Poem 9. Elegy for a Woman of No Importance

"or Images from a Baghdadi Alley", by Nazik Al-Malaika, translated and told by The Scholar

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The headline reads: The passing of the Iraqi poet Nazik Al-Malaika

[Standard Translation]

[ Images From a Baghdadi Alleyway ]

She's departed, but no cheeks paled for her, no lips trembled
no doors heard her death recounted, told and retold,
no curtains rose nor dripped with grief or sorrow
to follow the casket with a gawking gaze
until it disappears, leaving only the remnant of skeleton
palpitating with memory
news stumbled across the path
finding no shelter for its echo
seeking refuge in a pit of forgetfulness
the moon mourning its gloom

The night surrendered itself thoughtlessly to the morning
and with the light came the sound of the milkmaid and fasting calling,
through the meow of a starving cat of whom remained nothing but bones
with the vendors quarreling, bitterly with toil
and the hurling of stones at street lengths by boys,
through the polluted waters of the alleys, and the winds
playing along rooftop doors, friendless
in resemblance to a deep amnesia
[ 9/7/1952 ]

[ صور من زقاق بغداديّ ]
ذهبتْ ولم يَشحَب لها خدٌّ ولم ترجُفْ شفاهُ
لم تَسْمع الأبوابُ قصةَ موتها تُرْوَى وتُرْوَى
لم تَرتَفِعْ أستار نافذةٍ تسيلُ أسًى وشجوَا
لتتابعَ التابوت بالتحديقِ حتى لا تراهُ
إلا بقيّةَ هيكلٍ في الدربِ تُرْعِشُه الذِّكَرْ
نبأ تعثـّر في الدروب فلم يجدْ مأوًى صداهُ
فأوَى إلى النسيانِ في بعضِ الحُفَرْ
يرثي كآبَته القَمَرْ.

والليلُ أسلم نفسَهُ دون اهتمامٍ، للصَباحْ
وأتى الضياءُ بصوتِ بائعةِ الحليبِ وبالصيامْ،
بمُوَاءِ قطٍّ جائعٍ لم تَبْقَ منه سوى عظامْ،
بمُشاجراتِ البائعين، وبالمرارةِ والكفاحْ،
بتراشُقِ الصبيان بالأحجار في عُرْضِ الطريقْ،
بمساربِ الماء الملوّثِ في الأزقّةِ، بالرياحْ،
تلهو بأبوابِ السطوح بلا رفيقْ
في شبهِ نسيانٍ عميقْ
[ 9/7/1952 ]

[Translation With Romanization]

She’s departed
ذهبتْ
Dhahabat

But no cheeks paled for her
ولم يَشحَب لها خدٌّ
Wa lam yashhab laha khaddun

No lips trembled
ولم ترجُفْ شفاهُ
Wa lam tarjuf shifāh

No doors heard her death recounted, told and retold
لم تَسْمع الأبوابُ قصةَ موتها تُرْوَى وتُرْوَى
Lam tasma‘ al-abwāb qissat mawtihā turwā wa turwā

No curtains rose nor dripped with grief or sorrow
لم تَرتَفِعْ أستار نافذةٍ تسيلُ أسًى وشجوَا
Lam tartafi‘ astār nāfidhah tasīlu asan wa shajwā

To follow the casket with a gawking gaze
لتتابعَ التابوت بالتحديقِ حتى لا تراهُ
Litutābi‘ at-tābūt bittaḥdīq ḥattā lā tarāh

Until it disappears, leaving only the remnant of skeleton palpitating with memory
إلا بقيّةَ هيكلٍ في الدربِ تُرْعِشُه الذِّكَرْ
Illā baqiyyat haykal fī ad-darb tur‘ishuh adh-dhikr

News stumbled across the path
نبأ تعثـّر في الدروب
Naba’ ta‘aththar fī ad-durūb

Finding no shelter for its echo
فلم يجدْ مأوًى صداهُ
Fa lam yajid ma’wā ṣadāh

Seeking refuge in a pit of forgetfulness
فأوَى إلى النسيانِ في بعضِ الحُفَرْ
Fa’awā ilā an-nisyān fī ba‘ḍ al-ḥufar

