Labid and Bassam 'Alwani

It is strange how life offers you unexpected rewards when you least expect them. Furthermore, a discovery of a piece of music, a work of art, a book, or a poem, when one is least expecting it to happen, creates a serendipitous effect that multiplies the pleasure factor ten folds.

Twice last week, my routine political activities ended up with a surprise poetical discovery, and twice I was bemused by how life has many strange twists.

Last week, I was visited at my office in the embassy by Professor William Polk, whom I have never known personally before. Professor Polk comes from a prominent American family with a long tradition in politics and the military. Polk is a professor of history and a writer who has authored a large number of books and articles on U.S. foreign policy with special focus on the Middle East. He has co-authored his last book Out of Iraq with former U.S. senator George McGovern.

While we were having a good discussion of politics in the U.S., he casually mentioned that more than thirty years ago he had published a translation of Labid’s poetry. I expressed my curiosity about the book before resuming our political discussion. Days later, I received from Professor Polk a magnificent present: a visually stunning book of poetry: The Golden Ode.

      

This extra ordinary volume provides a translation of one of the greatest pre-Islamic Arabic poems (known as muallaqua – or hanged poem) together with photographs of a number of striking desert scenes depicting some of the sights and suggesting some of the feelings and concerns of the ancient nomadic poet, Labid Ibn Rabiah.

Each page of the volume contains one verse by Labid written in splendid golden calligraphic script with a literal English translation, accompanied by a text commenting on the line of poetry, illuminating it, and elaborating on its inner meaning. Next to each line of poetry is a photograph taken during a camel safari, which led Professor Polk and his photographer-companion through the desert of Arabia where Labid lived, in an attempt to capture the mood presented in each verse.

      

Thanks to Professor Polk, I found myself re-reading and struggling anew with the extremely difficult language of Labid, who lived around 600 A.D. but the pleasure I obtained from this rediscovery of one of the golden muallquat was unsurpassed.

A week later, I gave a speech at the World Affairs Council at the National Press Club in Washington. After the remarks and the Q&A session that totally focused on the situation in the Middle East, a young lady approached me, handed me over a large envelop and asked my politely to have a look at her ‘research work’ whenever my time permits.

While driven back home by the end of the evening, I immediately engaged myself in reading the treatise written by Katrien Vanpee, a researcher at the Arabic and Islamic Studies department of the University of Georgetown. Katrien had previously spent a year in Qatar where she became acquainted with a Syrian poet hitherto unknown to me, Bassam 'Alwani. The treatise she gave me was actually an excellent study of his poetry, style, imagery, vocabulary, and most importantly, the poetic ‘obscurity’ in his work.

Bassam 'Alwani, who was born in Hama, lives presently in Qatar where he teaches Arabic and writes poetry. He has already published four volumes of poetry. In 2005 Bassam 'Alwani took part in the foundation of Qalaq (angst) a poetry group that holds meetings in which members read poetry written by themselves and by prominent Arab poets.

In her concluding remarks, Ketrien Vanpee states that one of the goals of her study was to attract attention to the work of this exceptionally gifted poet, declaring that she would be happy if her work would stir some interest in his writings: “While I have enjoyed my many hours with his volumes, my efforts will feel more worthwhile if the enjoyment reaches more lovers of poetry and of the Arabic language, which many people believe to be a poetic language par excellence.”

I can assure Katrien that, as far as I am concerned, she has been completely successful in intriguing me and arousing my curiosity about this Syrian poet, and has made me determined to read his work at the earliest possible opportunity.