براوية

A Woman of Barawa¹

This is an imaginary story with no basis in fact. It is a challenge to one of the Arabic-language poets of Somalia, who had written an explicit poem. I wanted to prove to him that a poem can be written with the same meanings, but in a sheer garment and in words that expose nothing²:

1. A woman of Barawa swayed past with measured step,
   like palm and finger tapping on a tambourine³.
2. She glided like a phantom, proud in her coquettish grace,
   and my heart yearns for coquetry veiled modestly.
3. She steals a glance at us from the corner of her eye,
   and my heartbeats set every place reeling drunkenly.
4. She smiles at me until I fancy that
   a little moon has risen, in the loveliest rising, just for me.
5. Through the dusky red of her lips⁴ she disclosed a wonder:
   front teeth like chamomile flowers, the whitest there could be.
6. And cheeks like apples: I could not tell whether I
   longed to kiss the cheek, or pluck fruit from a laden tree.
7. And O, the splendour of her eyes! In them appear,
   rustling⁵, ships of love that sail on ardently.
8. The lover’s heart is captured by the beauty of her form,
   and her fragrance lures on every heart that loves to the point of agony.
9. So I took courage, and cast my restraint aside,
   and with a flick of my finger beckoned her secretly.
10. She came in answer, gently and lightly,
    with kindness in her bright, veiled face⁶, turned towards me.
11. I said to her: “Welcome, welcome, and welcome again⁷
    to her who stole my mind, my heart, my hearing, all from me,
12. to her who would not let me wake from the drunkenness she brings,
    but carried off my wits, astray and shaken utterly.”
13. She said: “Be easy, calm yourself; for, as I see,
    your words go nowhere but straight into my ear.
14. But I have no power over love and all its madness,
    nor over the scalding tears that are yet to be,
15. nor strength to bear the parting that would melt me away
    and kindle the fire of passion between my ribs,
16. and rob me for a while of all the sweetness of my rest,
    and wake my thoughts whenever I lie down to sleep.”
17. I said: “Peace be with you⁸, lady of charms and good sense!
    God has decreed this in my heart, so don’t hold back from me.
18. Is this the hospitality⁹ you give a guest who came love-struck?
    Did you mean to test me, or to have me plead on bended knee?
19. You turn me from the watering-place of beauty and of love,
    while my heart is thirsting, and your love’s the spring for me.”
20. And I asked her: “What harm would it do you, if I
    loved you, or if you answered me without excuse or plea?”
21. She answered proudly, when her lips had parted in a smile:
    “And can a soul find rest, unless it’s pampered¹⁰ tenderly?
22. So let me, then, indulge my vanity a while:
    court me, and wake the feeling in my heart, and set it burning.
23. Do not deprive me of your talk, delightful as it is;
    do not be shy with me, and spare me your propriety.
24. For love, to a maiden such as me, is nothing but wishes
    that clasp her sides, and dreams upon her bed.
25. And what are longing, whispering, murmuring and pining,
    sleeplessness and brooding, but my eager curiosity?
26. Come to my house and drink our tea,
    and let us grow drunk on whispers, lawful and mint-sweet¹¹.
27. Let us taste a few moments of happiness and joy,
    moments of intimacy, in a sweet haven, carefree.”
28. I said to her: “Let’s go!” and took her hand;
    it was as if we walked above the clouds, lost in a reverie.
29. And when, after eager haste, we reached her house,
    I was seized with awe, and asked: where’s the restraint I had in me?
30. Piety nails me to the spot, and desire drives me on¹²:
    oh, for my heart, so scattered and so torn!
31. I knew no more, until I found I had passed through her door,
    and scents from every corner came to embrace me.
32. She said: “Just wait a little, for I’ll bring to you
    sweets, and cakes as well, a whole variety.”
33. I said to her: “My patience is fast running out;
    I’ll go off in a huff, unless you hurry back to me!”
34. She sways away coquettishly, with the weight of her hips,
    the swell of her breasts, and her gait in its flowing beauty.
35. And she came back with tea, then sweets, and a cake,
    and said: “My love, enjoy yourself; please, feel free!”
36. I said to her: “It’s rapture and delight enough for me
    to meet you, sweetest of desires and of coquetry!”
37. I reached my right hand out to sip her tea;
    she said: “Careful! The tea is hot, as hot as my tears.”
38. I said to her: “My heart is hotter, my dear,
    than this tea, and there is no pretence in me.”
39. I tasted her sweets, and followed them with a piece
    of cake: how sweet, once cut, it proved to be¹³!
40. She eats with me from what I taste, and craves
    still more of its delights, unreservedly.
41. She went on whispering her sweet talk to me,
    and we sipped the cup of love in the finest of chambers,
42. until we’d drunk our fill, and slaked our thirst for love,
    and the cups of union circled round, unrefused, and free.
43. Then I rose, my soul unwilling to part from her,
    dragging steps that did not know where they would be.
44. I bade her farewell, my heart set ablaze by passion;
    to me, the fiercest love is the love of one who’s taking leave¹⁴.
45. She bids me farewell, her eyes in tears, her heart in sorrow,
    saying: “Farewell, you who stirred such ardour up in me!”

Mogadishu, 28 July 1989

English translation prepared by artificial intelligence and reviewed against the Arabic for accuracy of meaning and rhetoric.