Zayed Katreb the writer
Translated by me (Tareq Neman)
Every poet feels that his poems are his soul-twins, or twins of the ones they love. A poet feels that his poem can breathe and is made of flesh and blood. It reacts to actions, it shows special feelings and involves high emotions, especially when it is being written or during the ‘creation phase’. Sometimes the poet wraps his poem with the beautiful clothes and walks with it along the endless roads; or he sits with his poem in a café, drinking his favorite black Turkish coffee. He feels that his poem, together with him, is watching the streets through the window of the café; it is observing people walking along the street and going to nowhere. This is the way, in which a poet forms his words, in order to create new living creatures that could talk and negotiate. This ‘poem of the dream’ could turn into an idea that would keep moving the poet’s imagination to be born, but to remain in vain. Many writers admit in their hearts that they still haven’t been able to write the poem that could express how they feel inside, the poem which would be a significant turning point in their literary career, or maybe even in the entire world of poetry. The problem is that many poets live their lives and die without writing that poem, the poem that could turn things upside-down. On the other hand, we find some poets, who can make miracles happen with one poem. Some of them wrote more than just one piece, but only one of them breaks into hearts and books of the history, becoming a first of its kind in the literature. The ‘poem of the dream’ is that other bank of the river, that the poet tries to reach, and which moves his mind and imagination, depriving him from sleep; as if it was constantly knocking to the doors of his imagination and memory, in order to remind him about the necessity of its birth. This poem feels that the poet writes it out of the blood of his fingers, as if it was an outburst of tremendous emotions and concerns, which he had refused to release, as not satisfying his ego; as not appreciated and not worthy of being released onto papers or to be typed on the keyboard. Such release and explosion, as everyone knows, will give to a poet relief and make him relaxed. Many poets and writers write this poem in the last days of their lives. They write the most beautiful texts and poems in the moment when they feel that they are struggling with the time; the time that pushed them and did not give them chance to give birth to the ‘poem of the dream’. Words eventually will need someone, who can express them, in order to release the imagination. The luckiest poets are those, who believed that they had defeated time by writing all what they had had in their minds and imagination. Taking into consideration the resignation of Marquez, we can see the difference between what writers dream to write about, and what they can actually achieve. Poems resemble their writers; haven’t we agreed that poets imagine their poems as made of flesh and blood?