Alsadig Alradi

Al-ssadiq Al-raddi (Arabic الصادق الرضي) (born 1969), is a Sudanese poet, born in Omdurman.

Career

He has been publishing poetry since he was 15 when his poem "The Wind" was published in the literary journal "Al-Shawa". He was awarded the prize of Youth Poets in 1986 and in the same year he got a member of Sudanese Writers Union, he released Three poetry collection the first had been released under the title "Ganna Aloazalla" The Singing of Solitude, published in 1996, 2001 in Khartoum, and his second collection "Mattahat Elsoltan" The Dilemma of The Sultan published also in 1996, 2001, and Third Collection Agassi Shaashatt Alasika. He works as an editor in many Sudanese Newspapers, like Alhoria (freedom), Aladwaa, Al Ayam (The Days) and currently works in Al-sudani newspaper as head of cultural editor department.

He contributed by recited his poetry in Abu Dhabi International for Book Fair in April 2004.He has poetry translated to English by The Centre of Poetry Translation CPT, School of Oriental and African Studies (SOAS), University of London and the transltion had done by Sudanese poet Hafiz Kheir, poet Sarah Maguire and poet Mark FORD. He recited his poetry in many British cities which organize by the CPT, also he contributed in many workshop for poetry translation in Britain. Also he contributed in the congress of translation from Arabic to English and from English to Arabic which held under auspices of The British Culture Council festival with the London International Book Fair 2006. In March 2006 he invited by Poetry Cafe in London to recite a poem.

ample of Alsadig Alradi Translated Poetry

*A Monkey at the Window

I

The small boy, playing in bed.while his wounded mother cooks,is throwing little words and sounds out of the window.

She smiles(the whole world lights up)he chatters excitedly - What can he see?

There's a monkey at the window -behind the door!But he is fallinginto darkness.And though he never raises a cryhe holds up his claws - this darkstormy boy.

II

She never taught him how to cry, only how to sing.Happy in herself - just as she wished to be - she taught him endless space and vastness,and she calls him: Open-hearted.

Behind him, a mountain of metaphors, in front, a river, a mouthful of night, and a train of caravans calling him away.(Where is that threadthat fire the skill?)

III

Running - down an alleywayhe splashes cooking oil all over his shorts, this boy!

He wets himselfwith laughterrunning through Eternity -through this alleywaythis pack of dogs,the conspiracies of fate!

IV

The solid front door remembers the hand that made it -You are the key -and the creak of the universe – it's your sole secret.You lean your dreams and future against it.For its sake you endure the woodworms gnawing through your heart, the reek of damp,the hammering of enemies and relatives.(Long is the absence of lightthat paints things awake - Long is the presence of paint!)

You come home exhausted - from wherever you’ve been,the wind at your side - just as you wished,toyed with by traumas.

Once he made necklaces from seashells, colouring them with his own fairytales,once he made friends with strange frogs - and all the while she’s watching himfrom behind the door /from out the window(when she runs to pick him up,he will not raise a cry!)

V

In the forest the lonely one knows all the voicesbeckoned by the eyes of loved onestheir songs are luring herwith their tbender fingersand her own translucent solitude.She sits in silenceclose to every thingbrewing tea,stirring the porridge.

In the gardenof a strange home, her home,she welcomes the pots and pansto the sounds of morning.Scrubbing everything, in its proper place,one eye on the radio that calls her to those distant sands,the desert.But her colour flows like a riverso she can sing….And that boy?………. ………….In a green forestor a red forestor a desert,now who calls him to Eternity?

*Breathless

Your heart thumps -as if she were alreadyat your door.

Or - as if expecting her -all the birds in the midday skyarrive to clamor at your window.

… … … … … … … … … … …

An age of patience.A forest of fluttering.

.......................

*Song

Facing down wind in a dust-storm,wrapped up in his cloakand wearing a hat that can’t make him vanish -

this skinny manscans the horizon,gathering - but not quite yet - flowersuntil the moment you meet

(… but stuck in this narrow alleywayamong mountains of rubbishhe longs to lift up his beakunfurl his wingsand take flight…)

.................................

*Orchards

I

Orchards surround his homes;there, translucent moonlight fallson tranquil streamsforming mirrors of each pool.And now this honest tavern ownerhas asked me to taste the fruits of truth!

That first night, we sang togetherand, even though he misread me and I misunderstood his invitation,in the end, we shattered every mirror,and found ourselves in a warm embrace.

II

Free the treasure from the fruit in plain light.Free the secret from the shadow,free tenderness from shame,set free your self.Pour your self out - flow,so we can be at peace together.

Here is a branch, drifting on an aimless wave:water seeps through its shootslike tears,while the keening wind whispers its desires,knowing now the essence of its muffled secrets.

Here are shafts of light, shattered,here are caves crumbling in your fists:never hide your self.

The way you open the night for passers-by.The way you close the window.

III

The cruel silence of shattered glass,thick with little, daily things,that circling, parch your speech.Open your heart. Awaken your mind.You are in flux,your dull husk blindto the light of your self.Revelation is a dream.Strip your self bare.Ecstasy awaits you.

Translated by Hafiz Kheir and Sarah Maguire

External links

* [http://www.sudan-forall.org/sections/qissa/pages/kutab/k_shi3r/alsadig-alradi.htm Sudanese Society for Research on Arts and Humanities - poetry - Alsadig Alradi] , accessed January 8, 2007