirit

of the Arab nation will certainly resist the elements of decay,

and bring about a bright new revival (13). Here, as M.M. Badawi

puts it, the poet is himself a personification of "the hero who

seeks the salvation of his people"(14). While expressing his

anticipations and hopes of the new revival, he seems to put a

total trust in his dreams. This trust is expressed through the

motifs he uses, namely the haunting symbols of the myths of

death and resurrection, since all these myths confirm the in­

evitability of resurrection after death. One must point out,

however, that the main issue which preoccupied the minds of

most avant-garde poets in the fifties and sixties was the

issue of the death of the nation or its decline and the real ­

istic response it requires, and not the death of the individu­

al or the death which wears a philosophical or an existential

make-up. Such an issue, it seemed, would not be successfully

presented unless it was expressed and brought home with con­

crete motifs derived from the deeprooted lores and experiences

of human history. The efforts of the avant-garde poets in the

fifties and sixties succeeded in discovering and utilizing the

ancient myths of death and resurrection which effectively fit­

ted their purposes. In examining this subject one has,

 ( 195 )

perhaps, to resort at the outset to some aspects of the works

of Sayyab, Bayltl, Hawi and Adunis. These poets in particular

seem to have had a mature understanding of the theme of death

and resurrection and its utilization in ancient mythology. The

mythical symbols which they use in their most representative

poetry seem on the whole to form the basis of subsequent

developments.

One must add in this context, that the resort to the subject

of death and resurrection was not confined to the group of

poets mentioned above. It found expression also in the works

of the Palestinian resistance poets. These poets representing

defiance and struggle before a fatal foe, and within complicat­

ed political circumstances, seem to have been able to embody and

communicate a vivid and effective view of the "fruitful"

death. It is the death in which the subtle concepts of sacri­

fice and redemption are realized. And through redemption a

more vital and powerful life may blossom forth. The Palestin­

ian resistance poets, in this context, often show a preference

for utilizing the symbol of Christ the Saviour and the Re dee m­

er which they find most appropriate to their situation. The

Palestinian poet personifies the Redeemer on his cross, and in

this way he tries to convey the message of his struggle and

his heroic death. It is the death which hopefully anticipates

the freedom of the homeland and the salvation of the Palestin­

ian people*.

* A more detailed discussion of the concept of death among the

Palestinian poets constitutes the theme of chapter VII of
this thesis pp. 262-98 below.
 ( 196 )

In the course of the next section more light will be shed

on the utilization of the myths of death and resurrection

and the development it brought about in the Arabic poetry

written in the period between the fifties and the seventies

of this century.

*
 II. THE TAMMUZIYYUN POETS, AND THE MYTH

OF DEATH AND RESURRECTION

The term Tammuziyyun is frequently used by contemporary

Arab critics and writers to identify the Arab avant-garde

poets of the period between the fifties and the seventies,

such as Badr Shakir al-Sayyab (1926-1964), cAbd al-Wahhab al-

Bayatl (b.1926), Khalil Hawi (1925-1982) and Adunis (cAlI

Ahmad Sac id) (b.1930) (15). In their quest for new motifs

which might express the spirit of the age, these poets seem

to have been prepared to discover the significance of ancient

mythology and the richness of the literary potential it seem­

ed to provide. Their concern was primarily to utilize ancient

mythology in their poetic works and profit from its profound

symbols. Among the most suitable myths, which seem to have

strongly expressed the immediate circumstances of the Arab

social and political life and met its requirements, is the

myth of resurrection that is invariably personified by my t hi ­

cal gods raised from the dead to confirm the triumph of life

over death.

Sayyab is considered to be the pioneer of the theme of death

and resurrection in Arabic since he used it in his well-known

poem Unshudat al-Matar "The Song of Rain" in the mid­

 ( 198 )

fifties*(16). Influenced by the haunting symbols of rain and

fertility in Sayyab's poem, Arab poets repeatedly drew the

analogy between the aridity of Arab life after the 1948 disas­

ter in Palestine, and other subsequent political failuers, and

the aridity of the land in the fertility myths, granted life

through the blood of the Babylonian sun-god, Tammuz or the

Phoenician Adonis.

In their comments on the utilization of the myth of fertil­

ity in modern Arabic poetry, most Arab critics and writers

tend to emphasize the fact that this motif was acquired mainly

from Western poetry. T.S. Eliot is repeatedly said to be the

prime influence on the Arab poets during the fifties and six­

ties**, particularly in his poem The Wasteland (17). In

Jayyusi's words:

Arab poets found in Eliot's implicit use of

the fertility myth an expression of ultimate
love and an emphasis on the potential of self-
sacrifice. It was the idea of the cycle of
sacrificial death that leads to rebirth which
attracted them m o s t . (18)

* Unshudat al-Ma^ar, the poem, was first published in al-Adab

magazine, No.6, June, 1954, p. 18-19

** Although T.S. Eliot was already well-known in the West as a

poet and critic in the twenties of this century, it was not u n ­
til the fifties that his poetry came to be widely read in the
Arab world. See on this,
Dawud, Anas, al-Ustura fi al-Shicr a l - cArabi al-Hadith, Cairo
1975, p . 175-178
 ( 199 )

Other scholars, however, try not to overrate the influence of

T.S. Eliot. There were, they point out, other circumstances

either political or social which primarily stem from Arab

life, and which urgently drove the poets to adopt the motif of

the myth of death and resurrection (19). These were the u nd y ­

ing hope of a better and dignified life despite the signs of

cultural stagnation and political disunity. In a study about

Sayyab's poetry published in Studies in Modern Arabic Litera­

ture , M. cAbd al-Halim does not altogether deny the influence

of Eliot, but interestingly infers that Sayyab's work is not

a close imitation of Eliot's. He says:

The fact is, however, that Sayyab re-created

the image of the wasteland in his own terms,
or perhaps better, in terms of the needs of
his own society. Eliot saw the West as a
society in decline. Sayyab was working in a
society full of problems but full of h o p e . (20)

cAbd al-Halim, likewise, does not agree with the view which

implies that mythological imagery was imported from alien

sources. In fact most of the mythological motifs in Arabic

poetry are

based on early Babylonian and Syrian culture

which still subsists in the consciousness of
the Arabs of Iraq and Syria in the same way
that the myth of Osiris subsists in the minds
of Eg ypt ia n s.(21)

The myth of the two gods of fertility, Tammuz or

 ( 200 )

Adonis or B a cal* and his beloved or wife c Ishtar, seemed to

possess a special attraction for the Tammuziyyun poets. This

is because these two mythological figures signify the per­

petuity of life and its constant triumph over death. Tammuz

is the god who is pictured as descending to the underworld to

join the dead for a period of six months every year. During

his disappearance, c Ishtar, the female beloved, keeps search­

ing for him and awaits his resurrection. When Tammuz is r e ­

stored to her by the turn of the season, and the reunion b e ­

tween the two lovers is realized, Spring returns to grant the

earth new life and fresh vegetation. The two figures of Tammuz

and c Ishtar were often viewed by the Tammuziyyun poets as

vital symbols of the powerful will of life which always

triumphs over death and maintains a cycle of constant rebirth.

The concept of resurrection or rebirth seems not only to pe r­

meate the thought and works of these poets, but to have become

also the prevailing poetic motif of the age. But one can, per­

haps, detect the motives and reasons which brought this about

in the poetry written during the fifties up to the early seven­

ties. It was the growing concern about the signs of continued

deterioration all over the Arab world on the political and

* The worship of Adonis was practised by the Semitic people of

Babylonia and Syria, and the Greeks borrowed it from them as
early as the seventh century before Christ. The true name of
the deity was Tammuz: the appellation of Adonis is merely the
Semitic A d o n , "lord", a title of honour by which the worship­
pers addressed him. But the Greeks through a misunderstanding
converted the title of honour into a proper name.
Bacal was another name of Tammuz in Semitic mythology.

Frazer, James George, The Golden B o u g h , IV, London, 1936,

p.6-7 and 26-7
 ( 201 )

social levels in place of the great hopes for renewal and

rapid development immediately after the second world war. In

trying to overcome this state of despondency or despair, the

Tammuziyyun poets sought to portray bright visions of a promis­

ing future, in which the dreams of a new revival or rebirth

might blossom.

While examining the main aspects of the theme of death and

resurrection among the Tammuziyyun poets, one cannot escape

noticing an element of conflict or contradiction which these

poets seem to have experienced. This seems to have been the

result of the wide gap or chasm between the actual reality of

the political and social state of their societies or nation,

and the possibility of recovery which seemed a mere hope or

dream.

It is appropriate, while examining the concepts of death

and resurrection in the works of the Tammuziyyun poets, to

begin with Sayyab's poetry. Death was a predominant issue both

in Sayyab's life and in his works. The ordeal to which Sayylb

was exposed, while sustaining his fatal illness and awaiting

imminent death, was in many respects an experience which left

its mark on his poetry. It was also an experience which deeply

affected his thinking and moulded his poetic insight*.

The most mature stage of Sayyab's development is particular­

ly distinguished by the use of mythological symbols. This

applies to the stage in which he wrote the poems that appear

* The features of Sayyib's ordeal and struggle with death will

be examined exclusively at length in the course of the next
chapter pp. 223-261 below.
 ( 202 )

in the collection entitled Unshudat al Matar "The Song of

Rain" which was first published in 1960*. At this time his

awareness of the problems of his country, and the abysmal

political and social circumstances in which it was immersed,

made him choose mythological symbols as the most appropriate

tools for expressing such issues. Sayyab himself said in a

newspaper interview**:

My first motive in using myths and making

symbols out of them was political. When
I wanted to resist the royal S a cIdI regime
with poetry, I used myths to veil my inten­
tions.... I also used them for the same
purpose in the regime of Q a s i m When I
wanted to depict the failure of the origin­
al aims of the July (Tammuz) revolution, I
replaced the Babylonian name of Tammuz by
the Greek name of Adonis who is his counter­
part . (22)

Sayyab, one may say, conceived of the deteriorated state of

his country as a state of death, and he started to search for

suitable motifs that might symbolize new horizons of hope.

The myth of death and resurrection which Sayyab often utiliz-

ed in Unshudat al-Ma tar , seemed to offer unbounded possibil­

ities of hope. Yet, Sayyab's faith in the possibility of r e ­

vival and resurrection on the national level seems to have

* Publisher: Dar Majallat Shicr, Beirut.

** Sawt al- Jam ah ir, Baghdad, October 26, 1963

 ( 203 )

varied from one poem to another. For although the mythologic-

al figures of fertility like Ishtar and Tammuz are, so to

speak, major personae in his poetry, they are sometimes pictur­

ed as not having the ability to change the state of steril­

ity. This is what can be seen in Madina bila Matar* "A City

Without Rain" and Madinat al-Sindibad** "Sindbad's City", to

take only two examples. In Madina bili M a t a r , a deep feeling

of despair overwhelms the poet, and is felt through the images

he utilizes. Tammuz emerges to grant Babylon new life, but the

rain is not forthcoming. There is nothing to be heard in the

empty expanses but the whistle of the wind and the moaning of

the diseased. Likewise, c Ishtar becomes a barren and empty-

handed goddess who cannot offer gifts to the hungry wanderers:

lft Ipj -j t tj— I d—iLJ J Ip * Jj ■*'" L —

lft 1 .M ( (J-J L j~/ I t*i| £

j b— iP o I tri j
^ L U- j lx.1.1 I d *k i

j b tpJ ' j b o -* p ^ J
lft L IjLft J *■
(23) Ia U £ ^ Lip.j U • » a li_* 1 ^ Ljp-

* D i w a n ,p p .486 - 491.

** Diwan,pp.463 - 473.
 ( 204 )

Tammuz awoke, he came back to attend to Babylon.

Babylon's drums were on the point to be beaten.
But the whistle of the wind in the towers
And the moaning of the diseased overwhelmed Babylon.
And in Ishtir's rooms
The clay bcfjrziers remain without fire,

Whereas we, like aliens,

Keep wandering from house to house.
Asking for her gifts.
We are the hungry.... but alas!
She is empty-handed.

In the poem Unshudat al-Matar, Sayyab was seemingly fluctuat-

— -■ j

ing between hope and despair. But the tone of hope is loudly

raised at the end of the poem. No mythological motifs are used

in this poem, yet the construction of the myth of death and

resurrection and the shadows of its legendary figures are im­

plicitly hinted at throughout the poem. The two main elements

on which this poem is built are the barren motherland, which

awaits the rain, (corresponding to the image of c Ishtar), and

the power of fertility embodied in the rain (the corresponding

picture of Tammuz). The opening verses of the poem introduce

a subtle portrayal of the motherland personified as a beloved

woman. Full of warmth and joy, she anticipates the imminent

rain which soon begins to fall. Yet the rain arouses a mys ter ­

ious feeling in the poet which is a mixture of awe and deep

sadness. This is because of the paradox of the pouring rain

in Iraq, and the famine which persists from year to year in

the country. The state of corruption and exploitation will

continue as long as the oppressors have the upper-hand.

 ( 205 )

Sayyab persists in picturing the paradoxical situation, where

the rain, the symbol of fertility and life, seems to leave n o ­

thing but signs of aridity in Iraq:

jI 1^ tJ5L*J I .w 2

j ^ O I m ClJ

1 d b (j
£ j — >i _ 5 — <JT j - Z J 1 O r*^ — (* j

(24) 6~ ^ 3 J 'J f^

Rain
Rain
And famine in Iraq.
The harvest time scatters corn
(But only) to feed ravens and locusts.

The rain falls

And every year, when the earth grows green,
We suffer hunger.
Not a year has passed without famine in Iraq.

This state of persisting sterility despite the rainfall is but

an embodiment of the actual fact. A fact which Sayyab tries to

overcome in order to be able to foresee the dream of revival,

a dream in which the rain becomes more vital and the earth

more promising. It is only the faith in the future that seems

to conquer the aspects of death and sterility in Iraq and

grant her new r e v i v a l . Sayyab ends his poem by conveying a

 ( 206 )

note of hope in the ultimate triumph of life:

->-k *

t u J I 3^_ks J 5
dj4>^ ^ I^JLafO ^
4 ( j ^ L>J I <1 i
. ^

!>■■<Mn.iiH ^ 1.1 ini^ ^1 i

J L a J ^ h J ^ ^ ill ^ ^ J i m lifi CLr < t . 4 « W ^ ^

4 L w ^ l J I C wU — ft ^ C ^ 1 | k J li* ^JtaS
^JfX4

(25)

R a i n .. R a i n ..
In every drop of rain
A red or yellow flower bud
Every tear drop of the hungry and naked

Is a smile awaiting new lips

Or a roseate nipple in the mouth of a newborn
In the youthful world of tomorrow, giver of life.
Rain. Rain.
Iraq will grow green with the rainfal1!(26)

k
 ( 207 )

Like Sayyab, Hawl extensively utilizes the same theme. When

examining H a w l 's poetry, one can see that the issue of the

waning civilization of the Arabs and the hope of its revival

was one of his main or primary preoccupations. It is, one may

add, the pivot around which most of his poetry revolves. As

Rita cAwad points out, he almost always

depicts the resurrection of (the Arab) civil­

ization which he experienced only as a poetic
vision, and not as an actual fact.But this
vision seems to be frustrated when he is faced
by the many aspects of decadence and its
vicious circles.(27)

H a w l 1s two collections, Nahr al-Ramld "The River ofA s h " (1957)

and Bayadir al-Juc "The Threshing Floors of Hunger" (1965),

are but close depictions of scenes of desolation which the

poet sees as permeating every aspect of life in the Arab world;

whereas the collection entitled al-Nay wa al-Rih "The Flute and

the Wind" which appeared in 1961 represents a wave of hope

which the poet seems to have entertained at that time. One can

perhaps agree with Rita cAwad and S.Kh. Jayyusi, that the col­

lection of al-Nay wa al-Rih abounds with symbols which almost

embody the tremor of resurrection, a vision which seemed to

haunt Hawi at the time (28). The last poem in the collection

al-Nay wa a l -R ih , entitled al-Sindibad fi Rihlatihi^1-Thamina

"Sindbad in His Eighth Journey", conveys a sense of ecstatic

revelation by a poet who foresees an imminent revival blossom­

ing forth:
 ( 208 )

<m
4J | | ^ jI ^

^ t.L,A I 1 ^>UriO J 1

^ " iw “ | ^V-J 1^ ^ jn I |<)^ „kt i

^L t ^ i— lw 1^ 111
j i ii L^
J 1 f->■J (j-*--- L« (J*-*U;

(29) irtJ..j 1 f tpJ JL.1^ ^ ^ ^J«^1 d

Today... the vision sings in my blood

With a tremor of lightning
And the brightness of the morning,
With the instinct of a bird which senses
The intention of the woods and the winds.
It (the vision) senses what is in the womb of the season.
It foresees it before it is born in the course of the seasons.

