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Sabahudin Hadžialić, MSc 

Sarajevo & Bugojno, 
               Bosnia and Herzegovina        
        

MI OBJEDINJUJEMO RAZLIČITOSTI...
WE ARE UNIFYING DIVERSITIES
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Muniam Alfaker, Baghdad, Iraq


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 Muniam Alfaker

Poet and writer.

I fled because of the dictatorship in Iraq, first to Morocco, later to Lebanon. I lived in Beirut from 1978-82. I wrote my first poems in Lebanon.

In 1982 I moved to Damascus, in Syria, where the first collection of poems, “Far away from them” was published in 1983. A second collection “The different” was edited in 1986.

In 1986 I came to Denmark as a refugee. My collection of poems “Fleeing cloud “ was edited in 1988.





About my writings.

Books edited in Denmark.

Poetry.

Sky på flugt (Fleeing cloud)            1988
Skrig er sjælens heste  (Scream is horses of the soul)  1990
Spor på vand (Traces on water)       1991
Klæder uden krop (Clothes without body) 1995  (The book was awarded the same year by the States’ Art foundation) Sammen (Together)                          1998
Visionens bog (The book of vision)  2001

Novel:

My first novel “Mindernes trapez” (The trapeze of memories) was published by Tiderne Skifter  the 15.9.2007. Excellent reviews can be read in Politiken 17.9.07, in Jyllandsposten 18.9.07, Berlingske Tidende 22.7.07 , and Weekend-Avisen 28.9.07. The novel’s Arabic title is “Café Marrakesh” and was published 30.10.07 by Almaktab Almasri lelketab in Cairo. The novel is translated into French by Touria Ikbal.
The Danish translation is by Sejer Andersen, MA in French literature.

Drama and prose.

Barndommens kupé (The compartment of childhood)  written in cooperation with Marianne Larsen and was staged in 1994, in Fiolteatret, and appeared also as a story published by Politisk Revy in 1994.

Anthologies.

Kærlighedskort (Postcards of love), 55 love poems by 55 Danish poets, published by Politisk Revy, 2000. An anthology with translation of poems by 50 Danish poets is underway in collaboration with  librarian May Tchelebi. The first volume have been published by the Egyptian Ministry of Culture in 2008.

My poems are represented in various Danish and foreign anthologies. Here are some of the titles:

Litteratur uden grænser (Literature without borders)
Læs højt historier (Read aloud stories)
Brøndums Encyclopædi (Brøndum’s Encyclopedia)
Digtere fra det 20. århundrede (Poets from the 20.th Century)
Dansklærerforeningens antologi
Fuglevingen (The bird’s wing)
Himlen er min hat (The sky is my hat)
Kunst for livet  (Art for life)
Mellem land og land (Between land and land)
Håndbog om indvandrere og flygtninge (Handbook about immigrants and refugees)
Digt om kærlighed (Love poem)
Digt om dagen (Poem at daytime)
Digt om natten (Poem at nighttime)

Translations.

Editor for Assununu Magazine 1991 ‘An hour about Danish Poetry in Arabic’.
A selection of Danish poets in “Akhbar al-Adab”, Cairo 2002.
Currently working on an anthology of modern Danish poetry covering from 1870-2007.
50 poets will be presented for the first time in Arabic.

Biography.

Universal Errors, Muniam Alfaker, editor: Ezzat Ghazzawi. The Ogarit Cultural Center and
Palestinian Writer’s Union, Ramallah, Palestine 2001.


Books appeared in foreign countries.

The collection of poems “Sky på flugt”.
French edition: Nuage sur le départ. Paris, L´Harmattan, 1993.
Norwegian edition : Sky på flukt. Oslo, Ashehoug, 1994.
”Visionens bog”. Norwegian edition, Ashehoug, 2001.
The collection of poems : Retraite d’ún Coeur. Paris, l´Harmattan, 1999.
2.edition: ACM, Marrakesh, 1999.
The collection of poems” Nadiran”. Frenhch edition: ACM, Casablanca, 2001.
Arabic edition: Raslan Publishing Group, Damascus 2000.
Collections of poems published in Cairo.
al-Law’at al-arba’ (The 4 sufferings) 1994.
Hawas khasirah (Lost senses), 1995.
Akhiran (Finally), 2001.
Ra’yi al-‘ayn (The eye’s opinion), 2006.

For the time being a complete edition of my poems is underway.
Collection of poems published in Bagdad.
Ra’yi al-‘ayn (The eye’s opinion), 2005.

Poems published in Casablanca.

