This is my translation of Nizar Qabbani's poem "Hamlet the Poet".
Hamlet the Poet
To be, or not to be… a woman
That is the question.
To be my favourite woman,
My spoiled Turkish kitten,
My sun, oh thou art my sun.
To be a blissful hand on my forehead,
To be a star in my next life… that is the question.
To be it all, or lose it all: I am just as barbaric when in love.
To be everything a drop of dew, carried on a blossoming flower, represents.
To be my blue notebook,
My papers,
My mental ink.
To be, albeit, a word
Looking for its essence in my lips.
To be a girl blossoming in my hands.
That is the question.
Oh my beautiful nymph sent to me by the sea,
Oh my brutal sound of drumming,
Will you ever comprehend me?
I may have misinterpreted my thoughts,
I might have fallen in your love with blindfolded eyes,
I may well have blown balance with madness,
Because I only love with madness.
Therefore, take me as me, otherwise reject me.
Hamlet the Poet
To be, or not to be… a woman
That is the question.
To be my favourite woman,
My spoiled Turkish kitten,
My sun, oh thou art my sun.
To be a blissful hand on my forehead,
To be a star in my next life… that is the question.
To be it all, or lose it all: I am just as barbaric when in love.
To be everything a drop of dew, carried on a blossoming flower, represents.
To be my blue notebook,
My papers,
My mental ink.
To be, albeit, a word
Looking for its essence in my lips.
To be a girl blossoming in my hands.
That is the question.
Oh my beautiful nymph sent to me by the sea,
Oh my brutal sound of drumming,
Will you ever comprehend me?
I may have misinterpreted my thoughts,
I might have fallen in your love with blindfolded eyes,
I may well have blown balance with madness,
Because I only love with madness.
Therefore, take me as me, otherwise reject me.