In the collection Nahr al-Ramad, the tone of despair had

prevailed. Signs of stagnation and of ever-present death were

deeply felt and closely depicted in H a w i 's poem cAsr al-Jalid

"The Age of Ice"*. It is the phase in which neither the earth

nor the people could resist the chill of death which, as the

poet asserts, penetrates into the "earth's veins" and the

"People's limbs":

i I (3_s^—^ £-*-2 L Lojula

*1*^*'I i if9

13 j - * * o L
U > J b j L - ^ 1 '**- — - ■

I J _ J U I _9

i«i IjlJ

1liiii^ |j« Lj.*)l I

(30) 1 d i*

* Nahr al-R ama d,p p .87 - 98.

 ( 209 )

When the veins of the earth had died

In the age of i c e ,
Every vein within us died.
Our limbs dried out like jerked meat.
In vain we were warding off the wind
And the sad night,
Trying to avoid breathless shiver in our (chests),
The shiver of definite death.

While suffering this state of "definite death" of the nation

and the whole generation, Hawi tries to find an escape from

the siege of despair. He resorts to the god of fertility B a cal

or Tammuz, as a symbol of perpetual life that might rescue the

earth from sterility. The hope of being saved from death and

barrenness urges the poet to perform this ritual prayer before

the god of fertility:

L c IJl L
'j-3 bv_J I 1.) 1

Id 1 {Jpjk .Jj_» 1^..!1 I_r

•UjM L
.X-J— »a>J I L Jj-oJ L 1

(3 1 ) J
— > j 1
— A t—
ftJ jJLe

0 god of fertility, 0 B a cal who

Tears open the barren land.
0 sun of the harvest.
0 god who shakes open the grave.
0 glorious resurrection.
0 Tammuz, 0 sun of the harvest,
Save us, rescue the veins of the earth
From the sterility that overtook us and her.

*
 ( 210 )

Bayati,in keeping with the new trend, extensively employed the

myth of Tammuz and Ishtar, the two figures whose reunion

grants the earth a new revival every year. In fact Bayati e n ­

titles one of his poems Qasa^id Hubb H i clshtlr "Love Poems

C — “ C “ 2 “
to Ishtar", and that in his collection al-Kitaba Ala 1-Tin

"Writing on Mud" (1970). It is a poem which "symbolizes the

death of revolution, of the earth and of civilization; but at

the same time sustains the human faith in inevitable resurrec-

tion"(32). The tragedy of death, as Bayati understands it, is

embodied in the waning of the revolutionary fervour throughout

the Arab world, and in the state of surrender to the powers of

corruption and tyranny. This state of stagnation and surrender

permits the exploiters and the oppressores to misuse their

power, and, in the process, to turn the nation into a w as t e­

land. In trying to find an exit from the vicious circle of

_ £ _
despair, Bayati searches for " Ishtar-the revolution", in the

hope that she will end up the phase of sterility and revive

the wasteland again. "Thus Babylon might conquer the aspects

of old age and imminent death, and regain its youth"(33).

The dream of resurrection which Bayati's poem Qasi^id Hubb IIa

c —
Ishtar suggests seems to have been realized by the reunion
— C
between Tammuz and Ishtar, and by the power of love between

them which enables

the seed of life to be planted in the womb

of c Ishtar, the beloved, the mother and the
earth. Thus she bears and gives birth to
new 1 i f e .(34)
 ( 211 )

c Ishtar in Baylti's poem becomes the main focus. She is the

beloved female and the source of fertility. Being aware of

the eminent role of the fertile female in the myth of Tammuz

c — — —
and Ishtar, Bayati introduces some alteration in the sequence

of events in the myth. According to the ancient account,

Tammuz is the lover who used to disappear every year in Autumn

and descend to the underworld. During his disappearance

c —
Ishtar searches for him, until she finds him and their reunion

is realized. But in Bayati's poem Qasl^id Hubb Ila C Ishtar,

this sequence seems to be inverted. The disappearing figure is

clshtlr and not Tammuz, and it is the latter who is depicted in

the image of the desperate searcher who is torn by yearning

and nostalgia for the hidden beloved. Thus Bayati has Tammuz

recite this hymn before the vision of Ishtar:

i * u JJU
ft 111ci Ir,hi*o \yt i Lr
^ ^ ^i inw f i •j t ^ ^

■"* -K1 1t 1>J I b*

it H^ \ O ^ i ,1 I ^ ' 1— 1 ^ (J-ILSlJ I j) fjjjf

(35) T^-sls., iL^JIS

Like a water of a river

Flowing underneath the bridges of the spiteful world,
I seek the dark banks.
Torn (by nostalgia),
I called upon you by the name of the Word.
I search for your sweet and cute face
 ( 212 )

In the age of killing, of terror,

Of black magic and the death of the gods.

So, when shall c Ishtar alight like a star and come?

As soon as c Ishtar appears, Tammuz seems to glow with new ex ­

citement and emerge full of faith in her, a woman who always

conquers death and is constantly resurrected:

d JlO ^ J !**«_,< f A ^* k

6 UJ 1 xj*3 1^ i-5 3 ^ ^ *—
' ^~^3

« j UJ<
(i *k 1 t c< J Ip 1 O * 4 Is

O \j L-tO-xJ I P I » •e- C^J^

(36) JJ— ' <3^ (j-3 o * dO ^ *3

You are a child, and a promising woman

Who was born from the foam of the sea,
From the blaze of the eternal suns.
Whenever she dies in any age, she is resurrected
Raised from the dead, and appears again.
You are the phoenix of civilizations
And the female (woman) of the robber of fire* in every age.

When Tammuz and cIshtar experience the glory of intimacy and

love, miracles begin. The desolation turns to prosperity, and

the wasteland begins to blossom:

* The robber of fire: Prometheus who stole the god's fire and
offered it to man, in order to let him know the secret of im­
mortal i t y .
 ( 213 )

Ifc 1* Jk.1 > J>J i ' d_U \ Ju*

J ' i
—!I I.!.i .**1
j LiJLJ I t_^>J L O vU 1 <_*>J t 1

V Ij *J 1 ij > j y \ o~* ^ ts
J—j 1 ^j J i ^ L,j Li
j 1J A_uf (_j Ifr t_ s j Ljh^j ^ ,1a^ . m “, ts T

(37) j I—•*.11 ur-ij) : '• O^ 03^

We built the cities of God on earth.

We prayed in the altar of the daylight.
0 love which makes the deserts thrive with prosperity
1 came from the wasteland knocking at your doors.
Ah... my flowers will not fall on the threshold of a house,
Before they grant my beloved fruit.

k k k k

Besides the figures of ancient Babylonian mythology mention­

ed above, other mythological symbols of death and resurrection

begin to appear in A d u n l s 's* poetry also. Adunis shows a

special interest in the phoenix and, more recently, in the

martyrdom of al-Husayn in particular. The phoenix, as the

Brand's Dictionary of Faith and Folklore tells us, is a legend­

ary bird which

when it perceives age coming on, it goes and

collects twigs, and precious spice of good
odour; as leaves it takes them, and spreads
itself upon them; by the sun's ray it takes

* Adunis is the pen-name of cAli Ahmad Sacid. His deliberate

choice of this pen-name already shows his basic involvement
with the spirit of the myth of Tammuz or Adonis.
See: JayyusI, T r e n d s , II, p . 734
 ( 214 )

the pure fire (of the heaven); voluntarily it

spreads its wings over them; these it burns of
its own will, and is reduced to powder. By the
fire of the spice, by the good ointment of the
heat and humour the powder takes sweetness, and
such is its nature, as the writing says, on the
third day it comes to life again.(38)

The use of the phoenix in Adunis's poetry perhaps reflects

personal circumstances. Adunis's father died in a fire acci­

dent, and he is said to have had a very close relationship

with his father (39). These personal circumstances might have

guided Adunis to discover the myth of the phoenix and to u t i ­

lize it so extensively in his poetry. The father's death, ac­

cording to the poet, was not an end, or as Rita c Awad puts it,

the fire which burnt him killed only the human

image to create an immortal god instead. Thus
the father's essence is seen to conform to the
law of revival, just like the sun which always
shines after every darkness.(40)

Adunis says in this connection:

w
^ I—
Js tj?*X3 I JLc- L ,« 11
w
C* 1.I [S I ■**
.

^j ^ ^l
i ju

(41) J JL*J 1 jJJ

The forearm which used to embrace my chest

And lift it towards the sky
Has turned to ashes.
 ( 215 )

It never perished by fire,

But returned to the origin,
To the coining age.

The motif of the phoenix in Adunis's poetry is not, however,

confined to the expression of personal experiences. It is also

employed to express wider national concepts. Commenting on

this Jayyusi says:

In his experience of contemporary Arab exist­

ence, Adunis saw in the chaos, the anxiety,
the despair, the disillusionment of a whole
generation,good cause for a sacrificial death
that brings redemption, so that life can r e ­
gain its force and focus.(42)

Adunis resorts to the myth of the phoenix in another poem en-

titled al-Bacth wa ?1-Ramad* "Resurrection and Ashes" in which

he tries to foresee collective dreams of revival, despite the

signs of fragmentation. The phoenix which the poet implores

now is but the embodiment of a collective hope- the hope that

might rescue the nation from the aspects of decadence and

stagnation, and prepare it for a fresh renascence. Thus life

may begin again in the desolate land:

I■■ i I JL-9 C *i-o (

* Al-Athar al-Kamila, I, p.249 to 272

 ( 216 )

l ^ I <«.i 111||^ *■I ^ ^Q 1IMlA ■1

JJ Li—fiJ I IjujU
3 I- -^-1\ Ijl-jJ
( 43) —* U j I— L ( c<
j *1 L

0 phoenix, you are the one who sees our people,

Feels how we perish.
0 phoenix, die to redeem us.
0 phoenix, let the fires start by you.
Let red anemones blossom.
Let life begin.
0 you, 0 ashes, 0 prayer.

The other figure, this time from Arab history, who attracts

Adunis is al-Husayn. Al-Husayn, one must assert, is not a m y t h ­

ological figure. He is the son of Fatima, the daughter of the

Prophet Muhammad and Ali b. Abi Talib thecousin ofthe

Prophet. As is well known, al-Husayn chose to defend his belief

that the Prophet's successors Al al-Bayt, or members of his

family were the legitimate caliphs of the Muslims. Equipped

with this faith, al-Husayn confronted the Umayyad army in the

battle of K a r b a l a 3 61 A.H (680 A.D), despite his knowledge

that his battle front was not equivalent in power to his

enemy's. The battle of Karbala-7 became a well-known incident

in Muslim history, because most of Al al-Bayt were tragically

killed in that battle, including al-Husayn himself (44). This

is the factual side of the event. But there were other legend­

ary accounts which were afterwards added to the main event.

These accounts appear especially in the legacy of the Shicites

who sympathetically recorded the biography of al-Husayn and

 ( 217 )

the events of the massacre of Karbala13.

In Shic ite sources al-Husayn is almost pictured as a man of

miracles, a symbol of everlasting life and a source of fertil­

ity. Al-Husayn, as we understand from his biographers, is said

to have had the ability to turn a faded palm tree to a green

one full of fresh dates (45), and to make a dry well abound

with fresh water (46). He is pictured also as having had other

miraculous abilities. It is said, for example, that while

preparing for the battle of K a r b a l a a l - H u s a y n ’s men suffered

desperate thirst, for they were denied access to any water

sources by the Umayyads. Realizing his men's ordeal, al-Husayn

called them one by one and put his thumb in every mouth to

satisfy the thirsty with fresh water (47). It is said also

that when al-Husayn was beheaded in K a r b a l a 3, his head had re ­

mained conscious. It was talking and reciting the Quran (surat

al-Kahf) (48). Moreover, al -Hu sa yn,according to Shicite belief,

is not dead; he is with the Prophet Muhammad enjoying the d e ­

lights of God's presence (49).

Bearing in mind all these accounts which were related about

al-Husayn, one can perceive that this figure can be poetically

employed as a powerful symbol of renewal and resurrection.

Adunis in particular seems to be prepared to adopt this symbol

in his poetry. His upbringing in an Alawite family perhaps af­

fected his way of thinking and moulded his poetic insight (50).

The poem of al-Ra3 s wa al-Nahr* "The Head and the River", which

* Al-Athar al- Kamila, II, p. 363 to 403

 ( 218 )

appears in Adunis's collection al-Masrah wa al-Maraya "The

Stage and the Mi rr or s "(1968), can be regarded as the most re­

presentative example in which the motif of al-Husayn is suc­

cessfully presented, although it is not made totally explicit

that the head is that of al-Husayn. Examining the main elements

of the poem, one may discover that Adunis was perhaps conscious

of the correspondence between the tragic event of K a r b a l a -5 and

the Arab disastrous defeat of 1967 against Israel. This defeat

is perhaps perceived as the parallel of al -Hu sa yn’s tragedy.

Thus the past tragedy and the present disaster, as Riti cAwad

points out, are being moulded into one picture (51). And b e ­

cause al-Husayn, despite his killing, is still capable of im­

parting the subtle significance of his sacrificial death, the

calamity of 1967 should not be seen as the grave of all hopes.

While examining Adunis's poem al-Ra3s wa al -N ahr , one should

not, however, disregard the element of water which almost domi­

nates the poem's scenes, and appears as of equal importance

as a motif, as al-Husayn's head. The poet chooses to let the

head float on the river and respond to its powerful current,

apparently to emphasize the strong affinity between the water

which is the source of fertility and al-Husayn's sacrifice

which is accomplished voluntarily to redeem noble or righteous

beliefs. The death of al-Husayn then, implies an implicit me a n ­

ing of everlasting life. Thus the poet lets a voice rise from

the water, and reiterate that al-Husayn, by dying, triumphed

over death and is granted immortality:

 ( 219 )

(52)

A voice rises from the water, and says:

He died to put an end to death.

Adunis, at the end of his poem al-Ra^s wa al-Nahr, makes the

rain fall; and this is to be taken as a good omen for a new

revival. The rain, another image of water, signifies a pe r ­

petual faith in the coming life which will hopefully blossom

out of decay.

it it if if if
 FOOTNOTES TO CHAPTER V

(1) An A nt ho lo gy , p.xvii

(2) Ib i d , p.xvii, xviii; T r en ds , II, p. 576-7; M ad i r i s , p.334-6

(3) Badawi, M.M, "Convention and Revolt in Modern Arabic

Poetry", Modern Arabic Literature and the W e s t , London,
1985, p .120-1, (Convention and Revolt).

