Interview

Morocco: An Interview with Mohamed Ali Lagouader, Author Jillian York · 16:03 · Middle East & North Africa
From Mohammédia, Morocco, aspiring author Mohamed Ali Lagouader has discovered the art of transcending borders and reaching out to an international audience through publishing his novels and poetry online. Jillian York catches up with Lagouader and speaks to him about his writing, reading and dreams in this interview.

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Essay - Interview

ALARAB ONLINE

Art Global

Silobreaker

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In Spanish :

Marruecos: Entrevista con Mohamed Ali Lagouader, Autor Traducido por Amaia Donés Mendia · 4:22 pm · Middle East & North Africa Mohamed Ali Lagouader nació y creció en Mohammedia, Marruecos. De joven escribió poesía en árabe marroquí, después cambió al francés y más tarde al inglés, tras recibir su título en Lengua Inglesa, en la Facultad de Letras de Mohamedia (tiene también un diploma en Traducción, obtenido en la Escuela Avanzada ... · leer »

FOR YOU

To the memory of my father rahimahullah

For you,

It’s cool to drive home

An almond-eyed cool blonde

Picked up in Paris or in Rome.

For you,

It’s cool to score a goal in Liverpool

Against Real Madrid or Lazio Rome.

For you,

It must be fine to savour wine

And spaghetti while listening to Pavarotti.

For you,

It’s great to have £ 8,000 in hand

Or to land a higher rank in a central bank.

For you,

It’s a delight to the eyes

To watch sunrise in the dunes of Morocco.

For you,

It’s beyond telling the joy of jogging in Monaco.

Let alone the joy of shopping in Hanoi

Or riding a mule in Illinois.

For you,

Time is Now, life in Now,

And there’s nothing to be said

For there’s no other life ahead.

For you,

Life is the kitchen and the bed.

Well, that’s you.

As for me,

Life is Now and Tomorrow.

Life is joy and sorrow.

For me,

I would love to hear Allahu Akbar

From a minaret in Madagascar.

I would love to hear an imam

Talk of Islam in Amsterdam,

Or speak to the children of Leeds

About the worth of good deeds.

I would love to see girls pray

To Allah at Broadway.

I would love to see boys making a lot of noise

Simply because they say

It’s just as lovely

To be a Muslim in Sydney

As in Harlem or Boston !

I would love to see people

From all over the world

Flying as one bird

To meet round the Ka’ba

To say what the Queen of Sheba

Learnt from Solomon :

There’s no God but Allah.

Praise, Praise to Allah !

___________________

صور الكعبة المشرفة

NO MORE

Ali LAGOUADER

No more will you knock at our door.
No more will you walk on our floor.
No more will you drink our tea.
No more will you see what we see.
No more will you hear what we hear.
No more will you fear a fear.
No more will you shed a tear.
No more will you enjoy our foods.
No more will you tread our roads.
No more will you roam our woods.
No more will you inquire after me.
No more will you smile at me.
No more will you call my name,
But all the same
And despite all the pain
You stood to gain
When you clearly said
Just days before you were dead:
أشهد أن لا إلاه إلا الله
و أشهد أن محمدا رسول الله
اللهم لك الحمد على ما أعطيت
اللهم لك الحمد على ما أعطيت
اللهم لك الحمد على ما أعطيت
You said it yourself, dad,
And we were all, all sad
For we feared time might be up, father,
And you wouldn’t go farther.
It’s hard, hard, hard
To bear to see you there
In the graveyard –
While we are here,
Where we can’t hear
Your voice or see your smile.
But it’s only a while
And we shall all be there!
I know your bones may decay
I know the worms may eat your flesh away,
But your soul will remain whole
And one day you will revive
And stay alive
For ever and ever.
And I know also
That we shall all go:
No money will keep us for ever.
No medecines will keep us for ever.
No doctor will live for ever.
Praise to Allah Who never dies!
Praise to Allah Who made Paradise!




اللهم ارحم أبي و أسكنه فسيح جناتك
اللهم اجعلنا خير خلف لخير سلف

"إنا لله و إنا إليه راجعون"

وداعا يا أبي

Ali LAGOUADER

قد غبت يا أبي و الجو ربيع

فإذا قطرات الندى دموع

و إن غبت يا أبي فإنا

على العهد كما كنا

ما لي يا أبي دمع أدرفه

و لا كلام أعرفه

يشفي غليلي يا أبي

و لكن حسبي أن تظل خليلي

و لو بطيفك يا أبي

و إن جفت من عيني الدموع

فهواك باق في الضلوع

وداعا يا أبي وداعا

و ما ضاع مؤمن ما ضاعا

و لا إلاه إلا الله

و لا حول إلا بالله

و إلى جنات الخلد

إن شاء الله

" و إنا لله و إنا إليه راجعون"

Cheer up!

What’s wrong with your tongue?
Can’t you say Subhanallah?
Can’t you say Ma Sha Allah?
Shake off that gloom!
And let your face bloom!
Or did your team go down in esteem
By losing Three-Nil to Brazil?
Or did you lose your job?
Oh, no, don’t be a snob!
Don’t ape those in good shape!
Say Subhanallah! Say Ma Sha Allah!
And pray and pray to Allah
Till hope comes your way,
Ray by ray!
No, don’t think of Tsunami!
Think of the beaches of Miami!
Think of Amazon flowers!
Think of New York towers!
Don’t think of King Lear or even Shakespeare!
But think of Allah and you’ll steer
Right for the Light of Faith –
The Faith that’ll give you powers
And blessings in showers,
And your face will excel all flowers
In beauty and freshness!
Blessed be Allah! And Allah bless you,
For your goodness!

Dis pas ça!

Tu dis ça, toi?
Tu oses dire que je n’t’aime pas?
Et ce feu qui brûle mon cœur,
Qui l’a allumé, moi?
Et ces nuits que j’ai passées à penser à toi,
Qui m’a empêché de dormir, moi?
Non, dis pas ça!
Je t’aime malgré moi!

J'aime tes yeux

Quand ils se lèvent vers Dieu.

Que tu ailles à la mosquée

Ou vers les bosquets

J’aime ta démarche

Quand tu marches

Comme une reine au bord de le Seine.

Non, dis pas ça!

Je t’aime malgré moi!

Là-bas

Là-bas à Rabat j’ai un cœur qui bat

J’ai des lèvres qui, comme des lièvres,

Courent après celle qui, sans ailes,

Vole à travers ciel

Où l’on peut voir, matin et soir,

Des étoiles portant le voile

Dont la Lune fait la Une

De son journal !

La Lune, cette belle brune,

Ecrit, et crie, qu’elle aime

Celle que j’aime

Et que je ne connais pas.

Que m’importe !

Je fais en sorte

Qu’elle soit là-bas à Rabat.

Je l’aime. Je l’aime. Je l’aime dans son voile.

Je l’aime chair et poil.

Et je l’attends tout le temps

Comme les gens des dunes

Attendent la lune.

Oui, je l’attends.

Oui, je t’attends !

Et c’est de moi que tu te caches, chérie ?

Moi qui, si je ris,

Je ne ris que pour toi ?

Moi qui, si je chante,

Je ne chante que pour toi !

Et toi, qui me hantes,

Tu te caches de moi ?