Lost Utopia
(Translated by:
Abdulwaḥid Lu’lu’a)
A lost echo, like a remote mirage
Attracts my soul, day and night
I sleep on its eternal sound,
It wakes me by its pleasant song,
An echo never like any other,
Sung by a secret guitar.
If heard by my life, it would fall
In yearning, and call it a thousand times
At its repeat dies every wound,
In my heart, and every hope would shine.
My feeling would more in ecstasy
Numbed by the dream of Utopia.
A dream in my blood is Utopia,
I die and live by its name,
I fancied it a land of fragrance,
On a horizon’s secret I could not guess.
There, across a distant void
The planets melt in its magic.
The light dies, but its colour
And fragrance cannot be grasped.
There, where all bonds there disappear
And thought is freed from its bondage.
Where the eyes of life do sleep,
There is where spreads Utopia.
Utopia is where the light stays
And does not set or wane the sun,
Where violet aroma stays alive.
And where narcissus does not wither,
Where life can flow with wholesome nectar
And cups are never empty.
Where limits of time are lost
Where stars can never drowse.
There, life is an extent of youth,
With its elation souls are full,
And there, the spring remains a spring,
Shading the men of Utopia.
There, where Scheherazade came up
With tales she sang a thousand nights.
And where Diana drives the light
And Narcissus his shadow worships
There, Utopia is a twilight fog,
The like of which was never seen.
Surrounded by eternal fragrance,
Offering her the tunes and kisses.
She lives indefinitely drunk,
By the echo of waning songs.
On the shore so full of star- light,
Which I call Utopia shore.
One evening there I toured around,
Accompanied by a mirage like form:
I felt its steps upon the sand,
But saw nothing except some clouds.
And in my body moved a life,
Flying, with my soul, above the land.
Before me was a strange passage
Covered by puffs of fog.
On both sides spread a gulf
With some islands and heights.
Dreaming, I shouted: where am I?
The Echo said: by Utopia.
Deep in my soul I felt madness,
A yearning like a sea so deep
Wishing the strange way could lead me,
Do the deep and desired land.
To that eternal horizon,
Where lives the gentle Apollo.
I walk and walk, and nothing looks
Before me but extending roads
Thirsty for existence rare,
On which melt dew and lightning.
A startling thirst, and finally,
I woke up to see no Utopia.
In another dream, I was travelling,
On a shore of pebbles and sands,
Strange, strange, like the colour of ether
Surrounded by a fancy horizon.
It led my tired feet ahead,
To a rock eternally fixed.
Climbing it is a waning hope,
As even shadows there could slip.
I stood down by its feet, and moaned
On a wretched, untenable hope.
I wondered what could be behind it,
The sound replied: Utopia.
In a third dream, I thought myself
At its large marble gate,
Staring with unconfined elation,
I could go mad, or I could fly.
Do I really see the gate?
Its boards were draped with silk,
I stepped in reverence and in awe,
My eyes had a glimpse of peaceful dreams,
Elated, I knocked on the door,
Not answer but bitter silence.
I shouted with a restrained voice:
Let me die at the gates of Utopia.
My life went by; it went in vain,
And nothing can the yearning quench.
In vain I crossed the life deserts,
In vain I dragged the years’ fetters.
I still am crossing the silent wastes,
Asking all men about their secret
Waiting is heavy on my heart.
So I sink in deep despair.
I tried the solace in something:
A wood, a valley, or shady trees.
Minutes and I despair and shout:
There is nothing like Utopia.
I remain attracted by my hopes,
To the remote, eternal horizon.
I dream, I dream, but do not wake
Accepted dream in your dream.
I kiss its walls in my fancy,
When asked about it the wider space.
I ask the pouring fragrance about it,
I ask you, dew and mountain ice,
I asked to my question dies
Upon my lips and the song withers.
And when I die, my heart will have
Made an appointment with Utopia.
(Complete Works, II, 1971, pp.35-44; 1948)