(4) Ib i d , p .120

(5) An A nt ho lo gy , p.xviii

(6) Ibid

(7) T r e n d s , II, p . 574

(8) Q a d a y a , p. 56-7; See also the Introduction to Diwan Badr

Shtkir al-Sayyab, Beirut, Dar al-cAwda, 1971, p.H-W

(9)cAwad, Rita, Usturat al-Mawt wa al-Inbicath fi al-Shicr al-

cArafci al-H adi th , B e ir ut , 1978 , p .91, (U s t u r a )

(10) "Convention and Revolt", p . 116

(11) Ibid, p . 123-4

(12) U s t u r a , p . 66

(13) Ib i d , p . 181

(14) "Convention and Revolt", p . 123

(15) T r e n d s , II, p . 732

(16) Ibid, p . 724; Jayyusi, S.Kh, "al-Shicr a l - cArabI al-MucIsir

Tatawuruhu wa Mustaqbaluhu", Majallat c Alam al-Fikr, IV*
No .2 , Kuwait, 1973, p .52, (al-Shicr al-~^Ar a b i )

(17) D a w u d , Anas, al-Ustura fi al-Shicr a l - cArabi al-Hadith,

Cairo, 1975, p. 209,270, (Dawud); Critical Introduction,
p .255;Boullata, I.J, Badr Shakir al-Sayyab: The Man and
His P o e t r y , Ph.D the s is , London University, S O A S , 1969,
p. 256-7,(Bo u l l a t a ); "al-Shicr al - cA r a b i " j P-25
 ( 221 )

(18) Trends, II, p . 724

(19) Zeidan, J, "Myth and Symbol in the Poetry of Adunis and

Yusuf al-Khal", Journal of Arabic Literature, X, 1979
p. 70

(20) Studies .in Modern Arabic Lite ra tur e, ed.Ostle, R.C, "al-
Sayyab, A Study of His Poetryrr, W ar m i n s t e r , 1975 , p. 70

(21) I bi d , p .71

(22) Translated by:Boullata, Issa, "The Poetic Technique of

Badr Shakir al-Sayyab", Journal of Arabic Literature, II,
1971, p . 113

(23) Diwan, p.486

(24) I b i d , p.478-9

(25) I bi d , p.479-480

(26) As translated by M.M. Badawi, Critical Introduction, p. 254

(27) U s t u r a , p . 113

(28) I b i d . p . 113; Jayyusi, S.Kh, "Qasidat al-Nay wa al-Rih",

Diwan Khalil H a w l , Dar a l - cAwdaj Beirut, 1972, p. 391*

(29) Diwan, p. 261-2

(30) I b i d , p. 87-8

<3 1 > I b i d , p . 89-90

(32) U s t u r a , p . 160

(33) I bi d , p . 169

(34) Ibid , p . 160

(35) Al-Kitaba cAla al -T in , beirut, 1970, p. 30,1

(36) I bi d , p.42-3

(37) I b i d , p.47-8

(38) Brand's Dictionary of Faith and Fo lk lo re , II, London,

1905, a r t : P h o e n i x ; S e e a l s o : G r a y , Louis Herbert, The
Mythology of All R a c e s , ed: Moore, G.F, XII, Boston,1918
 ( 222 )

(39) Ustura, p . 134-5; T re nd s, II, p. 736

(40) U s t u r a , p . 135

(41) Al-Athar al- Kamila, Dar a l - cAwda, Beirut, I, 1971, p .117

(42) Trends, II, p . 735

(43) Al-Athar al- Kamila, p. 264-5

(44) Muqarram, A.M, Maqtal al-Husayn, Beirut, 1979, p.271-285;

Malikl, F, al-Thawra al-Husayniyya, Na-jaf, 1973,
p .152-195

(45) Tabari, Abu J a cfar, Dall^il al-Imama, Najaf, 1949, p. 76-7,

(DaliJ i l )

(46) Shafic i, Abu_al-Qasim cAli, ed: Mahmudi, M.B, Tar jamat <P
Rayhanat Rasul al-Llah al-Husayn, Beirut, 1978, p . 155

(47) D a la ^i l, p . 78

(48) Ibid, p . 78; Isfaraynl, Abu Ishaq, Nur al-cAyn fi Mashhad

al-Hu sa yn, Cairo, 1948, p.59,*(Nur al-cA y n )

(49) Nur al - cA y n , p. 81-2

(50) U s t u r a , p . 140; T r e n d s , II, p. 735

(51) U s t u r a , p . 142

(52) Al-Athar al-K ami la, II, p. 384

 CHAPTER VI

SAYYAB'S EXPERIENCE OF DEATH

I. THE ORDEAL AND THE STRUGGLE

Among the modern Arab poets, Sayyab underwent a special and

subtle experience with death. His fatal illness, which expos­

ed him to a considerable degree of physical and spiritual

anguish, made of him a victim of suffering and not a mere

observer. Death, as far as Sayyab's disposition was concerned

was dealt with as an introspective and highly personal issue

rather than an issue of an existential nature analysed and

discussed with a degree of aloofness.

There are, however, other circumstances in Sayyab's upbring

ing and intellectual formation which had their particular

effects in restricting his treatment of death on the whole to

a personal and subjective treatment. In Sayyab's childhood,

youth and manhood there were numerous unfortunate circumsta­

nces which deeply affected his life and provoked within him

feelings of anxiety and restlessness. The death of his mother

when he was six years old deprived him of the main source of

compassion and care at that early age. However, this lack of

 ( 224 )

love became greater and more pressing during his adolescence

and youth. All his relationships with women, we are told,

failed to give him the emotional stability he always sought.

He is described as "the emotionally starved young man who

seems to be constantly suffering from unrequited love"(l). It

has become a commonplace among Arab writers to tell us, in

trying to justify S a y y a b 's unfulfilled love of women, that he

was not good-looking (2). The image of the beloved woman, to

which Sayyab always longed, seems to have always evaded him.

The woman of his dreams never became a reality, and continued

to be a remote vision, an unfulfilled longing or perhaps a

mirage. This deprivation from feminine love,with which Sayyab

was destined to live,marked his late works with certain

particular characteristics. He almost turned, as his late

poetry shows, to a neurotic patient haunted by a vision of his

mother calling him from her grave, or else aroused by passion

for the women whom he loved.

As Sayyab's political orientation had its share in affecting

his mind and spirit, a brief survey of his political views is

perhaps imperative. Sayyab became a member of the communist

party in Iraq in 1946 (3). After about eight years as a member

of the party, he seems to have felt uneasy about being a

communist and was prepared to abandon the party and accept

less dogmatic views which were starting to seem more conveni­

ent for him if one does not say more expedient (4). His inter­
 ( 225 )

est was growing in Arabic!''nationalism, a wave which was gain-

f
ing momentum during the fifties of this century. His enthusi­

asm and sympathy with the nationalists seem to have provoked

the indignation of his old comrades, and that was the beginn­

ing of political rows and attacks which seem to have deeply

hurt the poet (5). In talking about Sayyab's political activ­

ities, one becomes aware of the fact that while committing

himself to one or the other of the political movements, he

was exposed to various aggressive tirades from the camps

which did not share his views or approve of them. The Iraqi

authorities at the time did not brook any signs of political

opposition. As far as Sayyab's political activity was concern

ed, it was no surprise that he became a target of severe

persecution which took the form of jailing or dismissal from

employment, which often drove him to seek refuge in other

countries.

One must bear in mind that the difficult circumstances of

Sayyab's life, deprivation in childhood, a total lack of

emotional fulfilment, and political persecutions, all these

circumstances seem to have affected him both morally and

physically, and this, according to his biographers, culminat­

ed in his fatal illness (6). Sayyab's illness was identified

by doctors as being a degenerative disease of the nervous

system manifesting itself by a gradual deterioration leading

to total paralysis (7). In his last years, while sustaining

physical illness and spiritual anguish, Sayyab became aware

 ( 226 )

of the painful fact that he was on the threshhold of death,

but he did not face the prospect of his death with the feeling

of resignation to his fate. To his horror, Sayyab began to

realize, while approaching his end, that his life was merely

a chain of deprivation and agony, and that there was nothing

but disease and death awaiting him. Fear of death, one may

remark, appears as the distinctive characteristic of S a y y a b 's

late works, especially his two collections Manzil al-Aqnan

"The House of Slaves" and Shanashil I b n a t 9\-Chalabi "The

Shanashil* of Chalabi's Daughter". The constant agony of the

disease which Sayyab could not escape, seems to have always

reminded him of the crawling shadow of death which was

according to medical reports, inevitable at a particular

period of time (8). His fear of death was apparently over­

whelming to such an extent that it gradually developed into

j
neurotic symptoms and hallukcinations (9), such as imagining ^
/
death as a "thief" or "devil" or a "predatory hawk"(10) w a i t ­

ing in ambush for his frail body. Although aware of imminent

death, Sayyab seems not to have resigned himself fully to his

fate. His response to death, however, differed in many ways

from that of Shabbi, who, as his biographers point out (11),

went through similar circumstances of a fatal illness. Yet,

Shabbi resigned himself to his fate, and was haunted by roman-

* Shanashil are bay windows on the upper floors of the houses

of wealthy landlords,decorated with coloured glass and other
forms of ornamentation.
 ( 227 )

tic visions of the glorious realm of death, which he imagin­

ed as a gateway to ultimate emancipation*. Shabbi, one may

say, managed to develop a kind of intimacy with his expected

fate, and therefore succeeded to some extent in extenuating

the horror. Love of death in Shabbi*s case was substituted

for fear, and he surrendered himself to anguish with the

resignation of someone who relished his very agony. But in

S ay ya b's case, the romantic speculations about the glory of

death were almost absent. On the contrary, Sayyab avoided

any metaphysical or ideal speculation about death, and tended

to deal with his ordeal in a matter of fact way. This is,

perhaps, an insight which seems to be confined to the common

sordid view of death as physical decay rather than as a

form of spiritual liberation.

Sayyab*s late poetry, one notices, shows two outstanding

tendencies. First, the hope of recovering and leading a

healthy life3and second, the desire at times of ending his

anguish and joining the dead in their "nether" or "underworld".

The first tendency is manifested in Sayyab's endeavour to find

refuge in his ordeal in God's power. But it is often clear

that his resort to God betrays doubts of His mercy. This is

because Sayyib sees God as an arrogant power that never

responds to the appeal of humble and frail beings, but, on the

contrary, finds pleasure in humiliating people and venting

* See for example his poem al-Sabah al-Jadid in A g h a n I ,Pp.159-

161,and pp . 112-113 above.
 ( 228 )

anger on them. The poet, in a sort of hysterical manner,

condemns this power for its "carelessness" and addresses God

with furious cries like the following, cited from his poem

Amam B a b ,l-llah "Before the Door of God":

- -•>•-• - ^ I 1—0 1

/
Pprostrate before your grand door
Crying in the darkness, appealing for aid.

Do you hear the call? 0 Blessed, do you hear?

And do you respond if you hear?
0 hunter of men
Crusher of women, you 0 creator of grief
0 destroyer of people with meteors and earthquakes
The cause of desolation in (people’s)homes.

This furious tone becomes a bit more mellow and humble in

Sifr Ayyub "The Book of Job", in which Sayylb tries to resort

to patience and retain faith in God's miraculous healing, by

looking at himself as a personification of Job and by reciting

prayers of obedience and humility:

 ( 229 )

O L J 1 J 1 j u > J 1 <iL)

• f 1 jLj; 1 U f„« j
* L-kp L IjjJ « O 1 ‘J-~J ’
(13). f >SJ 1 J u h c L ^ J I c 1^

Praise be to Thee, however long is the trial

And however great the pain
Praise be to Thee, misfortunes are gifts,
And calamities are an aspect of 1argesse.(14)

These glimpses of faith, however, cannot, one may remark,

conceal S a y y a b 's doubt about the existence of God and His

providence. I. Hawl says about Sayyab in this connection:

In the darkness which totally surrounds him,

he is obviously in doubt about God. Although
he implores God help for relief from suffer­
ing, his faith is not flowing vigorously. He
does not surrender to God's care nor feel its
sure and ultimate existence. Sayyab seems to
have conceived of God as nothingness and
h oi low nes s.(15)

Two factors, one may say, stand behind Sayyab's lack of faith

in God's providence. One of them is his unfortunate life that

culminated in fatal disease which affected both his body and

spirit. God's providence, however, is never perceived by

Sayyab as a source of relief or consolation while he was g o ­

ing through his agonizing experience. Miraculous healing is

what Sayyab was waiting for; and as this miracle was u n ­

attainable, his faith gradually vanished. The other factor

 ( 230 )

which stands behind this lack of faith was perhaps Sayyab's

uncertainity about the purpose of life (16). Life, according

to him, is but a clamourous road heading to ultimate "dark­

ness" and "nothingness". The expressions of "darkness" and

"nothingness", which are used by Sayylb to denote the event­

uality of life, convey a distressing feeling of disappoint­

ment and despair, which seems to have overwhelmed the poet

while meditating his fate. He says:

Id U
^ Lo |tJLA f
3 \ d_b « 1 lift JS1

? 3_, I di^J IfJ S *i

(17) V 2_, l—j» 2 L. ,■>*-L) |. l«>kJ I

I wonder if there may be no awakening after death.

If it is (death) but darkness, nothingness, without
signs of life or feeling.
Is all this joy, that misery
Is everything destined to this end?
I wonder if death is the purpose of life?

The other question which preoccupied Sayyab's mind at times,

revolves around the nature of death. Will death be a world

of more suffering and more dreadful visions? This is what

Sayylb seems to have predicted. In al-Wasiyya "The Last Words

of a Dying Man", horrifying images of death keep haunting the

poet's imagination.He describes how one day he will wake up

 ( 231 )

from sleep to find himself wrapped in a coffin with A z r a e l ,

the angel of death, guiding him with the other dead to a

"barren island covered with ice". The severe cold wind blows

through his b o n e s #and darkness will overwhelm everything and

dominate over all beings (18). In Ra h ala ?1-Nahar "The Day Has

Gone", a poem which abounds with farewell shadows, Sayyab

sees his approaching death as a journey from which he will

never return. Again, while trying to foresee his destination,

the poet is overwhelmingly preoccupied by dreadful fantasies

which are apparently motivated by fear of death. Interesting­

ly, Sayyab's depiction of the awesome world of death reflects

the ability of a very alert imagination. His images emerge

fully detailed, with a considerable degree of clarity and

vividness. Meditating on his destination, the poet portrays

a "black castle" in which he imagines that he will be fetter­

ed by the "gods of the sea". This castle is, presumably,

found in the "island of blood and shells". The horizon appears

as a "jungle of heavy clouds and thunder" in which the trees

never bear anything other than "the fruits of death"(19).

Expressions of imprisonment and enslavement, one may notice,

have always a close affinity with death in Sayyib's poetry.

He, for example, pictures himself in Asir al-Qarasina

, . "The

Captive of the Pirates" as a bound prisoner in the hands of

savage pirates (20); whereas in a late poem entitled Fi ?1-

Mustashfa "In the Hospital", he sees his imminent death as a

threatening thief knocking down the wall of his room in order

 ( 232 )

to seize his life (21). In this respect death is perceived

by Sayylb as a tightened siege,or a state of ultimate im­

prisonment in which he will be caught and suffocated. One

may notice how much this perception of death contradicts the

views of Shabbi, *Arida and other romanticists about the

ultimate emancipation which might be attained by death.

’’Salvation" is another expression which is always associated

with the death desired by those romanticists. They almost

see death as the opportunity which enables the spirit to get

rid of its earthly bonds and to proceed to the elevated realm

of ultimate fulfilment and realization. In Sayyib's case,

niether emancipation nor salvation seem to have appeared as

concrete concepts worthy of consideration. He is apparently

too much preoccupied with the physical aspects of death and

not its metaphysical aspects, with the blunt perceptions of

an earthly death and not the fascinations of a glorious

release and emancipation. Death, as far as S a y y i b ’s imagina­

tion is concerned, is not more than a grave being dug and a

corpse being laid where rats and worms multiply:

L—r jt t ^ Ia ^ .I.. 1 9
(22) 1— tj 1 ^ 1j

The rats run in his grave while he is asleep,

Whereas the worms are the blanket with which he is covered.
 ( 233 )

As this picture of bodily decay flashes into his mind, his

imagination continues to draw the overall features of a

sordid physical death. Here he is hearing "the clinking of

the stone spade crawling towards his limbs"

( 23) * 1 1 d —*-J_, ^ 1J t Q-“ ‘'j

He also foresees that his grave is prepared, and that there

is little time to hesitate or to be frightened. It is the

moment of obviation:

I j S a m 1 j J j Z J ii j ( CXJ 1 I ^ IjJ « 0 Z , j

< q t *■1 \ j * \^A —.rj Ia j . 1 I^ j V1 ?«_i U* 1

O J * ^^ .«n.^>1i*■

(24) * ^0~* er*-5^O'0 ***** p 1 j * kS hU ^ jA z

0 my illness, you are the mask ofdeath.

Am I going to be frightened if death appears?
0 (death) let the yellow grimace,
The two holes where the eyes decay,
The army of worms around which silence crouches
(Let all these) appear to my sight.
And let blood flow from my nostrils.

Inasmuch as the fear of death dominates most of Sayyab's

images, the desire to be healed and alive never subsides.

Despite his despair, he still has hopes and dreams. His hopes,

which are shown in his poem Sifr Ayyub , are compared to

 ( 234 )

"a laden cloud bearing the promises of seasons of vegetation,

fruit and ha rv es t" (25). Optimistic fantasies sometimes prevail

in the poet's verses, fantasies of a miraculous recovery from

paralysis, of being surprised by a sudden cure which might en ­

able him to walk again without a staff:

J Laj J b (J »li>P j..1p dr *!>• <— •j Lr

t) Lv4>P V ^ bn ^ ^ ■“ j 1 jh.l>w Aii 1a 1

j **— —1 'cr® I 2
(j j** - ' I 1..&
J L *

tU u C.>7w -* 11- 1>-.1 •

• I t a. -b *Lr 2

^*-5 I j d I P dJ U ^ ( iji*1iP

1S 1■■k t I U b t|

1— 5 1 1 J

j \

(26) * i Lo £ li■l» I l^lP 5k/ d—I

0 God, if only you would grant your slave some sleep.

That he may dream that he is able to walk without a stick
or a support,
That he passes the roads at dawn,
Until the grove of palm trees appears laden with fruit.
That he enters (the grove), hidden by the tops (lit.locks)
of the trees, and picks the fruit.
And hanging his walking stick on a pomegranate tree,
He continues eating and collecting flowers.
Until when he proceeds and starts walking along the road,
He feels and remembers that he walked without a stick,
And without being aware of it.
 ( 235 )

This is a dream of a crippled person in a moment of pure

fantasy. It is a moment in which his soul expresses its long­

ing to divorce the handicapped body and emerge to embrace joy

and health. It is the imaginative realization of the miracle.

