Two Poems by Mahbouba Ibrahimi, translated and introduced by Parwana Fayyaz
PN Review 280, November - December 2024
Translator’s note: Mahbouba Ibrahimi is an Afghan poet currently residing in Sweden. Born in 1977 in the province of Kandahar, her poetry reflects Afghanistan’s recent history and the suffering of the Afghan people on a global scale. She writes primarily in Persian (Dari), with her latest poetry collection being published just a month before the fall of Kabul in August 2021.
In the following four poems, Mahbouba intertwines contemporary events with the ancient history that has shaped the land now known as Afghanistan. The first poem, ‘I used to think…’, emerges from a personal and private space, expressing the poet’s sense of losing belief in things that once held deep meaning for her: love, religion and her homeland. Here, the poet recounts how she fled this homeland, leaving behind the love and religion she once believed could save her.
Mahbouba’s poem ‘From the eyes of a woman’ still sends shivers down my spine. I cannot recall reading a poem like this in a very long time. It is powerful and resonates with profound truth, particularly when, through the eyes of an Afghan woman, the world is seen as both terrifying and yet filled with courage and resilience.
The poems ‘Neither Allahuddin, the world-burner’ and ‘Hug me’ explore the intricacies of history, engaging with historical figures – powerful men who have conquered the land of Afghanistan over the centuries. This land, ironically left as a ‘treasure’ to our poet, a woman, is the one she promises to return to only when the war ends. Yet, Even then, she pleads with the same homeland to offer her comfort and peace, imploring that even God does not yet know how to provide.
I used to think
I used to think
the fragrant lips of love
the strong arms of religion
and the warm embrace of motherland
would forever save me
now I’m grateful to love
to have found a better prey
for it has lifted its teeth from my throat
allowing me to breathe in
the scent of pines
no matter how much I struggled
I couldn’t find a place in the arms of religion
the harem-house was massive
I was wild and I could not
flirt my way
to stand there, waiting
I was afraid of being stoned
so I ran away
my homeland
yet still is where my mother is
she sold her wedding
gold-ring
for me
she bought plane tickets
so I could go faraway
and stay alive
one day
without love
without religion
just for the memory
of my mother
I will return
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From the eyes of a woman
From the eyes of a woman
a deer
was watching you
fearful and innocent
she didn’t know how to run away
nor how to remain in a trap
instead
she roamed across the room
and broke everything into pieces
Through the eyes of a woman
a leopard
was looking at you
she was in love
but the beloved didn’t know
instead
she threw her claws to your dirty shirts
From the eyes of a woman
a hedgehog
was looking toward you
every time she lapsed inside herself
she didn’t know
she was scratching other’s hands and feet
That woman
took up the thread and needle
and sewed up
her eyes
Through the eyes of a woman
two small streams flow
one day they will slowly drown your world
These poems by Mahbouba Ibrahimi, translated and introduced by Parwana Fayyaz, are taken from PN Review 280, November - December 2024. Further contributions from Ibrahimi and Fayyaz, including the rest of the poems in this issue, are available in the archive to paying subscribers, as well as more poetry, features, reviews and reports from across the back catalogue.
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