Poetry from Faleeha Hassan

Young Central Asian woman with a green headscarf and a dark colored blouse and brown hair and eyes.
Faleeha Hassan

Lipstick

A Babylonian once told me:

When my name bores me,

I throw it in the river

And return renewed!

* * * * * *

Basra existed

Even before al-Sayyab viewed its streets

Bathed in poetry

As verdant as

A poet’s heart when her

Prince pauses trustfully to sing

While sublime maidens dance–

Brown like mud in the orchards

Soft like mud in the orchards

Scented with henna like mud in the orchards—

And a poem punctuates each of their pirouettes as

They walk straight to the river.

I’ve discovered no place in the city broader than Five Mile.

He declared:

I used to visit there night and day,

When sun and moon were locked in intimate embrace.

Then they quarreled.

2

The Gulf’s water was sweet,

Each ship would unload its cargo,

And crew members enjoyed a bite of an apple

And some honey.

The women were radiant;

So men’s necks swiveled each time ladies’ shadows

Moved beneath the palms’ fronds.

These women needed no adornment;

One look sufficed to coax you to cling to life,

But their purses catered to beauty.

* * * * * *

Snipers

Infantrymen

Sailors

Bedded gems, emeralds.

Their souls persuaded each of them to gaze at these belles

And to break as humbly as waves at their feet.

Worldly men cast their ancestors’ laws from their backs

And set off to draw eyes on the ports’ gates.

Beneath each window

Slumbered a witness to a lover crucified by love

But who died singing

Before you hear the rumble of trains.

3

Cooing laughter calms your spirit.

You shan’t be chided for helping yourself to a whisper.

That man told me everything lipstick confided to him,

Urging him to reveal it!

* * * * * *

This was before the city donned black

To the end of its rivers;

Before crows’ caws blended with blood’s color over our dawns,

Before our streets bedded down early like Mukruk hens.

Women have stripped off their beauty,

Their spirits are embittered,

Their lips are cracked,

And you won’t find even the last stub of

Lipstick in their purses.

By Faleeha Hassan

Translated by William Hutchins

Faleeha Hassan is a poet, teacher, editor, writer, and playwright born in Najaf, Iraq, in 1967, who now lives in the United States. Faleeha was the first woman to write poetry for children in Iraq. She received her master’s degree in Arabic literature, and has now published 26 books, her poems have been translated into English, Turkmen, Bosnian, Indian, French, Italian, German, Kurdish, Spain, Korean, Greek, Serbia, Albanian, Pakistani, Romanian, Malayalam, Chinese, ODIA, Nepali and Macedonian language. She is a Pulitzer Prize Nominee for 2018, and a Pushcart Prize Nominee for 2019. She’s a member of the International Writers and Artists Association. Winner of the Women of Excellence Inspiration award from SJ magazine 2020, and the Winner of the Grand Jury Award (the Sahitto International Award for Literature 2021). She served on the Women of Excellence selection committees for 2023, was a winner of a Women In The Arts award in 2023 and a Member of Who’s Who in America 2023. She’s on the Sahitto Award’s judging panel for 2023 and a cultural ambassador between Iraq and the US.

One thought on “Poetry from Faleeha Hassan

  1. I am glad to have translated some of Faliha’s poems into Romanian. She is a very gifted poet and a genuine Messenger of Peace from Iraq to America and the world of poetry lovers.

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