The images of the palm grove and the

pomegranate tree in this dream are very
vigorous symbols. They are the symbols of
the desired powerful life which grants
health and v it al i t y .(27)

Mythical figures who represent unbounded power are also utiliz­

ed by Sayyab to express dreams of health and fitness. Heraclius,

who wrestled with death and obtained victory over it^is one of

these figures, while another is Tammuz the god of fertility

who grants the earth every season fresh life (28). But Sayyab

wonders whether he was truly prepared to fight for his life

like these two powerful figures, and if so, with what weapons:

v jlp lin.iw (j ts T ? .i. 1

le> 1— i JU-S j l_£j 1 JLjl
V JiP -■*'*lj tjf ^ ^ Cj ■<tI Vj
(_5.V C( l .irt 1 i1■m
* * * ♦

* * * * * J .A I h

(29)* CAuJ ^ Cj jf+ 1 t A.~>-^ <***—*

With what weapon (shall I encounter death)?

With what arm?
Which flowers will stretch their mouths to eat death?
Which supporter will help?
I draw a sword out of compositions.

With poetry. . .
I thrust at the face of death a thousand times.

Poetry might make its creator immortal by preserving his fame,

but it never protects him from death. That was Sayylb's conclu­

sion which drives him again to the pit of despair. He seems to

have realized that what possesses him during ecstatic moments

of revelation is merely glimpses of hope, and hope is the

other face of despair. No sooner does it emerge, than it

vanishes again. Sayylb, one may say, was totally aware of his

destiny which was hastily approaching. After all, there was

seemingly nothing to be waited for, except more suffering and

more pain, which are constantly sustained on the"bed of sick­

ness” . It is the bed which turned to be a "prison" for the

frail body, a "coffin" and "an exile to nothingness"(30). In

this respect, prolonging the days of anguish is a futility.

"Let death come, however dreadful it will be", cries Sayyab

fur iously,and an outpouring of rage follows:

 ( 237 )

J LiJ 1 Li .11* ^jlsJ J

\S J ^(3 I it...»*i..t 1 t^ j~ + (/CLlJ

L...1it 1 1 O ' j ^ ^Kjf* > ■»<*Ci li.l J

If the road to the grave

Extended before me,
I would walk to it
And I would find my way to hell,
And open the black doors violently
And I would shout in the face of its attendant:
Why do you keep your doors closed?
Call the devils of hell
Let them prey on the lacerated body.
Let your hawks snap the eyes and tear the heart.

Feed the fire on my body.

This horrifying eventuality seems to be much more acceptable

to Sayyab than being a remnant of "a broken ship floating on

the w a t e r " (32). Thus his last appeal to God was this prayer,

cited from his poem Fi Ghabat ?1-Zalam "In the Jungle of

Darkness":

rH o i ^ *

aj , . ;i« 11 J— -J p1
(33)* u— J I L 5__ _j J 1 2— *=

Let death come, I want to sleep

Among the scattered graves of my people,
Beyond the darkness of the graveyard.
The bullet of mercy, 0 God!
 ( 238 )

There are obvious associations in Sayyab's poetry between

death and meanings of terror, desolation, decline and nothing­

ness. These associations might be justified if one considers

the constant physical pains which the poet could not escape,

and which were often accompanied by hallucinations and a near­

neurotic behaviour (34). This morbid state always draws the

patient to experience horrifying dreams and illusions. Being

a victim of such an illness, Sayyab was perhaps deprived of

mental calmness and spiritual tranquility, and therefore

confined his meditation to the physical borders that could

not go beyond bodily pains and distressing nightmares (35).

Among the dominant aspirations, which haunted Sayyab in

his last years, was the persisting longing to realize a sort

of reunion with his dead mother and his beloved women through

death. Such a reunion according to Sayylb, was the ultimate

stage in love. No wonder, therefore, that old memories and

visions of loved women were almost always present in

Sayyab's imagination to kindle constant longing and passion.

It is a commonplace among the readers of the poetry Sayyab

wrote before his death to remark, that while the poet was

haunted by the shadow of imminent death, he was at the same

time experiencing strong passion and heightened sexuality.

Yet according to medical reports he was almost impotent

towards the last stage of his illness (36). Onestudent of his

poetry says that ,

 ( 239 )

desire in Sayyab in his last days was

another great assertion of life, ove r­
coming in its intensity the debility of
his exhausted body and embodying a need
for fusion that might reinforce in him
the lingering reality of life.(37)

Wafiqa, a girl whom Sayyab loved when he was a youth and who

died a few years later, becomes a distinguished figure in his

late poetry. In his last years he began to write elegies

addressed to her which are a vivid depiction of sincere yearn­

ing for a missed beloved. The poems addressed to Wafiqa seem

like desperate calls to an adored woman, who embodied in

Sayyab's mind the symbol of a love that was able to overcome

death and oblivion. The road of death which extended before

Sayyab was seen as the road on which Wafiqa was standing w ai t ­

ing for his arrival. The threshold of death, therefore, was

but the step which would enable him to approach Wafiqa's "blue

window", the image of brightness and ethereal aspirations. And

as Sayyab stands within a stone's throw of the beloved, where

he can see the shadows of her window gleaming through his

pouring tears, intense passion begins to stir within him and

evoke longings within his soul. Her presence is ultimately

overwhelming. Thus Sayyab says with awe:

1its L*_iJ y 1 1 1

U ---

(38) J-J 1 j I j 15
 ( 240 )

Look out (Wafiqa), your blue window

Is a sky (sustaining) hunger.
I observe it through tears
As if my boat had been shaken.

Feeling his aloneness and alienation on the bed of sickness,

Sayyab conceives of himself as a vagrant bird coming from his

last journey towards Wafiqa's window in search of the final

refuge and retirement:

I am like a vagrant sea bird

Who crosses the sea at sunset,
And hovers around your window
Looking for refuge.

But what might the longing for Wafiqa mean to Sayyab, and

what solace does he find in a dead beloved? He says:

li- a J 1 JU l

C jj j i 1 1 I ( j ■1 i I p c * l '
)—<*> 1 o J U>
—>■ ^
I <*A
i l .<r<U
L
(j ■■■■I.ft liJ 1 (J.!1*!1 H»|«|It 1

J— b A-U J— 1— 5- ij J J

(40) d"I I— jj
 ( 241 )

Your lips are the sweetest lips for me.

And your home is the most lovable home.
Your past is more beautiful than my present.
It is the impossible which (causes) astonishment.
I still retain memories of a lush shade from it.
It is a future for my present.

Reunion with Wafiqa in the world beyond seems to be the main

desire of Sayyab. He longs for a spiritual and sensual reunion,

an attachment that seems to represent to him the consummation

of ultimate desire. The word "home1' is a convenient metaphor­

ical expression which evokes pictures of settlement and secur­

ity, whereas the references to the past reflect the poet's

desire to retreat to a preceding epoch (childhood and youth)

when he experienced glimpses of care and love. There is, it

would seem, no relief or rest for him except in the past to

which the poet looks forward with hope as a coming future.

Death, in Sayyab's mind, began to take on the significance of

a retreat to an anterior state, or a regression to the past

in which were symbols of love, security, fulfilment and pure

simplicity, all of which Sayyab desperately lacked, especially

in his late years. This longing to go back might be interpret­

ed as a desire on the part of the poet to return to the stage

of the womb: the symbol of motherly love, warmth and security.

It is, likewise, a desire to retire to the earth of his village

Jaykur and its small river Buwaib, where he experienced peace

and simplicity of life in his early youth. Nostalgia for the

past simple life becomes very pressing, and many a time seems
 ( 242 )

reflected in a strong desire to become part of Jaykur's earth

and Buwaib's water. No wonder that Sayyab in a poem entitled

Nida*Jl-Mawt "Death's Call", seems to be haunted by voices of

his dead ancestors calling him from their graves:

* ur™; O y *' ' j j>•? ^^ I-*-0,^

(41) J1-------

They raise their (heads) from thousands of graves

Shouting to me: come on.

But among these voices there is a distinct v o i c e . It is the

voice of his dead mother saying:

ur9 cy5 I j- * ? uf'- 1<jf^—:

£ 1 \ ^ t «' 11 ^ <J C -^ !■< i 1—JaU> ^-9 JLs

(42) * 0 s1- 1 ...........

My son, embrace me, the coldness of death is in my veins.

Warm my bones with the flesh of your arms and chest,
Cover my wounds.
Do not step aside out of my way.

These words of his dead mother evoke in him an immediate

respo ns e:

t *5 Lj-5
( 43) * dT jo oV ^
 ( 243 )

0 her grave, open your arms, )

1 am coming without clamour, without Ah. /
I
V

The response to the mother's voice becomes more persisting in

Sayyab's poem Fi *1-Layl "At Night". Being overwhelmed by the

feelings of aloneness and gloom in a desolate room in the

hospital, he seems to be haunted again by the same voice call­

ing him from the graveyard, and he was prepared to heed its

call and proceed in the darkness of the night:

I !eLb
>L,JL1 I ^ “.£.31 * -
^ i3 t * j o j J o-*

TI j dh 1
^ d —^ f —J

i_£i\■■:& |u j J 1.«*> » . ♦

^ JLjvJ ^ L.*^ L-fUJU*1

Ij_t1 L,dJ

^ "L.*W
(44)- 1 >--1 ,
 ( 244 )

Under delusion, I put my clothes on

And walked at night, my mother will meet me.
At that bereaved graveyard.
She will say: How do you brave it
And walk in the darkness without a friend?
Are you hungry? Do you like to eat from my provisions?

Take off your clothes and clothe yourself with my shrouds.

They have not rotted despite the passage of time.
Come and sleep beside me:
I prepared a bed in my grave
For you, who is dearer than all my longings.

Under delusion, I'll follow my way

And proceed, my mother will meet me.

The mother grave in Sayyab's consciousness is not a limited

place of retirement but the boundless land of the whole of

Jaykur. The mother and the land of Jaykur coalesce into one

image which evokes in Sayyab's mind a sincere reflection of

love, warmth and attachment. Sometimes the distictive differ­

ences between the mother as a human being and Jaykur as the

poet's homeland absolutely vanish. Both become a single realm

of warmth and affection to which Sayyab devotes his purest

revelation:

L-» \j£> j p 1— ■i-5 ^

p
i. 1I p ***■ — -I If*-'B
U 1,C-.C- j I 1^.»■)1hO1 1{J** ^ J-iJ O"®
(45 )• ^ j 1

I love J a y k u r ’s shades.
As if they flow out of the grave,
The grave of my mother whose weary bones and eyes
 ( 245 )

Have become part of the earth of Jaykur.

She cares for me, and I care for her.

The river Buwaib, a small river in the poet's village, is

effectively used to evoke various suggestions. A subtle

affinity is seen by the poet as subsisting between death and

water.Thus water is identified with death ,and imparts to death

a special meaningfulness. In trying to interpret Sayylb's

profound yearning to die in the river Buwaib, the poet and

writer Adunis (*AlI Ahmad Sa* id) gives the following comment

on Sayyab's poem al-Nahr w a ?1-Mawt "The River and Death",

usually considered as one of the best in Sayyab's works:

In the poem al-Nahr w a ’l-Mawt, Sayyab portrays

his longing for death and for having as close
an affinity with the earth as the river. The
human being thus becomes like the river or
like water, alive and born or reborn out of
itself. The human being becomes a part of the
living processes of the world. Dying life
turns into a living death. There is nothing
left except water, a perpetual b i r t h . (46)

Sayyab, in this context, longs to die in the river Buwaib in

the hope of attaining a meaningful eventuality. In al-Nahr wa

^l-Mawt, remarks S.Kh. Jayyusi,

the poet aimed at changing the chemistry of

death, of drowning in one's own blood ( I
wish to drown in my blood, to the very depths)
into life, where stars and moon alike illu­
minate waters and trees green with fertility
and 1 i f e .(47 )
 ( 246 )

The poets depiction of his incorporation with Buwaib appears

as a joyous dream; a dream which culminates in "discovering

the hidden gate of death" which guides to a world of total

fascination. Meditating on this dream, Sayyab pictures h i m ­

self as a child who becomes full of excitment and joy while

exploring the new world of death. He says:

L cuj 1! j
j 1 JxBJ ^ (iL-J c * J 1

*■^1 1 1 ^ ^ hLycC* ^ ^

j I * ..ift 1 I ^_] It Cij |4 1 l i

(48 ) * L; O 15 ^ 3

0 you Buwaib
1 wish to drown in you, to collect shells.
And build a house of them.
To proceed with the high tide to the sea.
for death is an amazing world that fascinates children.
Its hidden gate is within you, o Buwaib.

Death is now conceived of by the poet as a transcendental

transition to a privileged state. It is a state which the

poet pictures as an achievement of a "victory":

or-33 3 ^ yr5 0 “ ^ jrT '

j t \c c r 3 C^J>J * j J Jjjl
(49) . 0 1 •
 ( 247 )

The bells of my death resound within my veins.

And yearning gushes in my blood.

I wish to drown in my blood to the very depths,

To resurrect life. My death is a victory.

However, this optimistic tone seems to have been character­

istic of Sayyab's early poetry before he was struck by illness

Death was regarded in his early poems, and especially in the

collection Unshudat al-Ma tar , which represents the most mature

stage in his poetic career (50), as a symbol of great anticipa

tions. It was the death which has a strong affinity with redem

ption and sacrifice, and which abounds with optimism. I. Hawl

compares this seemingly mature stage of Sayyab's understand­

ing of the role of death with his late treatment of it in his

illness. He says:

While Sayyab is going through these two stages,

his awareness of time becomes very sp ec i al .
In the first stage this awareness seems to
be optimistic. It is the time that bears the
powerful revolt with which new life is born ;
and this is the purifying time which brings
forth fertility, justice and freedom; whe re­
as the awareness of time in the last stage
is characterized with opposite features. It
becomes a time of mourning and extinction.lt
is the womb which gives birth to nihility;
the time which separates lovers and winds up
intimacy, which guides a person swiftly and
senselessly to the pit of dea th .(51)

Inasmuch as the poems in Sayyab's collection Unshudat al-Matar

praise the sacrificial death that brings forth fruitful life.,

the late poems end with total lack of faith in any positive
 ( 248 )

purpose in life. All the vigorous hopes which Sayyib entertain­

ed for victory over decadent and corrupt social and political

conditions seem to shrink and vanish. His experience with ill­

ness seems, so to speak, to bring him very close to the bold

reality of death, and therefore keeps him away from optimistic

visions and ideal dreams of the fruitful death. No wonder,

therefore, that the general atmosphere of his last poems is

one of gloom and despair. Sayyib is now facing his fate, he is

a lone traveller on the way to death. Thus he begins to

identify personal needs and introspective desires which are

altogether confined to motherly compassion, love and spirit­

ual fulfilment. These desires, however, appear as realistic,

and do not go beyond the borders of Sayyab's actual knowledge

and comprehension. The journey to death in Sayyab's late

poetry leads towards what is known and familiar, to a world

with a particular identity. It is a departure towards the old

faces which he loved, towards the familiar land of Jaykur in

which he experienced simplicity and peace, and towards the

beloved river Buwaib with which he feels he likes his flesh

and bones to be totally integrated. These sincere wishes, h o w ­

ever, reflect the unconscious longing for a happiness which

might compensate the poet for the barrenness and suffering

which he had gone through; and which might in the end console

him during his last days. These simple and sincere longings

find expression in the following few verses which sound like

the last revelation of a dying poet:

 ( 249 )

aaj 1 j y * LJa-p

\S j ^ Jjj>J L ^ Lop 1 ^
• ^ L J 1^ IS L*-i 0 15 ! ,^-lS

U 1 j^-^r * *1

i i _j - J l.> ) 1 lfc^*5 O'* 1 1^>J IS

I® 1 * jfr (jfVA-J I 1 ^ » i ) V — (O 1 C j ^ j l— rf> , j ^ J 1

<jr* ^ 0“^* O'*
(52)* jjj_5—<t f t * * * J 3 ^~.fT ^ O"*

0 Jaykur, embrace my bones

And shake my shrouds out of the mud.
Wash my heart in the flowing river.
(The heart) which was (like) a window
(overlooking)(burning) fires.

I love Jaykur's shades.

As if they flow out of the grave of my mother
Whose weary bones and eyes are now part of the
earth of Jaykur.
She cares for me, and I care for her.

k k k k k k k
 II. IMAGERY OF DEATH IN SAY YAB ’S POETRY

Sayyib's imagery of death can perhaps be summed up under

two basic characteristics. First, the poet is realistic in

his approach, and tends to relate himself to sensual percep­

tions; he therefore conceives of death as part of what he

calls al-^Alam al-Asfal or the "underworld” . The poems compos

ed by him to his beloved Wafiqa and his mother reflect a

subtle and profound preoccupation with that "underworld", the

world of the actual grave. Wafiqa's grave is portrayed by

Sayyab as a "window" in one poem devoted to h e r , and as a

"garden" in another. Yet in both of these the images of the

window and the garden are part of the "underworld" he depicts

(5 3 ) <Ji 1 f-J 1 i.w 11 I ft

It is death and the underworld.

And:

^^ /j.j i^ i^ ^ ' -"-k (_g—I*

Your blue window is shut on (total) darkness.

