This post is dedicated to Nominally Challenged, as promised, for providing inspiration.
Poetry banners on Rothschild Boulevard
For the third year in a row, the municipality of Tel Aviv has mounted Poetry for the Road (Hebrew link; doesn't work in Firefox). Excerpts from poems in Hebrew, Arabic and French have been emblazoned on colourful banners and suspended from the trees lining the city's boulevards; there are also miniature take-home versions in the form of postcards that have been distributed amongst the cafes. It's a creative, inexpensive and charming way to add a bit of culture to every day life, and I find myself stopping frequently to read, and remember the courses in Hebrew and Arabic literature (the latter in translation) I took at university. This year the members of the committee that chose the poems decided to expand the canon a bit by holding a contest for local poets; five winners received their moment of fame in banner and postcard form.
The Hebrew poets range from Yehuda Halevy, the Medieval Spanish-Jewish philosopher and physician whose influences included Arabic, Castillian and the Bible; to Chaim Nahman Bialik, the father of modern Hebrew poetry; to contemporaries like Nathan Zach, whose stunning autobiographical novella, Death of My Mother, was the first Hebrew book I read, many years ago, because I wanted to – and not because I was required to do so. I won't bore you by listing all the poets deemed canon-worthy by the committee, except to note that it was interesting to see they included Alexander Penn – handsome bad boy, heavy drinker, notorious womanizer and ardent Communist party member (Hebrew article about Penn, illustrated with an appropriately brooding photo, is here), who is a bit marginalized these days.
The Arab poets are a mixed bunch, with some obvious choices – like Palestinian Mahmoud Darwish, who is probably the most famous contemporary Arab poet. There is an interesting article about Darwish here. Apparently he supports a two-state solution, but resigned from the PLO Executive Council in 1993 because he thought the Oslo Accords were fatally flawed and would lead to an escalation of the conflict (hmmm. Poet and prophet, I guess). A few years ago, when he was Minister of Education, Yossi Sarid suggested that Darwish's poetry should be part of the Israeli high school curriculum. The esteemed members of the Knesset disagreed rather vehemently with Sarid, but it appears that the members of the Poetry for the Road committee took a higher road (sorry, sorry). I thought it was kind of funny that the banner with an excerpt from Darwish's poem Ana min hunak (I come from there) was hung on Sderot Ben Zion, or Children of Zion Boulevard. Irony intended? I wonder…
Excerpt from I am from there, by Mahmoud Darwish. Full text here.
I come from there and remember,
I was born like everyone is borne, I have a mother
and a house with many windows,
I have brothers, friends and a prison.
I have a wave that seagulls snatched away.
I have a view of my own and an extra blade of grass.
I have a moon past the peak of words.
I have the godsent food of birds and olive tree beyond the ken of time.
The Poetry for the Road committee also chose Arab poet Adunis (Ali Ahmad Said) a renowned Syrian-Lebanese poet who has been short-listed for the Nobel Prize in literature. Like Darwish, Adunis has had to deal with his share of political controversy: according to this Ynet article (Hebrew) he was heavily criticized, and banned by his literary peers in the Arab world, for speaking out publicly in favour of normalization between Israel and the Arab states after the signing of the Oslo Accords. The Nation published this article about Adunis in 2004.
Adonis poetry banner, Rothschild Boulevard
I couldn't find a translation of this poem online, and don't dare translate it myself. If anyone has a link in English, the comments section awaits your feedback.
Update: Egyptian blogger Zoss has translated the Adunis poem. He is braver than I, and he is talented too.
The child I used to be,
once
appeared to me,
a stranger.
He didn’t utter a word. We walked,
glancing at one another in silence. Our strides
a river running astray.
Oh, and there's a lighthearted video report about Poetry for the Road on Nana, here. It's in Hebrew only, but it should be fun to watch even if you don't understand what the reporter is saying (she takes the piss out of unsuspecting passersby by shoving a microphone in their faces and asking questions about poetry that they can't answer, but she also interviews poets and asks them questions like, “can you make a living from this?” Answer: No.).
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11 Comments so far (Add 1 more)
on September 2nd, 2010 at 8:19 pm
on September 2nd, 2010 at 8:19 pm
on September 2nd, 2010 at 8:19 pm
on September 2nd, 2010 at 8:19 pm
on September 2nd, 2010 at 8:19 pm
on September 2nd, 2010 at 8:19 pm
on September 2nd, 2010 at 8:19 pm
on September 2nd, 2010 at 8:19 pm
on September 2nd, 2010 at 8:19 pm
on September 2nd, 2010 at 8:19 pm
on September 2nd, 2010 at 8:19 pm