The moon mourning its gloom
يرثي كآبَته القَمَرْ
Yarthī kaābatuh al-qamar

The night surrendered itself thoughtlessly to the morning
والليلُ أسلم نفسَهُ دون اهتمامٍ، للصَباحْ
Wa al-layl aslama nafsah dūna ihtimām lil-ṣabāḥ

And with the light came the sound of the milkmaid and fasting calling
وأتى الضياءُ بصوتِ بائعةِ الحليبِ وبالصيامْ
Wa atā al-ḍiyā’ biṣawt bā’i‘at al-ḥalīb wa biṣ-ṣiyām

Through the meow of a starving cat, of whom remained nothing but bones
بمُوَاءِ قطٍّ جائعٍ لم تَبْقَ منه سوى عظامْ
Bimiwā’ qiṭṭ jā’i‘ lam tabqa minhu siwā ‘iẓām

With the vendors quarreling, bitterly with toil
بمُشاجراتِ البائعين، وبالمرارةِ والكفاحْ
Bimushājirāt al-bā’i‘īn wa bil-marārah wa al-kifāḥ

And the hurling of stones at street lengths by boys
بتراشُقِ الصبيان بالأحجار في عُرْضِ الطريقْ
Bitarāshuq aṣ-ṣibyān bil-aḥjār fī ‘urḍ aṭ-ṭarīq

Through the polluted waters of the alleys, and the winds
بمساربِ الماء الملوّثِ في الأزقّةِ، بالرياحْ
Bimasārib al-mā’ al-mulawwith fī al-azqah bir-riyāḥ

Playing along rooftop doors, friendless
تلهو بأبوابِ السطوح بلا رفيقْ
Talhū bi-abwāb as-suṭūḥ bilā rafīq

In resemblance to a deep amnesia
في شبهِ نسيانٍ عميقْ
Fī shibh nisyān ‘amīq

[The story]

If sorrow seeps through elegies and grief through laments, what, then, is left to be said of requiems and eulogies? Not all departing farewells are bid in tears; certainly, some eulogies can be delivered in good humor, just as requiems can be enjoyed in good spirits. So, what do they all have in common? The answer lies in a Latin phrase, like all Latin phrases, containing a fragment of universally accepted truth, one that even contrasting countries have been found unanimously to agree upon:

De mortuis nil nisi bonum dicendum est.
Of the dead, nothing but good is to be said.

Otherwise known, as I knew it growing up, as: It’s ill to speak of the dead. This phrase links the differences in all farewells to one common goal: the collective need to respect the dead.

But what happens when that respect isn't granted? What happens when the individual passing is viewed so low in society’s eyes as to receive nothing, no weeping of windows, no rising of curtains, no appearance of doors? This is the society the Iraqi poet Nazik al-Malaika grew up in and later recounts in many of her poems, especially emphasized in her piece Elegy for a Woman of No Importance (also known as Images from a Baghdadi Alleyway).

Not only does nobody mourn the departure of the "worthless woman," but life moves on by the very next dawn, with vendors back at it again, as though untouched by the previous night’s death. In a society that emphasizes community and collectivism, the hidden pillars of that same community are given no second thought, with only the moon left to lament them.

Nazik masterfully portrays the minute struggles women face in everyday life, struggles revolving primarily around under appreciation and marginalization as secondary entities in a male-dominated society. When a man is born, drums will roll, and at his death, cries will echo; as for a woman, tears fall at her birth and scarcely appear at her death. Unfortunately, many of Nazik's poems depicting the struggles of daily life for women are not taught in the Iraqi high school curriculum, though some of her other poems are. As such, many of these issues still persist, and it is up to readers and poets alike to raise awareness of this long-forgotten issue and help put an end to the oppression.

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