And;
 ( 251 )

ii-JjJ

(55) rt iS.^Ua- (jJ5j<».I1 '** A-^s

In the darkness of the lower world

There is a field which belongs to Wafiqa.
In it, the dead have planted a garden.

This preoccupation with what is hidden in the underworld is

also shown in the persisting curiosity which urges the poet

to indulge himself in wading in the depths of the river Buwaib

Jaykur is also pictured as a large womb which tempts Sayyib

to go backwards to a former stage of existence and be part of

this earthly womb. Darkness, bodily corruption and other

expressions of earthly bondage are frequently used to reveal

feelings of desolation and despair, and to evoke shades of

gloom, coldness and awe.

Second, although Sayyab was haunted by images of the actual

grave and physical decay, he at times shows an unmistakable

inclination to imagine death as a fascinating world of tempt­

ing visions. Despite this aesthetic depiction, however, Sayyib

still conceives of death as a phenomenon which is primarily

related to the lower world. It is, seemingly, a pressing

interest in the lower world and an overwhelming desire to

explore the wonders of a concealed realm which is still tempt­

ing even though it exists beneath the earth (56).

y ——
* This is depicted in the poem al-Nahr wa 1-M a wt , see Diwan,
p .455
 ( 252 )

These two major aspects of Sayyab ’s imagery of death

alternate in their appearance in the same poem. Shubbak Wafiqa

"Wafiqa's Window" and H a d i ’iq Wafiqa "Wafiqa's Gardens" are

two representative poems in this respect in which images of

gloom and fascination are portrayed in rotation. Vivid and

joyous images appear at the beginning of Shubbak W a f i q a . The

title is chosen to suggest aesthetic and profound indications

of loftiness, boundless space and brightness, which are all

expressions of joy and ecstasy. The "grave-window" of the

dead beloved seems to be turned into a radiant source of trans­

cendental ecstasy. But it also has another attribute. It has

a soul that has the ability to emerge from the dead and

experience resurrection. The metaphor of a "tree" is also

used to denote the "grave-window" of the beloved. This

metaphor appears among the most suggestive images, because it

symbolizes the continuous life. It is a "tree" that "breathes

at dawn" and bears "apples", whereas Buwaib waters it and

preserves its vitality, and the sun grants it life:

a — £ L aX-ij eJ L, £
I I(_5“® Q*1^—-*''
6 j -JaJLJLo tiloJLft ^ -c-V 1
£ V.■.K“ 2

<\i ■ ■ 11* *> I

(57) • — -J t p UJ 1 f l___ijl
 ( 253 )

0 Wafiqa's window, (you are) a tree

Which breathes in the awakening dawn.
The eyes are waiting before you
Anticipating an apple flower.
Buwaib is a song
And the wind repeats the water's tunes on the
palm leaves.

The window of the dead beloved besides has the characteristic

of a living spirit, a spirit which aspires to fly towards

\ \/\
light and brightness. This is depicted with' verse by the poet

? <5 ^! 1 dU-ju, eJ L £
^ *» 11 "■*w*—»L. ^
(j...*,* )1 t\,„ i . :>■\ m, j J jz J

(58) j i-U ua-f-lsj:

Is it a window which smiles in the brightness?

Or is it a door opening in the high wall?
And a spirit aspiring for the light,
Flies off with wings of fragrance.

Another interesting picture appears in the second part of the

same poem in what amounts to an extended image. The first

element in the image here is the window which opens to reveal

W a f i q a ’s face. This picture evokes in Sayyab's mind the

picture of a shell opening to reveal Ishtar, the godess of

fertility:

I <3_\ Id I
j L—>we—) I O *i ft S1 US
 ( 254 )

1 ^
J IJ - J & t !----- S j 1 y J L i

(J -U ^ J 1 li I j

(59) jL^J' o-l— ^

When(the window) opens to reveal your face,

Like a shell which opens to reveal Ishtar
Who steps forth with foam clothing her body,
The banks grow green.
And at the closed port
The sea repeats its prayers.

Sayyab is seen by most of his critics as a master of origin­

al metaphor. In Jayyusl's words:

Sayyib is a master of the metaphor. His

treatment is usually sure and his images
strike with immediate effect.... The
pictures he paints leave a clear, vivid
and often unforgettable impression.(60)

Wafiqa's death flashes in Sayyab's mind as a vivid dream.

A bird , white like a lily,soars around her then takes off

with her at dawn. Luxurious portraits of a fascinating world

to which Wafiqa departs then follow. She opens her eyes after

a short sleep to see magnificent scenery of a magical world.

He says:

1 Lk 1I (li*5 U Ja (j
■*-o o 1j CjJL-bkj
t £ I I ^ L_J ^jJLJ t j
 jj ni^y i jL*.fr<fij,j..ip ^

J1 X lJ ^ yrl*

-
J _ J jlJ 1 ^ U — iJ I ^ L-~<Lj 1 0 IS ^

(61) • 1^ J-2J I(jJ I

I wonder if the lily-coloured bird came to you,

And you took off with him at dawn.
If the pure slumber of the morning numbed (1 i t .covered)
your feelings by its veil?
You then opened your eyes at sunset to see
A green plain,
Whereas the broken rays of light became your guide
To the hill and the house built of marble (on top of it).

In H ad a ?iq W a f i q a , one comes across similar visions of a

magical world where a river constantly flows, and where fruit,

vines and lush shade are always available. Likewise, there is

a bed of moonlight on which Wafiqa lies (62).

Ironically, dreadful images of death are also employed by

the poet in the same poems. Sayyab in the course of his poems

often inclines to shift or even move abruptly from a fascinat­

ing vision of death to another dreadful one. After portraying

Wafiqa in the image of *Ishtar, the godess of fertility, who

emerges from a shell to grant vegetation and love to the world,

he moves abruptly to the depiction of horrifying picture of

W a f i q a ’s corpse:
 ( 256 )

I imagine your eyes as two holes

Looking out with scorn on the world.
They are two gates on the bank of death
Signalling for the comer.

After providing this morbid picture of Wafiqa's decaying body,

he again goes back to visionary dreams in which death becomes

a bird white like a lily taking off with the beloved towards

a magnificent w o r l d . In H a d a ’iq Wafiqa, Sayyib again asserts

that the gardens of the beloved dead exist in the "lower

world" to which one may descend by stairs of "ice and darkness".

This description is followed by images which all evoke awe

and gloom such as 1 f U»J I "black doves", jy i J 5L~«

ur— "a dry (1 i t .extinguished) waterfall of light,

"tearful paleness", and

L (j* Ujj 1 tili.rfJL^wJ j, i

1
------------ e,j-vJ I _, 4_*i

0 Wafiqa, there is a shiver between your breasts

In which the cold of death cries.

In Madlnat *1-Sarab "The City of Mirage", the tendency to

escape the aesthetic outlook on Wafiqa's death is obvious.

There is, seemingly, no space forfantasies and delusions

since the beloved is but a corpse which surrenders todecay.

His embraces for her then are in vain, as she actually lies

behind the high barriers of death:

3 a _ ^ 1 v S ^ S J 1<iL;,b

2»!-*■
'-L. rt— ^ ^
j lap* ^ j S J 1^
.o*« 1 < IjLjJ 1
L
bjLw o
c*j 1 j,

^
"
 ( 257 )

L/ a T t '-..j* 1
d-3—A_9j} L Cw 1 y J 1 ij I <■—
> 1 L
fX —feJ 1 j, j j j J J

*t—
»■* l j <LLfJu« L >**«.i <^ j
(64) * t k “. ’
. \ CJ_5 CiJUSj} l^J Ip- j > 3j_pJL— w e

0 my bedmate, you are like the remote planets.

As if a wall of slumber stands between us.
My arms embrace you, but tighten around a cold corpse.

I cry out to you, Wafiqa

The closest person to m e , 0 Wafiqa,
But a prey to worms and darkness you are.

0 my bedmate, you are a remote city.

Its doors are closed, yet I stand before them waiting.

The picture of the actual grave also occurs quite frequently

in the poems in which the poet's mother is mentioned. He

conceives of her final place of rest as a place in which there

are no windows or doors or any openings through which commun­

ication may be possible:

J tps- Q-4 J j tjJU- pj id 1 • « 6 I—«1

J 1.1PT-J 1(_yJ *JLS ^ J {j) ^ ^ t_f N
L.»» tI < 5/ ij p — 1^ u ■5 Ik : I
(65) ? j l>w»J \ t3 & h_: Is ts^J F \ ^ 2L» \ io ^
 ( 258 )

0 mother, I wished you had never disappeared

behind a stone wall,
In which there is no door or windows to knock at.
How did you proceed on a road from which the travellers
never return
From its yellow darkness which is like the (darkness)
of the sunset over the sea.

In Nasim mina *1-Qabr "A Breeze from the Grave", the images of

decay prevail. While sensing the shadow of his own death

crouching over his frail body, Sayyab seems to be overwhelmed

by a breeze coming from the graveyard carrying the breath of

his dead mother.which seems to repeat in a whisper:

lJT*
J

£ \ -ft

There is earth in my arteries,

And worms where my blood used to circulate.
My veins are spider's webs.

\
 FOOTNOTES TO CHAPTER VI

(1) Badawi, Critical Introduction, p.253

(2)^Abbas, Ihsan, Badr Shakir *1-Sayyab Dirasa fi Hayatihi wa

Shi'rihi, Beirut ,1972 ,p .25-6 and 43,( Abbas ) ; Hawl, Ilya,
Badr S h a k i r *1-Sayya b, Beirut, (n.d), I, p . 17-8, (B a w l )

(3)*Abba_s, p. 243

(4) Ib i d , p . 106,7

(5 ) I bi d , p .341

(6) I b i d , p. 340,1 ; H a w i , I, p . 16

(7)Boullata, p . 177

(8)‘A b b a s , p. 361

(9) Ib i d , p . 362,3

(10) See Sayyab's D i w a n , p.676 and 692-3

(11) Kerru, *1-Shabbl H ay at u h u , p. 36,8 ; Naqqish, Raja* , Abu al-

Q a s i m *1-Shabbi Sha*ir al-Hubb w a P1 -Thaw ra, Beirut, 1975,
p.21

d2) Diwan , p . 135-6

(13) Ib i d , p. 248

(14) T r a n s :Boulla ta . p . 188

(15) H a w l , III, p. 7

(16) Madani, Sami, "al-Sayyab w a ’l-Mawt", al-A d l b , No.4, 1965,

p .45

(17) D i w a n , p.220-21

(18) Ib i d , p .220

(19) I b i d , p . 229-30
 ( 260 )

(20 I bi d , p. 670

(21 I bi d , p .676-7

(22 I bi d , p .285

(23 I bi d , p . 702

(24 I bi d , p . 703

(25 I b i d , p .274-5

(26 I b i d , p .685-6

(27 H a w i . III, p . 31-2

(28 Diwan , p. 271

(29 I b i d , p .272-3

(30 I b i d , p .691

(31 I b i d , p. 692-3

(32 I b i d , p . 706

(33 Ibid , L o c .cit

(34 ^Abbas , p .362-3

(35 Ibid

(36 H i w i , III, p . 58

(37 Footnote of Trends, II, p.648

(38 Diwan , p •121

(39 Ibid , p. 122

(40 Ibid , p . 123

(41 Ibid, p. 236

(42 Ibid , p . 236-7

(43 I bi d , p. 237

(44 I b i d , p .609-10

(45 I b i d , p .190
 ( 261 )

(46 Badr S h i k i r *1-Sayyib, Qasa^id, Beirut, 1967, p. 13-14

(47 Trends, II, p . 726

(48 Diwan, p.455

(49 Ibid, p.456

(50 ‘Abbas, p.408

(51 Vol.Ill, p . 132-3

(52 Diwan, p . 189-190

(53 Ibid, p .122

(54 Ibid, p.123

(55 Ibid, p . 125

(56 Jabra, I. Jabra,al-Nar w a ’l-Jawhar, Beirut, 1975, p. 61,

(al-Nar)

(57 Diwan, p . 117-8

(58 Ibid, p . 119

(59 I b i d , p .121“ 2

(60 Trends,II, p. 689

(61 Diwan, p . 123 4

(62 Ibid, p . 126

(63 Ibid, p . 122

(64 Ibid, p . 161-63

(65 Ibid, p.616

(66 Ibid, p. 672

*
 CHAPTER VII

THE CONCEPT OF DEATH

IN PALESTINIAN RESISTANCE POETRY

In his book entitled S h a y ’un *An al-Watan "Someting About

The Homeland", the Palestinian poet and writer Mahmud Darwish

(b.1941) s a y s :

It is with love that we choose to defy all

(forms of) defiance, it is with contempt
that we resist (aggression), and as we fight
we face death with (total) contentment
rather than abandon our attempt to embrace
this home lan d. (1)

These words of Darwish reflect his people's attitude towards

the Israeli authorities in their occupied homeland. The

Palestinian reaction, briefly, expresses itself in three

forms, honourable self-defence, resistance, and redemptive

self-sacrifice. The understanding of these three attitudes,

one may say, is a prerequisite for the understanding of the

recently emerged Palestinian literature*. This literature

*It would be understood at the outset from the title of this

chapter that the Palestinian literature referred to is the
literature written primarily in the forties and after the
partition of Palestine.
 ( 263 )

could be regarded as a byproduct of the patricular circum­

stances to which the Palestinian people have been subjected,

the mutilation of their culture and identity, compulsory

emigration,land and property confiscation, and other inhumane

forms of discrimination during more than thirty years of Isra

eli occupation (2).

One must add, however, that the voice of the Palestinian

resistance poetry is a loudly heard rejection of the politic­

al calamity of living in a land occupied by enemy forces,and

by no means represents an exotic voice unrelated to worldwide

liberation and resistance literary movements. The Palestinian

resistance poetry can simply be viewed as a part of similar

literature of liberation movements in various parts of the

world. The particular dilemma of the Palestinian national cul

ture is, at this point of history, a vivid illustration of

the problem of other resistance movements throughout the

world (3).

Poetry according to the Palestinian resistance poets, is

but a means of struggle, or, is simply another aspect of the

national defiance. This means that their poetry does not mere

ly reflect the poets' opinions or thoughts as individuals,

but is also dedicated to express a collective attitude of a

people who are all deeply affected by a particular problem(4)

The main characteristic of Palestinian poetry, one may say,

is that it tends towards objectivity and commitment rather

than the expression of subjective concerns of the individual

 ( 264 )

or personal psychological and intellectual crises. The e x ­

perience reflected in Palestinian poetry is one conveying the

suffering, struggle, despair, longing and hopes of an entire

people. In brief, Palestinian literature is a sort of collec­

tive ideology.

Since thd' Palestinian resistance poetry is permeated by a

/
spirit of defiance, one may deduce a link between the struggle

involved in commando methods of self-defence and the concept

of death as a satisfactory way to express "a profound yearn­

ing to fulfil a noble taskn (5). What is worthy of note is

that the concept of death in Palestinian poetry seems to be

an expression of a collective will which abounds with active

longing to face death with pride for the realization of human

liberty. This is seen as an honourable way to try and fulfil

national hopes and maintain an optimism concerning their

future and realization. The concept of death in Palestinian

poetry, as it will be treated throughout this chapter coiild""

be examined under five major aspects. First, Palestinian poet­

ic works show a great concern about revealing the tragic as­

pect of death in their occupied homeland. That is to say they

depict the various manifestations of destruction and death

which are constantly committed against the innocent, and the

unjust threats to the existence of the Palestinian people as

a whole. The main sentiments expressed are consequently feel­

ings of despair, misfortune, despondency and frustration.

Second, death is conceived of as a sacrificial and heroic-

 ( 265 )

act which can help to sustain a strong faith in the promised

future. It is in the light of this that one can understand the

emergence of the picture of death as a much desired and e n­

chanting end. Third, death is dealt with as a mystical experi­

ence, that is to say a desirable mystical journey towards the

heart of the homeland. Fourth, Palestinian poetic works intu-

tively tend to form an intimate link between suffering which

leads to death and salvation by resorting to Christian co n­

cepts and beliefs in the crucifixion and the subsequent resur­

rection. Fifth, and this is closely linked with the previous

aspect, death is considered as the occasion of a renascence

or rebirth.