Kitab al-ru’ya (The book of vision), 1997


Literary prizes.

Has received several literary prizes, for instance The Danish Library Association’s literary prize in 1995, and Danish Help for Refugee’s  artist of honour in 2003. Grants from the Danish State’s Fund for art, in 1990-99, 2002, 2003, and 2004.

Chairman for Assununu Association.

Project manager

Since 1992, Assununu has created many poetry events, festivals and exchanges,
which have been very successful.

     In Denmark:

      -     1996 Danish-Egyptian Cultural Week 23.-30. September, in Copenhagen.
      -     1997 Arabic-Danish women’s festival  (29. September- 7. October), with the
                     participation of 22 women artists from several Arabic countries in Copenhagen.
-          1999 Danish-Arabic festival of culture (6. -13. September) in Copenhagen.
-          2000 Danish-Arabic festival of culture. Danes and Arabs. Pictures, words and sound.
-          2001 Danish-Arabic festival of culture. War, peace, tolerance or hate. (23-30. September), in Copenhagen.
-    2005 Danish-Iraqi festival of culture, attended by the Iraqi vice-minister of culture.

In the Middle-East:

-    1996 A conference in cooperation with the Egyptian Ministry of Culture 15-17 of May.
              Presentation of Danish poets and writers at the Opera in Cairo.
-    2002 Danish-Egyptian days of culture 9.-16. December, with Danish and Egyptian poets,
              writers and actors, performing in different cultural institutions in Cairo.
-   2004 Danish-Syrian days of culture 5.-12. October with the participation of poets, writers, a children’s author, a librarian, and two actors.


These events have had a broad media coverage in the Arabic countries with reports and interviews in TV, radio and newspapers. All these events have only been made possible by the support from the Literature Committee, The Danish Writer’s Union, CKU, the Municipality of Frederiksberg, and the different countries Ministries of Culture. Furthermore I have been invited to a large number of conferences of poetry in many countries of the Middle East. There has been a large attention from the medias, and I have had meetings with the ministers of culture in Tunisia, Egypt, Syria, and Iraq.



                 Svijest neumitnog nestanka

Unutar vlastite opstojnosti, suočen sa čudnim nagovještajima višeslojnih treperećih, nestašnih pokušaja odgađanja kraja, ponovo se rađa. 

U boli bića koje živjeti traži. I kada nestanku teži. U sebi. Pjesnik Muniam Alfaker, upravo "kao oblak u letu" rasipanjem stapanje traži. 

Čovjeka? Pjesme? Čovječanstva? 

Svega navedenog. 

Upravo i jedino zbog sebe. Obogaćen sviješću neumitnog nestanka. Ne samo svoga.


Riječ urednika

Mr. sc. Sabahudin Hadžialić
5.2.2014.
   Awareness of the implacable disappearance 

Within its own survival, faced with the strange hints of the multilayer flashing, mischievous attempts of delaying of the end, he is born again. 



Within the pain of the being that seeks to live. Even when seeks for the disappearance. In himself. Poet Muniam Alfaker, just "like a cloud in flight", through the wastefulness earch for merging. 

Of human? Poems? Mankind? 

All of the above. 


Just and only for himself. Enriched with the awareness of the imlacable disappearance. Not just of his own.


Editor's word

Sabahudin Hadzialic, MSc.

5.2.2014.

28.4.2014.
Promocija zbirke pjesama "Neočekivana radost" Muniama Alfakera u izdanju Književnog kluba iz Brčkog. Promocija je održana na Sajmu knjige u Skenderiji (26.4.2014.), Sarajevo, Bosna i Herecgovina a knjigu je predstavio autor, irački pjesnik, prevoditeljica Milena Rudež i Žarko Milenić, kao urednik. 
Fotografije: Lidija Pavlović-Grgić.


“A cloud in flight”

Contents
l      Iraq in stillness
ll     Visions on water
lll    The night in stillness
IV   Otherness

      





l. Iraq in stillness

 

To build a home

One day i shall
Take a bit of sand,
Take a few herbs.
Take a little water
And thousands of kilometers of barbed wire.
This is how I shall make myself a home.
Shall i call it “Iraq”?



Soldier

He was not so soft
That he could be bended,
He was not so tough
That he could be broken.
He floated around
In his empty loneliness.
During his first leave
He came home by bus.
On his third leave
He came in a box.
...
You cannot make
My mouth into
A prison cell,
Where my tongue
Is locked up
For a lifetime
...
How many times
have i put on trousers
that were not mine.
and shirts
that were not mine.
How many times
have I wandered on streets
that were not my streets
and lived through days
that were not my days. 



