My New Translation of “The Visa” Poem by Hisham Al-Gokh
Hisham al-Gokh gave a stunning live performance of this poem – see here. When this poem first came out, several years ago, it captured my attention with its simplicity and its brave criticism. He points the finger of blame at authorities in the Arab region, but there is also a note of self-criticism.
It’s time to post a new translation of this poem now because this is a powerful poem about tackling problems in one’s own society, owning up to the failure of childhood dreams and empty ideologies, and giving voice to the dreams that live on and provide hope for a better future for all.
Below is my translation in English. You can contact me for the Arabic original or find it online somewhere such as here. I don’t normally post the translations I make in the course of work for clients (in this case, creating a bilingual Arabic/English literary corpus for a US college), but I’m making an exception because this is such a timely poem. Enjoy!
The Visa
Hisham al-Gokh, Translated by Melanie Magidow
I praise your name, God, Allahu
I fear none but you
I know I have a fate that I will meet—we will meet
As a child, I was taught that it was my honor to have Arab identity
My pride and my dignity
At school, we sometimes chanted a melody
For example, we would sing:
All Arab countries are my homeland—All Arabs are my family[MM1]
We drew Arabs, their heads held high,
Their chests breaking the roaring wind. Dressed in robes, respectably.
We were just kids, emotions running high
We ran wild with stories of our Arab bravery
And how our lands stretched endlessly[MM2]
And how our wars were for the sake of the Aqsa Mosque so holy[MM3]
And how the Zionists, devils with tails, were our enemy
And how the armies of our nation, like a flood, were rising[MM4]
I’m going to sail when I grow up!
I’ll pass by Bahrain’s beach in Libya
And enjoy dates from Baghdad in Syria
And cross from Mauritania to Sudan
And travel from Mogadishu to Lebanon
In my heart and soul, I tucked those songs away
All Arab countries are my homeland—All Arabs are my family
But when I grew up, I got no visa
I did not sail
I was stopped at the window for an unstamped passport
I did not cross
When I grew up,
I did not sail or cross the border
I grew up, but that child did not
Our childhood rankles us
Ideas, the principles of which we learned from you,
The rulers of our Arab World
Our childhood torments us
Did you not run the schools where we grew up?
We learned your curriculums
Did you not teach us
That the sly fox awaits, and will eat the fool’s sheep if he slumbers?
Did you not teach us
That sticks are protected when bundled, but weak when separated?
Why does senseless division rule us?
Did you not teach us: Hold fast to faith in God, and be not divided among yourselves[MM5] ?
Why do you block out the sun with your flags?
You have divided up our Arab identity among yourselves, like we’re a bunch of cattle!
The child within me opposes you. Opposes you.
We were divided by your hands—may your hands perish[MM6] !
I am Arab—I’m not ashamed
I was born in green Tunisia, of Omani ancestry[MM7]
I am more than 1,000 years old, yet my mother continues to conceive
I am Arab—I own palm trees in Baghdad and my veins run through Sudan
I am Egyptian, from Mauritania, and Djibouti, and Amman
Christian, Sunni, Shi‘i, Kurd, Druze, and ‘Alawi
I don’t memorize the names of leaders because they come and go
We are sick of being scattered when everyone else is uniting
You filled our religion with lies, manipulations, and made-up stories,
Did God bring us together, only for FIFA to divide us?
We have abandoned our religion, regressing into barbarity[MM8]
We trust the ignorant among us—We look to fools for a way out
Rulers of our community, the child within me opposes you. Judges you…
Declaring our Arab people united:
Sudan is not split
Nor are the Golan Heights occupied
Nor is Lebanon broken, treating its wounds alone
He gathers pearls from our Arabian Gulf and plants them in Sudan,
From their seeds will grow wheat in the Arab Maghrib[MM9]
The people will press olive oil in resilient Palestine
The people of Somalia will drink as much as they want, forever
From our Algeria, he will light unwavering torches
If Sanaa raises a complaint, all our countries are as Yemen
He will escape from your robe—may God protect it—to the public, burning with passion
He is the public—not you
He is the authorities—not you
Do your armies hear me?
Do the offices of the institutions in your government hear me?
He is the authorities—not you—I fear none of you
He is Islam—not you—enough of your swindling
Or he’ll leave
Be afraid! This is a patient people
But if the camel is slaughtered, you will have neither its milk nor its calf
I will remain, and my principles will remain
We have been served barrels of injustice
We have been served invocations of ignorance
We have grown tired of this drink and of those who serve it
I warn you! We will remain, despite your conflicts, for this is a united people
Your bonds, while they weaken, God’s remains steadfast
I will grow up, leaving for the child my brush and paints
He will remain to paint Arabs, their heads held high,
And the sound of my songs will remain
All Arab countries are my homeland—All Arabs are my family
[MM1]Literally: ‘my brothers,’ replaced here with ‘my family’ for the rhyme
[MM2]More literally: ‘from one far end to the other’
[MM3]“so holy” added for the rhyme
[MM4] [MM4]Umma: Here translated as ‘nation,’ it also means ‘the Muslim community’ and can be interpreted in this poem to mean ‘the Arab community’
[MM5]Quran 3:103a
[MM6]A reference to Quran 111:1
[MM7]Tunis al-khadra’: ‘Green Tunisia’ is a common nickname for Tunisia, similar to “Maine the Pine Tree State.”
[MM8]Or: We have returned to being Aws (see https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Banu_Aws ) and Khazraj (see https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Banu_Khazraj )
[MM9]Maghrib: Means ‘Morocco’ and also refers to the westernmost region of the Arab World (including Morocco Algeria, Tunisia, Libya, and Mauritania)