To begin with the first aspect, one may say, that it is

perhaps true that the tone of mourning and despair in Palestin

ian poetry began after the first failure of the revolt of 1948

Studies written about Palestinian literature generally agree

that the poetic production of the period between 1948-1952 was

almost a direct reflection of the deep frustration felt as a

consequence of the Palestinian disaster (6). This poetic lit­

erature depicted a sense of shame accompanied by feelings of

despondency and shadows of collective death which seemed to

have permeated all aspects of life (7). Thefollowing stanza

of Mu^in Basaiso (1923-1983) could be considered as a repre­

sentative example of the prevailing tone of general grief

that permeated Palestinian poetry after 1948. This example

expresses also the deep bitterness that was felt all over the
land and among the people. Basaiso says:
 ( 266 )

1 I 3-.--* *n1< ^yi>W ^ ■tI

0-+Si L ^ £,_?*•^ i3j^-n ^ t>^-J 1^ c3"~„*1 ^ ^
l<^-»^s>.) t(j.Ip
\ LLj 1 (Jy* 1 L: p tdl^>w_j

( 8 ) o — t— ~-t ^ ^ ^-tA* <3 '*—' j-t* f - f —' ^ J

The sea is telling the story of the imprisoned

homeland to the stars.
And the night, like a moaning beggar in tears, / /
Is knowing at the locked gates of Gazza, ' ^
Behind which the sad people dwell.
It wakes up the living who had been sleeping
under the rubble of the years.
As if they were in a grave on which the gravediggers >
were hammering. v

In her poem Madinati 3 1-Hazina "My Sad City", Fadwa Tuqan

(b.1927) shows what could be described as a remarkable artis­

tic ability in her treatment of the sad events of "the Zion­

ist occupation" in 1967 (9). The poet does not attempt to

describe literally the appearance of a city subjected to a

disastrous occupation, but resorts instead to suggestive m e t a ­

phors containing easily comprehended symbols of death and d e ­

struction. In her first stanza she pictures the defeat as a

shadow of death wandering all over the city with blood-stain­

ed feet and a mysterious silence*. ^-^u.q.an-_.w-ir"i-te-9':--~-.

* d

2L.J L*>i_J I ^ •*>^1 Li-j^j ^y-t

jL«_j I £>•

c - 1I JL» I CjJLJLp ^ j

L lju JI LLj I c A — j

• 4 4

liM I J J U - & I IgJLM- I

V J_fe V
 ( 267 )

Lj If t—
sJLjj 9 I j

0^- b J WrJ K C ^ e J 1
£>• Ls c~»— 1 « ,>_• u J - J U K

ji-
(10) * <!■« L jO I6

The day on which we witnessed death and betrayal

The high tide receded.
All apertures in the sky were shut.
And the city held its breath.

Children and songs disappeared.

No shade, no echo.
Sadness in my city was crawling naked
With blood in the wake of its steps.
And silence in my city,
Silence was crouching like mountains,
Mysterious like the night.
Silence was heart-rending,
Heavy laden with death and defeat.

In her second stanza, the poet depicts the Israeli occupation

as a plague threatening all aspects of life. She says:

, C L^JL
^ L* L/ IkmmlJ 1 Ujpw j}
Ju J v 1 J

(11 ) • J t> & I J, J Lf>J 1 j, t _5

The day in which the plague spread in my city

I went out into the open space.
My chest bared towards the sky
 ( 268 )

Calling on the winds from the depth of my sadness:

0 winds, blow hard and drive the clouds towards us.
Send a downpour of rain
To purify the air of my city,
To wash the houses, the mountains and the trees.

Proceeding to the third and fourth stanzas, one faces more ex ­

plicit symbolic images where death is described as "a venomous

serpent1', "an evil whirlwind" and "a black flood".

Like F.Tuqan, Samlh al-Qasim (b.1939) tries to convey quick

glimpses of death and destruction which he witnessed in his

homeland. But this presentation of scenes, almost in the

manner news is cast on television, succeeds in reflecting the

irony of calls for peace, while death and destruction reign

everywhere. Qasim says:

r tsyu , ajJbu
Ca t ^ M*&
L a it 1 |^| r J i » 0 V

! ( U*J I c 1^1 j , ULjI • • fJ_JLJ

1 J IaJbN 1cu Ul>- j

(1. \jp btj 1 \£ UlJ ■**■* • '

A 1Lj 1^.1 J La • • LmJ 1 J 1_i b

(12) !! 11 j 1^

Let others sing for peace.

Let others sing for friendship and brotherhood.
Let others sing, while the raven
 ( 269 )

Croaks between the ruins of our houses, and

The owls* crouched on the remains of the doves' towers.

Let someone else sing for peace,

While children's school bags are in tatters,

Mingled with the rubble of a collapsed school,
In which an echo of the last lesson about love and peace
Still scoffs at the silence.

Besides this general treatment of destruction, which can be

easily traced in many works by Palestinian poets, one may o b ­

serve the complementary attempt to present close-up images of

particular incidents of death committed against certain inno­

cent and defenceless Palestinian citizens. Some poets tend in

such cases to mention the name of the victim, the date of the

incident, the place and other circumstances, while others do

not. But in both cases the particular incident is dealt with

as one example characteristic of many others of similar cold­

blooded murders in the occupied land. In a poem entitled

Maqtal *AwwId al-Imara "The Killing of ^Awwad al-Imara",

Tawfiq Zayyad (b.1926) pictures the image of a naive peasant

who was shot three times while he was carrying his day's pr o ­

visions ,shoulder ing his ax and looking out over the fields,

dreaming of rain. Zayyad writes:

1 0 IP 1 1 d * L ***«I 1 Hai■I.V 1 jyL

Ij. 1 1 C d JU ^)n«>vJ 1 tSLfctj

* Owls , since the most ancient times, are thought of as bad

omens in Arab lore.
 ( 270 )

C li.trtL»<>'J

(13) L 1 **-> o K

Today Awwad al-Imara died on the asphalt ground

With a loaf of bread in his hand,
And an ax/on his shoulder.
Three bullets came from the b a r n s ’ side whistling.
He did not see even the bright flash of the gun,
For he was dreaming of rain.

Basaiso almost echoes Zayyad's sentiment about the inhuman

aggressiveness,and the apparent worthlessness of Palestinian

blood. As the situation reaches this level,a human being's

blood, as Basaiso reveals, becomes "cheaper than the water of

a stinking swamp",and "his flesh cheaper than the handkerchief

of a prostitute". B.a_s.also^-wr-ites

-1 1 *<—Lr..
1 11<*1—1a c L<< ^^
<3 ^ 1— j a5— >-j l

Our blood is cheaper

Than the water of a stinking swamp.
Cheaper than a bottle of wine.
 ( 271 )

Our flesh is cheaper than a prostitute's

handkerchief.
Cheaper than a piece of soap.
Our arteries are cheaper than a stick of wood.
Cheaper than the bridle of a mule.

The famous Kafr Qasim massacre committed in 1956 against

fifty people, including women and children, returning from

their fields in the evening not having heard that a curfeur

had been imposed (15), became a source of inspiration for

most of the Palestinian poets. The poetic treatment by Darwish

of the tragedy of Kafr Qasim is considered remarkable. In the

fourth stanza of his poem entitled al-Qatil Raqm 18

"Victim N o . 18", Darwish sincerely depicts one of the ma s s ­

acre's victims, a simple young labourer who once believed that

"the world is but a blue sky and a green grove of olive trees"

But this peace and tranquility he experienced was abruptly

disturbed when the Israeli military forces stopped the labour­

ers' lorry and started to execute the workmen travelling in it

Darwish has the victim No.18 saying:

* 1
1 15

*>• L •15 •

? p ~- 1I lacs La I u

t_.j jJ It-L h*. Q L.«« 1I &j 1■ ■ 1

La 15 j

(16) 1j L a I^j 15 j * * (3 11 1 Ij ^
 ( 272 )

Once the olive grove was green

It was ... and the sky
A grove of blue. It was, my love.
What changed it that evening?

At the bend in the taiirck they stopped

The lorry of workers'.'"
So calm they were,
They turned us round towards the east
So calm they w e r e . (17)

Again, the victimized young man seems to withdraw himself from

that immediate cruelty and reverts to the innocent dreams of

V'tt
/
his beloved and her white handkerchiefs. But, painfully, those
vt
handkerchiefs are now stained with blood:

c- L. • • p Lij j 3 3 O ^

L C w IS t ^ L..io_ w If.,IS p *-L L j L >4

* * 1 1 t Jft JJ 1 U
(1 8 ) L Mj'tN bl

Once my heart was a blue bird,

0 nest of my beloved.
The handkerchiefs I had of yours were all white,
They were, my love,
What stained them that evening?
1 do not understand at all, my love.(19)

The young man had been killed, but the images of his love,

the wedding ring, the rendezvous are still hovering around him.

What could his soul say to his waiting beloved but this apol­

ogy, "blame me not if I am late". In the end the painful truth

is flashed through these words:

^1 U.S ciw IS ^ ^ 3-^ L*c>

 ( 273 )

<t—<.»>■«n * • * 'j «»

(20) cr-i> 1-"5 * • ^ J L "q * • * tjjJ?3— 1J

The olive grove was always green,

It was my love.
Fifty victims
Turned it at sunset into
A crimson pond. Fifty victims.
Beloved, do not blame me.
They killed me. They killed me.
They killed m e . (21)

k k it k k

In the preface to his collection Dami *Ala Kaffi "My Blood

in the Palm of My Hand", Qasim quotes the following words of

Christ which appear in the Gospel of St. John:

(j * ■;" cr*-5 r*-* “ J <-£ ^ jjj d— hj— 1 a . .>- jW-sj: q \

(22) * sr2^ ltt-* c-j: U 0 I{^ S J j •

Verily, Verily, I say unto you, except a

corn of wheat fall into the ground and
die, it abideth alone: but if it die, it
bringeth forth much fruit.(23)

These words allude to a significant aspect, namely that of

the fruitful death which has received a great deal of atten­

tion in Palestinian poetry. It is a death through which the

promised rebirth blossoms forth. Within this dimension, death

 ( 274 )

is portrayed as a dynamic act, a form of self-redemption and

the ultimate in the defence of the values of the cultural and

political identity of the Palestinians. Likewise, death is a

sacrifice which must be accomplished by will and total commit­

ment. One must add, however, that this attitude reflects, pe r ­

haps, an influence of martyr imagery in Islam, and hence por­

trays the relationship between martyrdom and immortality.

- - c -
These verses of the Quran appear in surat A1 I m ra n :

OSS
(24) * O S ^ j ^ ^ S ^ f-t-i ^-.uJ L

Think not of those who are slain in God's

way as dead. Nay, they live, finding their
sustenance in the presence of their Lord.
They rejoice in the bounty provided by God,
and with regard to those left behind, who
have not yet joined them (in their bliss).
The (martyrs)glory in the fact that on them
is no fear, nor have they (cause to) gr ie ve. (25)

And in surat al-Nisa*:

(26) * U - ks \j> 1

To him who fighteth in the cause of God,-

whether he is slain or gets victory- soon
shall we give him a reward of great (value).(27)

These verses of the Holy Quran imply that sacrificing one's

soul to defend a belief or a noble task is not in vain, because

 ( 275 )

the martyr who embarks on such a deed will be awarded immor­

tality in heaven. With the above belief in mind the martyr's

deed is glorified. Having assimilated the Islamic concept of

martyrdom, and being animated by vehement enthusiasm towards

their national task, the Palestinian poets proceed to portray

a unique understanding of "heroic death" as a dynamic force

sustaining for ever its influential inspiration. The martyr,

they believe, is not merely a passing soul but, on the con­

trary, he remains as a living symbol animating others with an

undying glow of national zeal. The martyr or the slain warrior

therefore, seems to have turned into an eternal voice reiterat

ing, as Basaiso writes:

( 28) ^ ^ ^ ^ I..*- ^ *1 L:^ ^ L;^

I did not die.

I still call you from behind my wounds.

In her description of the case of Muntaha Huranl,a school

girl who participated in a demonstration and was killed by an

Israeli patrol, F.Tuqan effectively portrays the positive im­

pact of the girl's death. The murder of this innocent girl, as

the poet depicts it, seems to animate a new spirit of enthusi­

asm and spread a fresh will for struggle among all the people

and all over the city in which the girl was killed. It is

profitable to cite a considerable part of this poem by F.Tuqan

in order to have a close view of her profound images and vivid

 ( 276 )

treatment. The poem is entitled Jarimat Qatl fi Yawmin Laysa

kal Ayyam"A Crime on a Day Unlike Other Days” :

^ L«i.!■a ' 1 1f- juiAj

Jjj C U Li J J-5 11 ^

I ^ l^ v J I Jljbum (J5 (!_«■— w I 1 I j j J I Cj J U J

Itil^rauHA— b I ^je— <• 1 ^t -». C< l>. l**l, 1

| LVa ) 1 C3 j ^i
ii<^ 1 ^<9^ ^
2L-J 1 2 U — a J 1 cri J-Lfe

<i.■i
..Aa* 1
«15 l ^ j J 1 <j“* W 1^ ; ^ * * C^lsJL*J 1 U ^ k — m *1 tf

— o - z * LSjlJ 1 j 3 j-* J j Ll*J 1 ^ j k - w 3 3 s

‘^ A ^ t < U ^ ■<», 1 1 JJ-b

^ -* j lii rt I.,,.*< L^J ...L»k t o 1**^ ' ' 1 j> 1 ■«

lftJ) I 1 ./> U (j^JLLo l j i l .9 L«

* (_,■f“..U £>^> l<a i^ 1 ^

9 ^ w iJ 1 ^ U —m J 1 L^>* I^ S 1 ^ L * 5 1 fj)i L * <

1 ^ iiX sJ 1Li 1 ik <# ) I ^ 1 ^ 1* *i ^

(29) • 1.% " ■I JL_/Jl>Jtci l..l><1 I 1 j^-JLx-T t}

In the morning, her school apron

Sprouted red anemones and bunches of roses.
Phrases about the struggle in the textbooks,
Which had been censored
Were rewritten.
The map, which they effaced,
Returned to the pages.
Her school apron fluttered
Like a flag in the classrooms,
Flapped and spread.
It shaded the angry streets,
The fruit laden trees.
Her school apron fluttered out of the windows,
Above the houses' roofs,
Over the s h o p s ' aw nin gs .
 ( 277 )

It shaded the mosques, the churches,

Arid the domes.

They did not kill Muntaha, nor crucify her.

She only went out to hang the moons of her joy
On the firmament.
To declare that the olddays had come to an end.
To declare that the new agehad begun.

Like F.Tuqin, Mayy Sayigh in her poem Q a s a ’id Hubb Li-*Smin

Mutlrad Yud^a rAmmati"Love Poems to a Blacklisted Name Called,

My Aunt" addresses her aunt, another Palestinian rebel killed

in a strike, by saying:

Your grave will remain bare

Except for the flower of undaunted fortitude.

In subsequent lines M.Sayigh enters into an intimate conversa­

tion with her aunt as if she were still living and able to

listen and react. Likewise, the poet expresses her beliefs

that the role of this rebel did not end, and that she is now,

despite her death, in possession of a perpetual glow and still,

in a way, continuing the struggle against the enemy. The glory

of a dead fighter, in Sayigh's words, never vanishes, but on

the contrary is transformed by death into an enchanting spirit

spreading joy, opening all closed doors, generating fertility

and hopes. She writes:

^j) *'.» *.i.m>^ ^ j.*I i i. *Cj 1 i."Y I 1^ >.*.i U "1

||P J (3*"* ^ )1 p ^I 1
 ( 278 )

ill ^ O ^ ^ 3
11 »ii4 ) I t" i lju ^ O ’tf?'.-ftj “.*> ■»
* .I1 it t.j■.m > j

3j l \ j J \ 3j y ^ .m « I1 dL* 1JlS 1 J...i" .» I * • • *

V crf^3 cr* ^ * t-^ ^

♦ ♦ • • ♦

\ ‘»t....r-t I1 J U b-^ J 1 fjf* •*■»_' < i-J I ^J *>■*< <13 3 ^ 'mt " * ' ^ V ^

iU !>■I *■i '1 ^ **j ^ ^ ■.^

(31 ) * I U ^ J J JlP ^ * |>—» 1I i■
;■*"

Do you know that the strike was a success?

And that they can not efface the slogan
Tattooed on your arm.
That they cannot demolish the date of your birth.
You will glow for ever, chaining the occupiers,
Lashing them with whips of the sun's light.

Your enchanting steps keep haunting me.

Joy springs within my heart;doors open before me.

Longing proceeds from the forlorn doors

Singing *Ataba and Mijana*.
The roads widen, the yards flourish,
Announcing our coming to the seasons.

Another eminent example of the motif of the never-ending

impact of the "heroic death" is given by Darwish, who portrays

the death of his friend ^Abdullah at the hands of the execu­

tioner. Despite his death, ^Abdullah, in Darwish's depiction

of him, possesses a unique presence; he still goes out for a

stroll every evening, slips through the windows and keeps sow­

ing the seeds in the soil of the future. Darwish says:

LfiJjJ I (jJ I Ly~~'3"* ^ ^ V 3j Lj&

* ^Ataba and Mijani, are Palestinian folk songs.

