Live Encounters Arab Women Poets & Writers June 2026
To the Man Who Was, poems Nadya Mohamed.
Translated from Arabic by Dr. Salwa Gouda.
To the Man Who Was
Why do I hold out? Or how long will I stay silent
silent as graves, as stones, as sand?
That’s what the man who was said to the murdered street there,
with no farewell worthy of him.
For a year or a thousand years, the man keeps saying and saying…
He said it to a miserly eagle too, one who wants the house lights killed
in front of his wide mansion and his chicks fattened on beaks.
He said it to a bullfighter already butchered,
addicted to tug-of-war with the umbilical cord until the new day dies.
He whispered his words to dogs howling from the weight of their bellies.
He said it to a woman complaining of the whip of fear
on the skin of the one who sang of her hair and the black of her eyes
on her sad birthday.
He said it to a lost child dressed in cold and a worn-out back belt—
a thick-tongued man’s laugh dropped him behind the old wall.
He said it once, in every tongue,
walking barefoot, holding his mother’s large breast like a nipple.
The man who was, companion to a stranger’s shadow,
a river-like mark on his face, like an aging river,
with a big cowlick on his wise head
enough to raise the coffin high
above the shoulders of the road’s blind lamps.
The strange man spoke long-sleeved words,
clothing the dark girl’s body.
How much the stranger said in the age of marvels
to his defeated companions
and the deaf crowd.
Woman on the Margin
I am not important.
When I disappear, no one asks.
Those who clap for me in the final moments
when I sleep, no one rushes to wake me
to say good morning.
Not even when I walk the full distance
of the university bridge
to throw memory-stones into the river,
or hum an old song that resembles me
or resembles a sharpened pencil.
I know I was a summer cloud
torn apart by the wind’s hands
in an angry moment from the sun.
Or maybe I was someone’s mannequin in a shop window—
he winked at me inside his fantasy, then left with his sweetheart,
mocking his own naughty thought.
Or a firework lighting up the sky for a poet
who was bored one time.
That’s how I see myself, and how I see those around me.
But I’m not frowning.
I’m not busy with all these trivial things.
I keep company with lovers—they always stick to me like my shadow:
Me / my mind / the poem /
and a bullet in my hand I fire
at anyone who tries to break my heart’s ankle
with a stone of fire.
© Nadya Mohamed
Dr Salwa Gouda is an accomplished Egyptian literary translator, critic, and academic affiliated with the English Language and Literature Department at Ain Shams University. Holding a PhD in English literature and criticism, Dr. Gouda pursued her education at both Ain Shams University and California State University, San Bernardino. She has authored several academic works, including Lectures in English Poetry and Introduction to Modern Literary Criticism, among others. Dr. Gouda also played a significant role in translating The Arab Encyclopedia for Pioneers, a comprehensive project featuring poets, philosophers, historians, and literary figures, conducted under the auspices of UNESCO. Recently, her poetry translations have been featured in a poetry anthology published by Alien Buddha Press in Arizona, USA. Her work has also appeared in numerous international literary magazines, further solidifying her contributions to the field of literary translation and criticism.
Nadya Mohamed an Egyptian journalist and poet. She has published three poetry collections: Laughs Open for Discussion (2020), Seasons of Love (2022), and A Lover’s Shadow (2025).