Pain

Had the pain been
white
we would have painted the houses
and decorated the livingrooms
with it.
But since the pain was black
we put it away
in the lowermost drawers
of the heart.

 


Fall

His body was wagon
his feet the horse.
The wagen rolls
And the horse succumbs.




A mother`s sleep

The sun has left us all withered
the moon slumbers at he rooftop.
My beloved has yet to comb
her hair.
I have not shaved myself.
My beloved mother
still sleeps.



Grandfather

the sun                                          the sun                                  
climps up to                                 climbs up to
the sky                                         the sky

the short hedge                           the short hedge
casts a low shadow                    casts a low shadow

on the chair                                on the chair
sits my grand                             dust  



A family

In the morning:

a cup of coffee
partaken between the cheese and olives
The breakfast table is enriched
                                       by their hands.
When the father was about to go,
the boy asked for some chocolate,
the mother asked for a kiss,
and the father said: “I`ll come home
tonight”

That night:
The boy sits out in the porch,
the mother is in the kitchen,
father is in the morgue.


A cloud

Amidst this heat wave
a cloud, on flight, alighted
from its own sky.
It bored trough the vertebra of the afternoon`s hour of rest.
Then my mother cried.

Childhood

On the way to the farmyard
my childhood rains down
upon me.

The earth absorbs it all up.





The house

The house does not take a stroll along the garden
nor does it go the cinema,
but it
sleeps
with all its furnishings
within me
in order to break
my spirit



II. Visions on water

Visions on water

Should you place
All mirrors behind in the darkness,
and the paint all glassworks
black,
and you banish all combs
to their deaths,
and forbid eyes
to see other eyes,
and take away the vision
on the water
wouldn't the face
rebel,
and the hair resist?



Salima

Against the cold,
she brings forth fire

in the heat
she comes with ice

in the sorrow
she comes alone,

And the joy,
she shares with all of us.



The wait


When he had waited
One hour, two hours
and she had`nt yet turned up,
He gently put his cheek
Towards the bench and said,
“Bench, do we see each other again
Tomorrow, same place?”
...
And the lock said to the key
(which had been turned twice around):
You are useless without me!
And the key replied:
Same to you! 
...
All your sounds
will not transform you
Into a perceptible word.
I have loved you
In silence.



Reiteration

I reiterate myself
at the table,
and say what I have said
yersterday.
I have only a broken pencil
and some paper,
refugees from the routine that
imprisons.



A key

For 30 years
I have searched for a key
Of gold,
Of silver,
Even of plastic,
To all the closed door inside of me.



Gladness

Me feet!
Walk ahead of me!
While i linger
behind just a little
To cast away
the heart`s old fears. 
... 
In the desert of love
your heart
will lead you to my well.
You shall drink
the darkness.


Stillness

A clearing
silently lifts up the curtains
and lets the light in
... into stillness
...
...
Stillness
is the conversation of objects.


Liaison

Breeze,
with your soft scarf
You dried away my tears away
and lulled me to sleep.

Breeze,
for your sake
I threw me doors ajar
and opened all my windows.

Breeze,
please do not stuff away my candles.
...
I know now:
It was in the garden that i left behind
my hands`caresses
on your hair
And I went away.
...
Fashion me a bouquet,
Where one carnation
grows roots alongside
the other.

lll. The night in stillness

Midnight

At this, the midnight hour
the walls in the room are caving in on me
and I reduced to nothing.

At this, the midnight hour
All the trees are in deep slumber,
While the star that fell
Was swallowed up
by the darkness in the garden.

At this, the midmight hour,
friends have gone astray
in the jungle of my memories
and my dreams linger and are hanging eleswhere.

At this the mightnight hour
friends have gone astray
in the jungle of my memories
and my drens linger and are hangning elsewhere.

At this the midnight hour
I am waiting for someone.
No.

Am I waiting for someone?
My hand is sleeping
with my cheek.
...
Night!
You are there,
and i am here.
Only a row candlelights separeates us.

Night!
All colours recede
Under your black cape,
beside your black heart.
What do you hope to at my wall?

Night!
You seek my dreams,
and knock upon reminiscene`door.
"The wo

You Night,
are there,
I am there.
Only a row of candlelight separates us.
...
Night!
You seek my dreams,
and knock upon reminisce door.
"The world are as leaves, that are being whirled around in a storm."

The darkness
is a black light
with nary a sound,
except for the trees cry for help
and the carnations sighs
in the jaws of the night.

You Night,
are there,
I am here.
Only a row of candlelight separates us.

