Translator’s Note
The young Saudi poet Muhammad Al-Turki mourns the great Saudi poet Badr Bin Abdulmohsin Al-Bader, who passed away on May 4, 2024, in a poem titled “Now You Are All of Us.” The suggestive title captures a spirit of reuniting with Al-Bader’s poetry after his passing, a moment that mirrors the experiences of the grieving reader, who recalls the riveting lines of their beloved poet’s work. No other words seem sufficient to express this grief — a testimony to the decades of sentimental education during which Al-Bader guided his readers not only in coping with the flow of human emotions but also in recognizing, describing, and expressing the experience of falling in and out of love and the sorrow of loss.
Muhammad Al-Turki astutely performs the relationship with Al-Bader, who taught the young poet’s generation the language of new poetics. At the same time, he shows that there are no words to mourn Al-Bader except to recall, echo, and weave in titles of his unforgettable lyrics and memorable phrases. “Now You Are All of Us” is a tribute to Al-Bader’s remarkable poetic influence and lasting recollection. In translating this poem, I italicized the borrowed titles and phrases to restage the citationality that’s part of the mourning process, creating a layered palimpsest. -MAG
Now You Are All of Us
By Muhammad Al-Turki
Translated by Moneera Al-Ghadeer
Don’t be sorry
Love taught us silence
And lovers chose
To separate in melody
The pain of the train
That passes between them
And I became like the rest
Awaiting another voyage to metaphor’s gate
An echo of the Traveler
Who was tempted by a detour in the road
You left us
In the morning
And you closed the poem
And the curtain
I began to hear in the distance
“Oh, the loss of our voices.”
Now, who will take Riyadh by the hand?
I found her shadows
A dawn on the tips of his toes
Trying to see you there
In the darkness of day
Don’t be sorry for anything
O you who is etched in our voices
This is the Time of Silence
We are wary of news that confirms
Al-Bader’s final trip
And hopes within the departure halls
Look out from the waiting void
We will linger in the poems
Reading The Bedouin
Who casts to the wind
Suitcases of meaning
If a girl in the neighborhood left the music hall
She came to take her letters
And leaves a strand of her braids, escaping rhythm
A bit of her braid
To blur the decision
Take us all by the stream:
Water on the surface of metaphor
Features engraved by the letter
So drink it
To find in its quelling of thirst
The taste of home
We will live in the anticipation of love
Which bursts from her phone numbers
When she starts a call
Then returns
In worry
As the oud tightens its strings
And weeps from the pain of “Al-Bayat”[1]
Until windows respond and rearrange the wall
Now you are all of us
Al-Bader dwells in every song
Rises from the imagination of the captive poet
Inside his nightly cup
When it’s struck by meaning
It eludes every rhyme
And refuses to be turned
الآن صرتَ جميعَنا
لا تعتذرْ..
فالحبّ علّمنا السكوتَ
وآثر العشّاقُ
أن يتفرقوا في اللحن
يعبرُ بينهم وجعُ القطارْ..
وغدوتُ كالباقين
أرقبُ رحلةً أخرى على باب المجازِ
صدى قريبًا للمسافر
حين يغريه انحرافٌ في المسارْ..
غادرتنا
صبحًا..
وأغلقتَ القصيدة
والستارْ..
وطفقتُ أسمعُ من بعيدٍ
“يا ضياع اصواتنا”
من يمسك الآن الرياض بكفّها
فلقد وجدت ظلالها
فجرًا على أطرافِ رجليه
يحاول أن يراكَ هناكَ
في عتَم النهارْ
لا تعتذر عن كلّ شيءٍ
أيها المكتوبُ في أصواتنا
هذا زمانُ الصمتِ
نحذر فيه من خبر يؤكِّدُ
رحلةَ البدر الأخيرة
والأماني بين صالات الرحيلِ
تطلّ من ثقُْب انتظارْ..
سنظلّ ما بين القصائدِ
نقرأ البدويَّ
يلقي في الرياحِ
حقائبَ المعنى
إذا ما طفلةٌ في الحيّ قد خرجت من المغنى
“وجت تاخذ رسايلها”
وتترك خصلةً هربت من الإيقاعِ
شيئًا من ضفيرتها
ليرتبكَ القرارْ..
خذنا جميعًا للغديرِ
الماءُ في سطح المجازِ
ملامحٌ منقوشة بالحرفِ
فاشربها
تجدْ في ريّها
طعمَ الديارْ..
سنعيشُ ما بين الترقبِ لاندلاع العشقِ
في أرقام هاتفها وقد وصلت لمنتصف اتصالٍ ثمّ عادت..
في التوتّرِ
إذ يشدّ العودُ من أوتارِه
ويصيحُ من وجع “البياتِ”
لتستجيبَ نوافذٌ وتعيدَ ترتيب الجدارْ..
الآن صرتَ جميعنا
فالبدر يسكن كلَّ أغنيةٍ
ويطلع من خيال الشاعر المسجون
في فنجانه الليليِّ
حين يصيبه معنى
يراوغ كل قافيةٍ
ويرفض أن يُدارْ
Muhammad Al Turki Born in Riyadh in 1983. He holds a B.A. in Arabic from Imam Muhammad bin Saud Islamic University, as well as a diploma in preparing broadcasters from King Saud University. He has published four poetry collections and won Muʿallaqā poetry competition in 2024 and the Okaz International Prize for Arabic Poetry in 2017. He has participated in a variety of local and international cultural events and presented a number of poetry readings. He is a well-known broadcaster at the Saudi Radio and Television Authority as well as a content creator.
Moneera Al-Ghadeer was a Visiting Professor of comparative literature in the Department of Middle Eastern, South Asian, and African Studies at Columbia University and was a Shawwaf Visiting Professor at Harvard University. She was a tenured Professor at the University of Wisconsin-Madison and received her Ph.D. from the University of California, Berkeley. She has published Desert Voices: Bedouin Women’s Poetry in Saudi Arabia (I.B. Tauris, 2009) as well as many articles, book chapters, and translations, including Badr Bin Abdulmohsin’s five poetry collections.
[1] Al-Bayat maqam is one of the Arabic music melodic scales and cannot be played by Western instruments. It is played in love songs and characterized by a sorrowful tone.