 ( 279 )

Lj <,4 Q IS
* L —. J5
^ l^* (J^.,W*> ,-W-.l IS m >* y j x i r f

^ L —i 1 Li ^
<i—lJ IiX*p »> *v>j ijfS.
,1
* L-Jv L </■»■«-*-;
* ♦ ♦

( * ! I (J-ajw V 3 J ip

.>
^). I*"»^ I 1 I y j ^ 1—4-^1 1 (AaJ ^ 1 rt "J Ip ^ IS

* L» -■»uP„/^ Ior-* o^J

(32) 1^-j In»L ^ oJJ Li >p j ^SJ t L.. n.* 'I Lj 1 ^

The dead, generally,

Do not come out for a stroll.
But my friend
Was enchanted by it.
Every evening, his body would dangle,
Like a branch, from every crevice.
And I would open my window
To let ^Abdullah in.
That he might bring me together
With the prophets.

The dead, generally,

Do not work.
But my friend
Had the habit of putting moons in the mud.
And of planting a sky in the ground.
And I would open my window
That ^Abdullah might enter
Free and u n f et te re d.(33)

In his book S h a y ’un *An al-Watan, Darwish demonstrates this

previous impression about the impact of the F i d a 7 i*, who dedi­

* In Arabic the word F i d a ?i , which comes from the root fadl

(to ransom), is applied to "one who offers his life for an­
other, a name used of special devotees in several religious
and political groups".
Encyclopaedia of I s l a m , (a r t .Fi da* l)

In modern Arabic, the word as defined in al-Mu^jam al-WasIt,

applies to the "one who sacrifices himself for the sake of
God or the homeland".
 ( 280 )

cates his life to his country. In the following lines he tries

to assess the significance of the Fid a’I's role and reflect

the impact his accomplishment has on others. Darwish writes:

We love this unforgettable hero (the martyr)

because he defends a noble cause. Death for
him is a bridge or a state of consciousness
or a harsh and beautiful transition through
which he can realize his being and the being
of others who are a part of him. He becomes
a martyr. The death of the martyr is an e n ­
nobling and charming one, because it does
not happen in vain. Every soldier who dies
while defending his homeland or defending a
noble cause undoubtedly justifies the en ­
thusiasm he receives. Grief for him, then,
will be free from regret .(34)

The above quotation vividly illustrates the notion of the

"beautiful and ennobling death". But the idea of the "beloved

death" in Palestinian poetry by no means reflects those de ­

lusions about the goodness and desirability of death, popular

among the romantic poets. It is simply a profound longing e x ­

pressing a love for their homeland and constituting a symbol of

identity, even if this love be fulfilled through death. The

famous poem al-Shahid "The Martyr" of ^Abd ? 1 -Rahim Mahmud

(1913-1948), a distinguished fighter and poet who died on the

battlefield in 1948, is rightly regarded, in the words of S.

Kh. JayyusI, as "a noble example of poetry alive and glowing

with the clash of battle and the hovering shadow of magnifi­

cent death"(35). His fate, as he predicted in the following

verses, appears almost as the reward of his patriotic devotion:

 ( 281 )

i5 t<5j 1+-* ^3 t_ylp j J— *>- Lwm>

« ♦ * * • ♦ - . + ♦ * ♦ # #

0 k . O \

(26) u ■■"•* ■'"'‘"f ^I t£J$-j o «$** J 1- JI fm 1**.«

I will bear my soul on the palm of my hand,

And hurl it into the pit of death.
I see my fate, but quicken my steps towards it.
To fall defending my usurped rights,
Defending my country,
This, I see, is my desire.(37)

Commenting on *Abd ’1-Rahim Mahmud's poem, Jabra Ibrahim Jabra

in his book al-Nar wa *1-Jawhar says that:

A.Mahmud was extremely sensitive towards beauty

and death. There is a mysterious connection
between beauty and death, and this is what most
poets perce ive According to lovers, the
sense of death might be extremely stimulating,
for they willingly tend to fulfil their love
for beauty through death. But this sense of love
in the poets fighting for national causes, fre­
quently, inclines them to challenge death and
expect it in the course of the struggle for
whatever cause they love. The shift from the "be­
loved woman" to the "beloved land" is simple and
spontaneous, since the beauty of both animated
similar images. This was what appealed to 'Abd’l-
Rahim Mahmud; he contemplated beauty and his home­
land and anticipated de ath .(38)

The relationship between love and death seems to be a great

concern in Palestinian poetry, with regard to their substitu­

tion of the beloved homeland for the beloved woman. The nation­

ally inspired lover hence often aspires for the realization of

his love through death. In his poem Don Juan wa Klhinat ’I-Nar

"Don Juan and the Priestess of Fire", Qisim demonstrates an

 ( 282 )

intense love for his beloved Palestine whom he calls "the

priestess of fire". The love he expresses abounds with yearn

i n g , intoxication and persistent desire to release strong

emotions by attempting to attain a death truly worthy of the

intense spiritual state of the lover and the beloved. Qasim

says, representing Don Juan:

j L J 1 JLifc V t J£ u / \

^ ^ J ii J I ^ J l l ■■«. 1^.^

1(■ *«— - J f i.J-3 'J 3a '" o ■*■**

j !_j— 13
d -* 1®

d -i ^ ^

L L-ii

^ b J 1 2LL-ft IS L

(3-5 ^ ij i*-;.— (j-5 * * * <J“?^ (j*®1 ;*

rt /ti»^ii ii (Lpww

(j ■» U J I j j*** ' L

( 39) • j lj) 13^-* • . *

I shall abandon all my beloveds

Except the priestess of fire.
I will remain with her for ever.
And she will remain with me until/!
The day of my martyrdom. f'
My hunger is severe.
My blood is wine and ears of corn.
Come on my dearest love,
My sublime love
0 priestess of fire,
Let's search for an appropriate death
In an appropriate field.
Let's search for an appropriate wound of love
Worthy of the lover and the beloved.
Let's search for a death of love
In a great battle.
 ( 283 )

Beyond this elementary outline of death as a tragic experi­

ence as well as a beautifully heroic one, is a further aspect

closely related to these two, and that is death as a mystical

experience. Examining this aspect, one may perceive that the

fall of a martyr by no means represents a final stage of his

existence, but, hopefully, represents a beginning of a spirit­

ual journey towards the heart of his country. It is an embrace

of the motherland, a return to one's origin. The death of the

warrior-devotee, according to this interpretation, does not

represent an end, it is only a departure or a metaphysical

entrance into the essence of the homeland. Qasim in the follow­

ing example draws a simple but very compressed image of a dead

devotee who emerges towards a mystical unification with nature

in his homeland, and experiences thorough incorporation in it.

Qasim says:

(40) t *i ^ V—^ 3 ^ B yr*

If I am killed, rest my body against a rock,

And direct my face towards the winds.
And let me completely pass away
Into the clouds of the night
And the dewy grass of the early morning.

The best commentary on these lines appears in the words of

Nazih Abu Nidal who says:

 ( 284 )

This kind of attachment to the land began

to take shape within a form of mystical
love and absorption. That is to say the
lover becomes one with the beloved and in­
separable from h i m . (41)

In his poem * A ’idon Ila Yafa "Returning to Jaffa", Darwish

describes a departure of a martyr towards his birthplace with

a view to the belief that this departure is a kind of a sin­

cere reunion with an intimate and sublime homeland. Darwish

says:

I—9 W j

Now he departs from us

And settles in Jaffa.
And he knows it stone by stone.
Nothing resembles him.
And songs imitate him,
Imitate his green re ndezvous.(43)

Another mystical reunion with Jerusalem is pictured as having

been achieved by the martyr W a ’il Z^aitir whose death has been

effectively depicted in these words of F.Tuqan:

<L .* 1I * (_jJ 1 ^ 1 <1 .>y» L .

t.1I<*) ■
JjM I d b I(j.jlsJ I C5J 3 li
(44) • 2 U_j*J \d L-k.p 1 o j+J \
Now, rest your proud head
Against the Dome of the Rock in Jerusalem.
It embraces you
As death granted you life.

Reaching such a lofty spiritual state through devotion could

be, as Qasim says, the appropriate occasion for the devotee

to attain the transformation (e.g. a political or military

victory) which would effectively realize his dreams. This

achievement he characterizes with the image of "the bird of

thunder". He writes:

JLP^J \ j Z l_b
jl- V
lft 1,!>.*,L.; Jkv l.1
(45) J) « 't <L....♦■» 1 Ii,I» 1I

The bird of thunder

Must come.
For we have already reached
The summit of death.

Since the "summit of death" implies such glory, it normally

turns into a manifestation of life, a festival and a wedding.

Thus Darwish says:

 ( 286 )

Save your tears for the festival.

We will not cry except out of joy.
Come, let's call death on the battlefield
A wedding ... a life!

From this point which associates death with joy, one may

proceed to the idea that enduring suffering bravely leads to

salvation. The symbol of Christ as one who "sought the cross"

emerges as the main source of inspiration for the Palestinian

poets who, while experiencing their adverse fate, believe as

Darwish writes:

■•j ^ !13 tr-k j • pd ^ •- !!o ^ * * ’

(47) * o ♦ • • 1 £-5 1-^0 )i1 i J.,i1

If the crucified Lord hadn't come of age

On the throne of the cross
He'd have remained a child whose wound was forfeit
A coward.

D.Johnson-Davies remarks in his introduction to his translat­

ions from Darwish's poetry - The Music of Human F l e s h , that:

Resorting to Christian imagery is perhaps

more understandable in a Palestinian poet
for whom the plight of his country is nat­
urally expressed in symbols of Christian
suffering.(48)

One may notice the similarities between Christ and the Pales­

tinian fighter, the Fida ?i, for both of them reach the peak

of devotion and fulfilment through death."The miracle of both,

 ( 287 )

Christ and the F i d a ’I" , as N.Abu Nidal puts it, "consists in

realizing salvation for others"(49). Darwish says;

(50)

If I should burn on the cross of my devotion

I would become a saint
In the uniform of a fighter.

According to this understanding, death turns into something

creative, something that can be made a source of strength,

guidance and ever-present resistance. In his poem Sawtun min

’ 1-Ghaba "An Echo From the Wood", Darwish depicts himself,

like hiscountry^and likeall the neglected prophet rebels,

crucified on a cross. But the hope of being saved from this

ordeal never leaves him. He writes:

1 d—jI—P
iJJL-a J 1 p l—>-
j !■ <11 1.c- 1■***<
o*1"” ('‘’ ^ O by—.*-11 ^
^ IjlJL) 1 1<i
11 i...m “ 1*-^;
. * * I— — ,
(51) • cO L*aJ 1 1) I 1*m > (jJLlaj;

From the olive grove

The echo came,
As I was crucified on the flames,
 ( 288 )

Saying to the ravens: "do not snap"

For I may return to my home.
And the sky may rain.
It may extinguish
This flaming wood.

In CJala ’ 1-Mughanni "The Singer Said", Darwish views his cross

as a platform from which he can declare his undaunted forti­

tude, whereas the nails are pictured as musical strings on

which he plays joyfully, celebrating his sacrifice. He says:

^ L d J J LS

La J 115— &

I JJJL;
(52) ^

The singer's wound on the cross of pain

Shines like a star.
He reveals everything to people around him
Except regret:
I died standing up on my feet,
Standing like trees.
Thus the cross becomes a rostrum
Or a tuning fork.
And its nails become musical strings.
This is how the rain falls
This is how the trees flourish.

In the verses of Ahmad Dahbur and M.Sayigh, the same strong

 ( 289 )

connection between the cross and the anticipated flourishing

of fields and sweet basil can be clearly noticed. In D ah» bu r 's

words:

„ \jJ fr I
^ h I1 —A J—'
C> '»* »■—•* tjr9
(53 ) z

This night the bells tell me

About a fighter whom all the children know.
There are two nails in his hands.
The fields spread around him.
And his face'is like a lighthouse.

And in Sayigh's words:

LhbM»4 |n i yJ
^11iB^1 L»J^JJpJ ^ <iXi<i
nw t
(^ > 1 ,<* i—r 1 p *V ^ (J-lp 1 t*— *

The nails rust in my hands.

I rest my back on your shade./
and the sweet basil grows on/my cross.
'
P*'V

The luxuriant green life around the cross seems to allude to

the idea that death is the occasion of a renascence. This idea

perhaps forms the final aspect of all the ideas outlined so

far. That is to say, the martyr glorifies the land which

grants life to the living, and he expresses his love by sacri­

ficing himself willingly in order to bring hope and fertility

 ( 290 )

to the land. Thus the martyr remains a unique symbol of hope

whose death is associated, in the works of many Palestinian

poets, with renascence. In her poem Marthiyyat 1-Shuhada

"An Elegy to the Martyrs", S.Kh Jayyusi addresses the land of

Palestine saying:

C, 1j— Ic?J L*N 1tiV 1 0-aJ

ill 1 «3 1 I I d L j U A j

1 ' I (Jp C pI^1>« L s * * • l^jLfLaP

1j lj, J L J?j L c 11—i I1.11^!> IL

(55)* ^ j U I o- c^ U * L_k*_*J 1 S ^^Jt 2 U J L

Remember
That the loftiest among your ages
Is the age of rebirth,
In which thousands of good hands
Grant you goodness just as they are
Chilled by death.

When they (martyrs) decided to die

The white graves filled up
With the bloom of youth,
With green hopes, with fragrance.
And 1 i f e ,vigorous and generous,
Welled out of the graves.

F.Tuqan expresses almost the same idea by saying that the

martyr's death could be the new force that might revive the

dead land and prepare it for a resurrection, she says addess-

ing the spirit of the martyr W a ’il Z^aitir:

 ( 291 )

1 J
1— -■C J 1 I Jf L*-JkJ '“ ■ ■ tt &
C> 1ty. ■«1I LjjJ IjJ Iil+A L

o^aj tjJi i<~1

(56) *

You, who awakens the world

Which had completely died.
You, who had shaken the world

You, who refused death,

You have now defeated death
By dying.

A remarkable example in this vein is one by Basaiso, who uses

the image of his body merely as a symbol of fertility in the

soil of the future. "My body is soil" he says, "it is high

time for ploughing, it is high time for sowing the seeds". To

observe the whole picture, it is appropriate to provide his

entire image. Basaiso says:

I«■.ft I*-9 **--*-“**

l__J ^ I <l*-3 U ,_y-sj) c,j—1— icsJ I a .* " Ls c*J *1

Y la i j dJ f U
.) *** c» 1.iJ I ^3 J 9

j> J i \ <j ■> ■«■■■*•

I o-s j c-_s^J 1 lift j

I p 1 aJ I lift

(57) • ^ Lsj)-L>)I a J j-J

 ( 292 )

They will come back, they are still here.

You and I are on the killed list.
What are you waiting for?
I left the door open for them.
My body is the s o i l .
/ It is high time for ploughing.
J It is high time for sowing the seeds.

My body abounds with rivers,

And this is the night of the flood.

While dealing with the idea of rebirth through death, the

Palestinian poets often resort to the cycle of vegetation

in nature which serves the purpose of their subject. Thus the

relevant terms such as, soil, seeds, ploughing, fertility,

rain, growth, flourishing..etc , seem to be frequently used,

taking into consideration the direct link between these

elements and the concept of "land" as a beloved "homeland"

and as a source of fertility. Palestine, likewise, is por­

trayed by many Palestinian poets as the image of the beloved

woman who deserves to be worshipped and redeemed. This image

tended to be widened to include another quality of the fertile

woman, namely her ability to bear embryos and to give birth.

The land of Palestine, according to this view, is but a large

womb that will, hopefully, bear seeds and abound with fruit

as long as it bears fighters with a fresh will to continue the

struggle. F.Tuqan says in this connection:

21 1 I
j. i U-Jj i—>■ v i (jj
JL_>- * • -t* 1 i I.*
X-iw-J (jfS-J 1 j -J I
 ( 293 )

(58) Jj:LJUJ 1 «J 1Cwjj

This land is a woman.

The secret of fertility in the furrows
And in the wombs
Is one and the same.
The secret force that makes palm trees
And ears of corn grow,
Is the same force which produces fighters.

An Imaginary conversation by Darwlsh with both a mulberry leaf

and a victimized soul, in a poem entitled Hiwar fl Tishrin

"A Conversation in Autumn", drove him to grasp the very e s ­

sence of correspondence between these two elements. Both of

them, the leaf and the victim, will be revived by rain, the

symbol of hope, despite the storm, the symbol of evil. In the

first stanza the poet has this brief conversation with a m u l ­

berry leaf:

^ ^3 ^ ^ 3 “f1* J
(59). a_is 1*J | SjjjJJ

I converse with a mulberry leaf:

It is unfortunate for the storms
That the rain revives you,
That their victim never dies.

I will reward the storms

 ( 294 )

By granting the bereaved flower

More love.

