A landay is a folk couplet that
may rhyme, but usually does not. It would have nine syllables in the first line
and thirteen in the second. I have only read in translation from Pashtun so I
won’t get the strict syllable count or the effect of them usually ending with
either the sound na or ma. I do however read them as couplets
and can appreciate the content and history of their circulation. These are
women’s poems but women have not traditionally been able to gather in the
traditional areas, except for family events such as weddings. The poems were
repeated so they have a long oral tradition. They are also a bit, shall we say,
on the naughty side since they were recited only by women to women for their own
enjoyment. Because the oral tradition includes a type of reporting, they also
include stories of war and how it effects girls, women, and their families.
These three examples are all
from I Am the Beggar of the World:
In my dream, I am
the president.
When I awake, I am
the beggar of the world
My lover is fair as
an American soldier can be
To him I looked dark
as a talib, so he murdered me.
You sold me to an old
man, father.
May god destroy your
home; I was your daughter.
The poems go through updates to
keep pace with occupying forces. The ones that mention Americans now used to be
sung about the British or the Russians.
In the book Songs of Love and
War we get even more of the poetry slant that women might joke about,
chastising their lovers, but only among themselves. The poems frequently address
fathers, lovers, and soldiers even though they are recited among the women.
May
God prohibit you from any pleasure as you travel
Since
you left me while I, as yet unsatisfied, was sleeping.
In
secret I burn, in secret I weep,
I
am the Pashtun woman who can’t unveil her lover.
You would be a heap
of ashes instantly
If I threw you my
intoxicated look.
Last night I had a
dream that has come true:
My timid lover took
me in his arms in the bright light of day.
I do wonder what these poems
would sound like to me if I were able to hear and understand them recited in
their local setting with native speakers. I’m reminded I once heard in a poetry
class that early translations of haiku into English were made to rhyme, so that
leaves me mindful that what I’m reading may be interpreted for some sense of
English language expectation or correctness. Still my experience of
appreciating the landays has continued to open up a burgeoning interest in the
so called world poetry. While browsing in my local bookstore (Gulf of Maine
Books, Brunswick, Maine) I happened on a book of Eritrean poetry. The title
poem, the one that caused me to buy the book, is an example of finding a truth
that seems universal even as it is expressed in an unfamiliar setting. It is by
the poet Ghirmai Yohannes and it appears in the book in both English and
Tigrinya.
Who Needs a Story?
I needed a story
And asked myself all
day –
What can I write?
It kept me awake all
night –
What do I have to
say?
I emptied so many
words
And Idea out of my
brain
It would have
floated away
If not tied to my
heart.
Now I needed art.
Paper and pen in
hand,
Tomorrow I would
start . . .
But wait.
What is it all
about?
Do I really need a
story?
All this time and
hard work –
For what?
I hate myself for
thinking this.
I already have a
story
That nobody knows
and it’s great –
I am the story.
Poetry is everywhere. I enjoy
exploring new and old poetic styles in places new to me even as I continue to
work with the western traditions. The thought of an ancient form passed orally
among women speaking Pashtun, but now often done by cell phone, is an example
of how poetry continues. As it does so, I want to be a part of it by both
appreciating and contributing.
I Am the
Beggar of the World: Landays from Contemporary Afghanistan
Translated
by Eliza Griswold, Photographs by Seamus Murphy
Songs of
Love and War: Afghan Women’s Poetry
Edited by
Sayd Bahodine Majrouh, translated by Marjolijn De Jager
Who Needs
a Story? Contemporary Eritrean Poetry in Tigrinya, Tigre, and Arabic
Edited by
Charles Cantalupo and Ghirmai Negash
