“Mourning has no crown” … An identity in the face of emptiness

“A bird speaks alone like a flute / in a quiet, slowly diminishing rain” from the poem “A Flood in the Inner Land” by Thomas Transtrom, words presented by Abbas Beydoun as it is. He summed it up with language, thought, song and a lot of invisible depth … But can we write about Abbas Baydoun? There is a philosophical dimension that is difficult to dismantle, which has driven his achievements from the beginning. A poet practices a marriage between language and silence, then the poems connect with holes that have no bottom, “terrifying intersections / squares like cages / and only walls with booby traps / more things that fall / of betrayed verses / more sleeping facts “… But in other places he clearly names things. As he intuits:” Lirita, the gift of the year … / What are you doing, old poet, who doesn’t pick you up? “

In his collection of poems, “Mourning does not wear a crown” (Dar Al-Saqi), Baydoun begins with what is related to both human and poetic immortality, “I am a semi-father … I am a semi-poet.” The beginning of this text is full of his ego, but I am suffering. He calls himself a “quasi” father, a “quasi” poet, and he does not see his integrity as we see him and as he wants him to be. It is a language for us that has a language behind it. He knows what he means, and we are trying to stretch between shadow and light to discover Baydoun’s semantic, private and general time, discover the language of Abbas, the language of his head, the language of his hands, his face and body. We advance with him in places out of this world, and we find ourselves faced with components inhabited by interpretation at one point and clearly at another. Its primary connotations are: “duel without a crown, suicide t-shirts, death is a coin, my name with some dead meat”.
But where does Baydoun’s poem, “From death that passed like a thread”, or from “death on a wig”, or from his face “cast in bricks waiting for the one who dies first” comes from? His life collapsed before his eyes to write about death, it is the suffering unconscious of Abbas Beydoun, where his personal things converge with his alert consciousness of his unity that is gradually being built. There is a permanent recognition of loneliness, as it awaits someone to die. These are the very sad things about Abbas Beydoun that disintegrate from their symbolism and come together with a collective personal emotional experience. It is the theme of life and death, so each word of his words and each image has its symbolic story. Rather, it has its cruel presence that will approach the concept of experience entity associated with the human and personal to the mysterious and metaphysical. “We do not know if the dead man who returns listens / If he is still the same / What happened was incomprehensible / And his secret will not be revealed / We mortals / Mortal poets / We do not know from what fatigue we come / And what fatigue will we stop from this world / The cover will not be revealed to us / We are not immortal, nor are we stones »…
Perhaps the first thought was Najla, Abbas’s only sister, “I attended your birth and I thought that I gave birth to you / I buried you as you buried your brother / one of the two is no longer a body.” Ten poems of a son numbered the body that was filled with sedatives, the medicine bag, the words that a son had piled up in his pockets and there were so many in her that they turned into pains. The pain was thick and no one cleared it. Najla’s poems are capable of insinuating in you a deep pain and a hidden feeling of loneliness, written by the poet spontaneously and sincerely as an adult as if he were speaking to his sister, as if he were speaking to himself, he did not know that he was writing pure poetry and maybe it lasts sometimes. But before Najla and after Najla, Abbas leads us by the hand on a painful journey of observing time, capturing us from within and joining us with his pain. “The loneliness that comes alone / Time in the environment that is gradually diminishing … / When the elegy arrives / It will torment you when your face arrives from the laboratory / Or you receive your life in a message … / Do you meet old enough to go to the other tree … / How long do you have to look at your apples / talk to them at a depth of sixty years / how long do you have to drag them into a hole / fall asleep on your side / and also fall from a wing blow / and of a flying year.
The pain is real in Baydoun’s texts. The texts present the formula of death in the vocabulary, although its pain is tremendous, however, they awaken us to the beauty of Dafin. A complete painting of Abbas Baydoun’s personal thought … “Mourning has no crown” is a portrait of Abbas Baydoun. A face that does not change from one poem to another, but rather complements it. Consciously or unconsciously, he presents his face spontaneously and in pain in a visual dimension that transcends the world after he poses it to us in the form of existential questions, and thus weaves a debate with the Absolute. “Should we leave the world a poem? / What if it was a lie / What if it was in vain?” Abbas’s face looks at the world from outside of him, from outside himself, he stands on high and speaks of God who will come out of the tombs, the devil in the mouth of the rose and the man who cast his shadow on the wall … “It is not true that laughter heals / and that laughter continues to sound In the mountain / After the lie ends and the place becomes silent”. He recognizes the triumph of time over life and is fully aware of what will lead himself and things, and this is a condition for the emergence of eternity and the summons of the opposite. And thus he resists death itself. “Sow in this invisible a seed / Any word and any line / You are in Adam’s garden / This will be your identity / In front of the void / Your body too … / The words will be the wheat of the dead ”, are words from the poem“ The Garden of Adam ”that constitutes a world of poet, A hidden realm of silent pain within. It is the identity of Abbas excessive mind condensed and unique in his philosophical thought, in which the poet uses molecules to deconstruct them and add a series of dead and invisible words …
“Mourning Does Not Wear a Crown” is a piece of Baydoun’s prepoetic novelist and intellectual achievements that constitute a complete record of this universe. It attracts us to change things with it. We cross these terrifying intersections and hear the numbers that say, “We are out of heaven.”

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