Poem #4. Rita and the Rifle

Poem by Mahmoud Darwish, Narrated by the scholar

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[Translation With Romanization]

Between Rita and my eyes... a rifle
بين ريتا وعيوني... بندقيَّة
Bayna Rita wa ‘uyooni... bunduqiyya

And the one who knows Rita, bows
والذي يعرف ريتا , ينحني
Wa alladhi ya‘rifu Rita, yanhani

And prays to a god in the honey-colored eyes!
ويصلي لإلهٍ في العيون العسليَّة !
Wa yusalli li'ilahin fi al-‘uyoon al-‘asaliyya!

I kissed Rita when she was young,
وأنا قبَّلت ريتا عندما كانت صغيره
Wa ana qabbaltu Rita ‘indama kanat saghira

When she was young...
عندما كانت صغيره
‘Indama kanat saghira

And I remember how she held onto me,
وأنا أذكر كيف التصقتْ بي
Wa ana adhkuru kayfa iltasqat bi

Covered my arm with the sweetest braid.
وغَطَّتْ ساعدي أحلي ضفيرة
Wa ghatat sa‘idi ahla dafira

And I remember Rita like a bird remembers its stream.
وأنا أذكر ريتا مثلما يذكر عصفورٌ غديرَهْ
Wa ana adhkuru Rita mithlama yadhkuru ‘usfoorun ghadirah

Ah, Rita... between us, a million birds and images,
آه.. ريتا بيننا مليون عصفور وصوره
Ah... Rita baynana milyoon ‘usfoor wa sura

And countless meetings.
ومواعيدُ كثيرة
Wa mawa‘eed katheera

A rifle fired at her...
أطلقتْ ناراً عليها.. بندقيَّة
Atlaqat naran ‘alayha... bunduqiyya

Rita’s name was a holiday in my mouth,
اسم ريتا كان عيداً في فمي
Ismu Rita kana ‘eedan fi fami

Her body was a wedding in my blood.
جسم ريتا كان عرساً في دمي
Jismu Rita kana ‘ursan fi dami

And I was lost in Rita... for two years.
وأنا ضعت بريتا ... سنتَينِ
Wa ana di‘tu bi Rita... sanatayn

We vowed upon the most beautiful cup,
وتعاهدنا على أجمل كأس
Wa ta‘ahadna ‘ala ajmal ka’s

And we burned in the wine of the lips,
واحترقنا في نبيذ الشفتين
Wa ihtaraqna fi nabeez al-shafatayni

And we were born twice!
وولدنا مرتين !
Wa wulidna marratayni!

Ah, Rita... what turned my eyes away from yours,
آه.. ريتا أي شيء ردَّ عن عينيك عينيَّ
Ah... Rita ayyu shay’in radda ‘an ‘aynayki ‘aynayya

Other than two blinks and honey-colored clouds
سوى إغفاءتين وغيوم عسليّة
Siwa ighfa’atayn wa ghuyoom ‘asaliyya

Before this rifle!
قبل هذي البندقيَّة!
Qabla hadhihi al-bunduqiyya!

Once upon a time, O silence of dusk,
كان يا ما كان يا صمت العشيّة
Kana ya ma kana ya samt al-‘ashiyya

My moon migrated far in the morning
قمري هاجَر في الصبح بعيداً
Qamari hajara fi al-subh ba‘eedan

Into the honey-colored eyes.
في العيون العسلَيّة
Fi al-‘uyoon al-‘asaliyya

And the city swept away all the singers—
والمدينة كنست كل المغنين
Wa al-madina kanasat kulla al-mughannina

And Rita... between my eyes and me... a rifle.
وريتا بين وعيوني.. بندقيّة
Wa Rita bayna wa ‘uyooni... bunduqiyya

[Standard Translation]