My most beautiful dreams I wear on me
to fall asleep upon.
And who do I become?
This I enjoy :
Selecting my dreams,
to dream, to dream
from the tree of sleep.

Presently I find myself in the land of deep loneliness,
which even the trees have abandoned...

Ahead of me, my feet gather themselves together,
While my heart rests ponderously
upon my chest.

Here we are,
my dream and I
both of us are desolate
In the jungle of night.


Dying at night

I lay down my body
as if fallen,
heavy

- then the bed opened up,
as if death itself came.

I come during the night
with my wet coat
and my pale face.

I knock on the door
- you must not open it.
I knock on the window
- you must not open it.

And when I am gone,
Look for me,
through the curtains,
or
through the keyhole.

The moon illuminates the room.
Can my candlelight then have respite ?
 

Escape

I will embark upon a journey
down a road
which is not mine.
Perhaps I shall use
a cloud as my chariot
and the wind as my steed.

I will veil all the mirrors
and at a distance,
far away from the light
I will store my ALL.
No one will be able to see me.
I will change heavens
as I change shirts,
and the earth as I change trousers.
I will walk barefoot,
Perhaps even naked.

I will not say hello
to any newcomers,
nor will I say Goodbye
to one who is leaving.

I will hide myself
in my garments
and cover my body
with water.
I will illuminate my face
with the darkness
- and not open my door

nor draw the curtains
nor knock on anybodys door
nor take a single step.

and no friend
either will take
one step
towards me.

I will sit alone
in my own company
and celebrate.
I will happy, so happy
over my sorrow.

I will store
my pain between
my wrinkles.
I will not stare too long
into a newspaper
so it cannot
stare back at me.

I will gather my
fingerprints
and pack away all my foot tracks.

I will choose to take my walks
in days of rain
and take the fog with me
to the bench

I will retire early
into tranquillity
and wake up early.

I will give my
footsteps to the earth
thereby
stealing them.

I will make myself paper
that does not reveal its words,
thats lights up my night
and turns off my day.

I will poke at
all my wounds, so my pain
will never find rest. .



The limbs in delusion

I,
the only one who talks,
I,
the one who regrets my words,
I,
who comes without being summoned,
I,
the inquisitive
- but without answers
except for myself.

I will gather that which I have
already uttered from the winds ears.
I,
my souls visitor.
Never
will a body
let it
come to stay.

I am not created
for subjugation,
my feet are not created to flee.

I did not choose this body
as the exile for the soul.

The one
who does not see my face
cannot see me,
the one
who does not know my name
cannot summon me.

( I have not gone.
Why do you shout
at me? )

My abode is my body
in the company with my
limbs.
The body
- the place where limbs suffer delusion.

My head is the vendor
in the bazaar for bodies.
My limbs are the wares.
 
My body!
I shall leace you
while you sleep
and escape.

The heaviest part of me
is my clothing.
Why is the lightest
part of me
my head?
...
I will steal your umbrella
and send you the rain

Had i been drops of rain
I would have fallen upon you.

Had you been the rain
I would have avoided you
Under my umbrella.

I became very happy the first time
that i saw you-
I also became sad

She said:
come back as you are.
When I came back
I did not know
how I have been.
...
A single body
is not enough for
the pain i feel

The door of the house is a mouth,
that swallows me up day in and day out.

His friends are like flowers,
that come up during the spring.

On the languld surface of the water
the river painted my portrait,
and the wind tore it away.

My shadow moves gently
over my feet,
which do not know
what the darkness may conceal.
My footsteps are all that i own.
- which way do i go?

Picture
Žarko Milenić (autor DIOGEN pro kultura magazina: http://diogenplus.weebly.com/zarko-milenic.html) i Muniam Alfaker, Brčko, 28.11. i 29.11.2013.

Picture
Brčko, 28.11. i 29.11.2013.

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II Međunarodni pjesnički susreti - 
Brčko distrikt BiH 26.11. - 29.11.2013.

Učesnik Muniam Alfaker, Irak 
Koordinator organizacije susreta Žarko Milenić, predsjednik Književnog kluba Brčko distrikta



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VILLA AMIRA, Street Ante Starčevića 33, 
Orebić, Croatia
http://villaamira.weebly.com/

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Bosnia and Herzegovina
http://lpvinyl.weebly.com/



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Copyright © 2014 DIOGEN pro culture magazine & Sabahudin Hadžialić
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Freelance gl. i odg. urednik od / Freelance Editor in chief as of 2009: Sabahudin Hadžialić

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