In the last stanza, Darwish converses with the soul of a

vi c t i m :

: L w J 1 ^ l_>-1
^ K 4 !I 1 <S f^A_] I 1ft **" ^ J) i. »l J

^ j~in h ^ I C J 1 d j 1 cl Ja > j

(6 0 ) * __LaJ L- * ♦ • M-jb L--/ • * * }L-o>

I converse with the soul of a victim:

It is unfortunate for the storms
That the rain resurrects you.
And it is fortunate for you that
You are the victim.
Welcome... welcome... rain!

The previous example seemingly tends to confirm the element

of resemblance between the perpetual cycle of nature and

man's dream of immortality through resurrection. The imagery

of death and resurrection in Palestinian poetic works, h o w ­

ever, is often characterized with simplicity and tends to e m ­

ploy easily comprehended symbols and metaphors. The mythologi­

cal aspects in these works, therefore, must not be overstress­

ed. The Palestinian crisis is, obviously, a political and

social problem which directly affects the whole of the Pales­

tinian people, and by no means represents individuals as much

as it represents collective attitudes. The awareness of the

general public as the audience addressed in the poetic process,

 ( 295 )

perhaps, prevents the Palestinian poets from evolving compli­

cated symbolic usages or an intricate mythology of their own.

Furthermore, the experience of the struggle and of resistance

tends to face the poet-fighter with an immediate situation of

overt violence which needs to be responded to with similar and

spontaneous immediacy, and in an intelligible poetic medium.

Jabra Ibrahim JabrI says in this connection:

The main characteristic of the resistance

poetry consists in depicting the act of r e ­
sistance as a living and forceful act which
emerges from the events of daily life. They
(the Palestinian poets) assess their experi­
ence as a visual and sensual one, and d i s ­
pense with the need to go beyond the immedi­
ate into abstractions they can do wi th ou t. (61)
 FOOTNOTES TO CHAPTER VII

(1) Darwlsh, Mahmud, Shay’un (An al-Watan, Beirut, 1971, p. 8,

(Shay fu n )

(2) For a lengthy display of this situation see:

Hadawl, Sami, Bitter Harvest, Palestine Between 1914-1967,
Newyork, 1967, p.203-217, (Bitter H ar v e s t ); Ferguson, ~
Pamela, The Palestine Pr ob lem , London, T973, p.92-3

(3) To trace the echoes of Palestinian solidarity with other

liberation movements in other parts of the world see for
example: Darwish, Mahmud, D i w a n ,B e ir ut , 1978, I, his poems
" *An al-Umniyat" p . 77-9, "Lorca", p . 114-8; al-Qasim, Samih,
D i w a n , Beirut, 1973, his poem "Bitaqat ila Mayadin al-
M a craka" p.328-331

(4) Khurl, Il yl s,_"*Alam *1-Dalalat fi ’l-Shi*r al-Filistini",

Majallat S h u ’un Filistlniyya, No.41-42, Jan-Feb, 1975,
Beirut, p . 367

(5) T r e n d s , I, p. 297

(6) Mustafa, Khalid, al-Shitfr al-Filistini al-Hadith, Baghdad,

1978, p . 64-70; Naqqash, Raja , Mahmud Darwish, Shakir al-
Ard al-Muhtalla,
— ----4......... ........ ■;--------------
Cairo, (n.d), p.96-7

(7) Muhammad, Khalid Sulayman, The Influence of the Political

Situation in Palestine on Arabic Po e t r y , Ph.D thesis,
London University, S O A S , 1982, p.261-3

(8) Basaiso, M u * i n , Di wa n, Beirut, 1979 , p . 53

(9) D iw a n, Beirut, 1978, p.481

Ibi d , p.481-2

(11) Ibi d , p.483

(12) D i wa n, p. 84-7

(13) Zayyad, Tawfiq, D i w a n , Beirut, 1971, p . 244-5

(14) Diwan, p. 246

 ( 297 )

(15) Jurays, Sabri, al-*Arab fi Isr a’il, Dirasat Filisfiniyya,

II, 19 6 7 j Beirut, p. 11-44; Bitter H a r v e s t , p.205-211

(16) Diwan, I, p . 342-3

(17) Trans: Johnson-Davies, D, The Music of Human Flesh:Poems

of the Palestinian Struggle, L o n d o n ,1980,p.25, (M u s i c )
(18) Darwish, D i w a n , I, p. 343

(19) M u s i c , p.25

(20) D i w an , I, p . 344-5

(21) M u s i c , p .26

(22) Forward to Samih al-Qasim's diwin Dami *Ala Kaffi,al-

Ma.jmuca al-Kamiia, Beirut, 1978 , p .445

(23) St. John's G o s p e l , Chap.XII:24

(24) Al-Qur^an al -Karim, surat Al rlmran, cviix, clxx

(25) The Holy Quran, Trans:^Ali, A.Yusuf, New Delhi, (n.d),

p.167

(26) Verse : lxxiv

(27) The Holy Q u r a n , p .202

(28) D i w an , p.51

(29) D i w a n , p . 562-3

(30) Sayigh, Mayy, Qaga^id Hubb L i - ?Smin M u t a r a d ,Be i r u t ,1974, J

p .8, (Qasa^id H u b b ) ’ , *

(31) I b i d , p .9-10

(22) D i wa n, I, p.417-9

(23) M u s i c , p.31-2

(24) Sh ay* un , p . 153

(35) T r e n d s , I, p. 297

(36) Mahmud, ^Abd *1-Rahim, D i w a n , ed: al-Sawaflri, Kamil,

Beirut, 1974, p. 120-2

(37) Trans from: Trends, I, p. 297

 ( 298 )

(38) al-Nar, p . 161

(39) Diwan, p.432-3

(40) Diwan, p. 698

(41) Jadal ^ l - S h ^ r wa '’l-Thawra, Beirut, 1979 , p.73

(42) Diwan, II, p . 77

(43) Music, p. 51

(44) Diwan, p . 609-10

(45) Diwan, p.439

(46) Diwan, I, p . 555

(47) Ibid, p .558-9

(48) Music, p.xiv

(49) al-Shirr al-Filistini al-Muqitil, Beirut, 1974, p. 71

(50) Diwan, I, p.379

(51) Ibid, p . 180-1

(52) Ibid, p. 145-6

(53) D ah bu r, Ahmad, Tl^ir al-Wihdat, Beirut, 1979, p. 48

(54) Q a s a rid Hubb, p . 78

(55) Jayyusi, S.Kh, al-^Awda min ^l-Nab^ al-Halim, Beirut,

1960, p . 100 and 102

(56) Diwan, p. 610

(57) Diwan, p. 612

(58) Diwan, p . 543

(59) Diwan, I, p . 336

(60) Ibid, p . 338

(61) al-Nir, p . 162

 CONCLUSION

Like many concepts in modern Arabic poetry, the concept of

death underwent significant transformations from the turn of

the twentieth century up to the seventies. During this period

many literary trends and movements from the West and the East

left their influences on Arabic poetry, and new critical the­

ories were enthusiastically studied. The need was felt early

in the twentieth century for a transformation of form in

Arabic poetry to free it from the limitations imposed on it

over the centuries by the monorhyme and monometre require­

ments. The transformation in form was apt to bring about a

transformation of the poets' views of the very function of

poetry. The evolution of all poetic concepts seemed inevitable.

Poetry was viewed as one of the main agents helping to bring

about a revival of Arab culture and civilization, and as an

agent of change, poetry, it seemed, and quite logically, could

not remain unaffected by the rapid changes which the poets

desired to see in every other sphere of life.

Although it is not easy to find exact dates of demarcation

between a literary period and another, one may say that the

concept of death in modern Arabic poetry goes through three

major stages of development during this century. The first

stage corresponds to the late decades of the nineteenth cen-

 ( 300 )

tury and the early decades of the twentieth. During this per­

iod the revival of the Arabic classical and medieval literary

heritage was in progress. It was an era which witnessed the

acquaintance of writers and poets with the best examples of

the Arabic literary heritage, when these were being edited

and published and made more readily available to the general

reader. The poets at the turn of the century, much under the

influence of the Arabic classical and medieval literature,

and generally referred to as the neo-classicists of modern

Arabic literature, were quick to adopt both the framework and

the ways of expression of their ancestors. This adoption of

the literary values and principles of the classical literary

heritage betrays a considerable degree of deference to the

genius of the past. Consequently, the neo-classicists composi­

tions appeared like persistent efforts aimed at attaining the

standards of classical and medieval poetry, and emulating what

were considered as examples of excellence in this poetry.

Surveying the theme of death in the classical and medieval

heritage, the neo-classicists found out that death was primar­

ily treated in the genre of the elegy. The elegy became also

a separate category of poetry in the works of the neo-classi­

cists, and death was dealt with or written about only within

the framework of the elegy. The efforts of the neo-classicists

in the treatment of death barely exceeded a mere attempt at

emulation of the works of their predecessors.

In trying to assess the elegy works of the neo-classicists.,

 ( 301 )

one seems to search in vain for the elements of genuineness

and personal experience which might reflect the mode of think­

ing of the age in which they lived. "Personal experience", it

has been rightly said, "is the basis of all real 1iterature"(1).

This remark one might say applies to the classical elegy, if

one bears in mind the spirit of the age and the range of

thought it set out to express or convey. The poetry of the Arab

classicists, as Professor Gibb puts it, "expressed their own

passions and emotions, and portrayed their lives as individuals

and as a society forcefully and truthfully"(2). The ideas e x ­

pressed in the classical elegy, however naive, were a genuine

reflection of the way of life in a particular age and milieu.

In their emulation of the classical elegy, the neo-classi­

cists seem to have overlooked the importance of the elements

of genuineness and personal self-expression which constitute

the basic pillars of all poetic creativity. They also seem to

have been totally unaware that poetry owes its greatness in

the first place to the impressionability and spontaneity of

the poet, and not to an exercise in imitation of given pat­

terns and stereotyped modes of expression. For, to quote W.H.

Hudson, "what we call genius is only another name for fresh­

ness and originality of nature, with its resulting freshness

and originality of outlook upon the world, of insight, and of

thought"(3). The emulation which the neo-classicists undertook

was so strikingly meticulous, that it drove them to mere lit­

erary artifice. Hence we find that the neo-classical elegy,

 ( 302 )

apart from appearing in the same framework and garb as its

classical prototype, communicates to us practically pre-Islam-

ic imagery, thought, and even life style and customs. It is

important, then, while comparing the genuine experi­

ences of the classicists and the artificial craft of the neo-

classicists, to distinguish between what Carlyle calls the

"genuine voices" and the mere "echoes", between the men who

speak for themselves and those who speak only on the report

of others (4). The lack of sincerity, of personal experience,

of exposing the age's mode and fashion, is almost striking

among the neo-classicists especially in the theme of the elegy.

Plato's pronouncement here, has indeed a very true ring about

it:

The foundation of all good and lasting

work in literature is entire sincerity
to oneself, to one's own experience of
life, and to the truth of things as one
is privilleged to see it.(5)

Sincerity and truth, one may assert, are the distinct mark of

creativity in every age, and it is this property which endows

poetry with perpetual freshness and originality.

It appears that this element of originality, however, was

distinctly lacking in the neo-classical elegy, and that the

theme of death in the writings of the neo-classicists remain­

ed, so to speak, frozen in the same classical mould from which

it sprung. The neo-classical elegy was merely a repetitive

process, practically an identical imitation of classical

 ( 303 )

models, and a ready-made framework in which preceding poetic

concepts and criteria were restated and preserved.

The second stage in the development of the concept of death

can be said to be the contribution of romanticism in Arabic

literature, a movement which flourished between the twenties

and the forties of this century. In this period, death was no

longer treated within the mere exclusive framework of the

elegy. This is because conventional poetic criteria and the

old theories of prosody were exposed to severe criticism and

attempts at moulding or reshaping them so as to be in harmony

with the new literary trends and outlooks in the West which

were already leaving a noticeable impact on cultural develop­

ments in the Arab world in general. The Arab romanticists were

no doubt influenced by Western poetry, but one can at this

stage trace as well important indigenous influences, and par ­

ticularly in relation to the concept of death. The major in­

digenous influence which had an impact on romantic poetry in

this connection was the mystical poetry of the Muslim Sufis,

from whom the romanticists primarily learnt the longing of

the soul to attain perfection, to achieve total absorption in

the over-soul in the state of fanl* , or reunion with the

Infinite after departing the world of the senses and the

earthly body*.

* This assertion about Sufi thought being an indigenous influ­

ence, can be made despite the fact that the Islamic Sufi con­
cepts and ideals reflect a close kinship both with Eastern =
 ( 304 )

Besides Sufi influence there was, as already indicated, the

influence of the European romantic poets who imparted the n o ­

tion of the return to nature to the Arab romanticists. Observ­

ing the continuous cycle of life and death in nature, Arab r o ­

manticists like Gibran, Naimy and Shabbi started to view death

as a function of life. They believed that death is a prerequi­

site of life, and that the goodness of death consists in the

fact that it invariably maintains the continuity or perpetuity

of existence.

One should not, however, overlook the impact of Eastern

philosophy on the minds and thoughts of Gibran and Naimy. The

doctrine of reincarnation held a vital attraction to these two

authors, and they seem to have found in it a solution to the

mystery of death. They were mainly fascinated by the idea that

the soul, through successive stages of life and death, can

gradually cultivate its essence until it reaches the stage of

total enlightenment, or the status of Godhood.

However much this understanding of death among the romantic­

ists appears fanciful or ideal, it is the product of a period

dominated by romantic sentiment. It is the period in which the

individual began to regard himself as the pillar of existence,

and discovered the urgent need to express his own feelings,

philosophies and religious creeds such as Buddhism and Hinduism,

and Platonic and Neoplatonic ideas from Greek philosophy. It
could no doubt at the same time be claimed that some kinship is
easy to trace between the Arab romanticists view of the over­
soul, and similar views expressed by Western romanticists and
transcendentalists. But while the latter influences are discuss­
ed in the chapter on the romanticists (p.155 to l^L) above),
Platonist and Eastern influences on the Sufi movement in Islam
are outside the scope of this thesis.
 ( 305 )

dreams, fantasies, and above allto seek his own salvation

in order to escape the world of imperfection. No wonder that

death according to the romantic poets is regarded as an escape

from the misery of existence to a lofty and ideal realm of

perfection in which the soul finds its sublime spiritual ref­

uge. In brief, this understanding of death among the romantic­

ists betrays an attitude of unmistakable withdrawal from the

problems of everyday life towards the soft bed of dreams and

fantasies. In the world of dreams and fantasies, the romantic

poet escapes his pains and misery and sets out instead on his

own glorious road to salvation^ of which death seems to be

the culmination.

Inasmuch as the concept of self-salvation dominated the poet­

ic production of the romanticists when dealing with the con­

cept of death, the concern about the destiny of the whole of

society or nation dominated the outlook of the Tammuziyyun

poets whose works represent the third stage in the development

of the concept of death examined in this thesis. With the ap­

pearance of the Tammuziyyun poets between the fifties and the

seventies of this century, the consciousness of individuality

which was a characteristic mark of the romantic period, start­

ed to be subordinated to an increasing awareness of the prob­

lems of the Arab nation which was seen as being afflicted by

political and social strains and stresses, and threatened by

aspects of disunity and disintegration instead of aspects of

revival and progress. The role of the poet in this critical

 ( 306 )

period was identified with the role of a seer, who does not

lament over the condition of stagnation, but tries to foresee

a new rebirth or revival blossoming out of the decadence. The

subject of the death and revival of the Arab civilization gain

ed prominence and was invariably treated throughout the works

of the avant-garde poets of the period. The most useful motif

which lent itself admirably to such a subject was ancient myth

ology, and especially the myth of death and resurrection. Em­

ploying the various symbols and representations of this myth,

such as T a m m u z ,cIs htar, the phoenix, Christ., etc was an e m­

bodiment of an optimistic hope in the future, which it was

hoped, would follow an inevitable rebirth or revival. This

optimistic outlook finds its expression in the myth of death

and resurrection, or the inevitability of resurrection after

death.

This notion of the "fruitful death" or the death which pr e­

pares the way for a dignified rebirth also became the charac­

teristic motif of the Palestinian resistance poetry. The sym­

bol of Christ the Redeemer who sacrifices his life to realize

the salvation of others, was perhaps the most highly admired

and most forcefully expressed by the Palestinian poets.

This stage of mythological symbolism could be considered as

the last stage in the development of the concept of death in

modern Arabic poetry. It has found expression in various ways

outlined in the course of this work, and although this work

is an examination of Arabic poetry up to the seventies, what-

has been written in the last fifteen years cannot be said to

 ( 307 )

represent new ground or to transcend in any marked way what

the Tammuziyyun poets have achieved.

FOOTNOTES TO CONCLUSION

(1) Hudson, W.H, An Introduction to the Study of Literature,

London, 1930, p . 17, (Stud y)

(2) Arabic Lite ra tur e, Oxford, 1963, p.25

(3) St ud y , p .17

(4) As quoted by W.H. Hudson, I bi d , p . 18

(5) As Quoted by Hudson, See Ib i d , p. 19

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