Between Rita and my eyes... A rifle
And whoever knows Rita, bows
and prays
to a god in the honey-colored eyes!
.. And I kissed Rita
when she was little
When she was little
And I remember how she clung
to me, And covered my arm with the sweetest braid
And I remember Rita
as a bird remembers its brood
Oh.. Rita
Between us a million birds And pictures
and many appointments
I shot at her.. A rifle

Rita's name was a holiday in my mouth
Rita's body was a wedding in my blood
And I lost Rita... Two years.
And we pledged to the most beautiful cup, And we burned
in the wine of the lips
And we were born twice!
Oh.. Rita
What turned my eyes away from your eyes
Except two slumbers
And honey-colored clouds
Before this rifle!
Once upon a time,
the silence of the evening
My moon migrated far in the morning
In the honey-colored eyes
And the city
swept away all the singers, And Rita
between my eyes... A rifle

بين ريتا وعيوني... بندقيَّة
والذي يعرف ريتا , ينحني
ويصلي
لإلهٍ في العيون العسليَّة !
..وأنا قبَّلت ريتا
عندما كانت صغيره
عندما كانت صغيره
وأنا أذكر كيف التصقتْ
بي, وغَطَّتْ ساعدي أحلي ضفيرة
وأنا أذكر ريتا
مثلما يذكر عصفورٌ غديرَهْ
آه.. ريتا
بيننا مليون عصفور وصوره
ومواعيدُ كثيرة
أطلقتْ ناراً عليها.. بندقيَّة

اسم ريتا كان عيداً في فمي
جسم ريتا كان عرساً في دمي
وأنا ضعت بريتا ... سنتَينِ.
وتعاهدنا على أجمل كأس , واحترقنا
في نبيذ الشفتين
وولدنا مرتين !
آه.. ريتا
أي شيء ردَّ عن عينيك عينيَّ
سوى إغفاءتين
وغيوم عسليّة
قبل هذي البندقيَّة!
كان يا ما كان
يا صمت العشيّة
قمري هاجَر في الصبح بعيداً
في العيون العسلَيّة
والمدينة
كنست كل المغنين, وريتا
بين وعيوني.. بندقيّة

[The Story]

What happens when a Palestinian and an Israeli, both of whom hold firm beliefs in their right to the land over the other, fall in love? In storybooks, the two lovers overcome their unique differences and reconcile. In reality, the only outcome of such a relationship is heartbreak. Such was the case with the renowned Palestinian poet Mahmoud Darwish and his infamous lover, the Israeli Tamar Ben-Ami, or Rita, as she is known in mainstream media.

Mahmoud and Rita met for the first time at a party held by the Israeli Communist Party, an anti-Zionist party that believed both opposing groups had a right to the land. A belief that seems controversial today, but in the mid-20th century, was nothing short of wishful thinking. Mahmoud was an Arab, and Rita was a Jew. He recited two poems while she performed a dance. It was at this event that they first fell in love, as Rita later recalled, “He seemed like a Greek god.” Thus began their romance, with the following years spent exchanging letters and meetings, creating blissful times and happy memories.

That is, until the June defeat. By the end of June 1967, their romance was all but over. When the Arab-Israeli War began, their love story came to an end. While Rita chose to join the Israeli Air Force (and not Mossad, as is commonly believed), Mahmoud chose to stand by his people and the Palestinian cause that would later form the foundation of his poetry. It was after this June setback that Darwish wrote one of his most famous love poems; Rita and the Rifle.

25 years passed before they met again in Paris. Mahmoud and Rita both mutually decided to spend the next day together, but when the day came, Mahmoud refused to open the door for Rita. When she called him from a public telephone, Mahmoud asked her never to speak to him again, to forget their romance, and said that she was no longer his lover, nor ever was. Rita later recalled crying a lot after this call.

It remains unknown why Darwish changed his mind or the true extent of Rita’s story, as Mahmoud never commented on her version. What remains are the poignant words left in his poetry and his own description of himself, the lover with bad luck, as he said:

“I am the unlucky lover, I cannot come to you, and I cannot return to me.”

[Recited Poem]-Starts at 0:40