Επιμέλεια: Εύα Πετροπούλου Λιανού
First Journey Towards Gilgamesh ِ
Written by Wafaa Abdul-Razzaq
Translated by: Hamid Khudhair Al-Shammari
Wafaa Abdul-Razzaq – born in Iraq – Basra (Wafaa Razaq Mohammed)
– United Kingdom – London.
– Poet, storyteller and novelist.
*- President and founder of the International Organization of Creativity for Peace, (IOCP), London, 2016.
The IOCP is recognized by:
*- UN PARTNER PORTAL.2023.
• British Board, London, Britain, 2022
• United Nations Global Markets, 2022
• European Commission Funding and trending 2022.
• Global Heritage Centre, UNESCO, 2022
• European Union Global Gateway, 2022
• United Nations Sustainable Development, 2019
• Registered in Britain since inception in 2016.
*- Editor in Chief (“Vision of Peace Magazine” [in Arabic language] London) for International Organization of Creativity for Peace, London 2021.
*- Supervisor of the arbitration committee for the Tilmeez Global Refereed Journal, Ministry of Higher Education (City of Jammu and Kashmir, India) 2022.
*- Chief Patron of Majalla “Qutuf al Hind” Journal. New Delhi 2022.
*- Quality Guide Ambassador, Belgium, 2020.
*- Honorary President of the Arar Media Foundation 2020
*-Nominated for the Nobel Prize by 2022 by Sorbonne University Paris 2022.
*-Nominated for the Nobel Prize by faculty member of Centre of Arabic & African Studies, Jawaharlal Nehru University India, 2022.
*- Nominated for the Asian International Excellence Awards Prizes 2021.
*-Nominated for the Nobel Prize by faculty member of Centre of Arabic & African Studies, Jawaharlal Nehru University India 2022
Where are you going, Gilgamesh?
The heaven that did not
confess the mistakes of earth
believed in you
so where are you going, Gilgamesh?
The four winds do not spread life
So leave your garment
I was about to be absent.
I submitted my days to your face
I have three compartments:
Departure departure and departure
Plowed by departure.
Where are you going, Gilgamesh?
From loneliness clutched to soul
To loneliness shut on you.
Lofty are the palm trees in you
And doves carried by water
Are farther than mad bewilderment
Deeper than defeat .
Lodge in your waves and be the sail.
The deed is white cataract
Where rowing becomes bigger.
Your skin is about to take off its star
An udder pierces its chest
Repeating sobbing .
I have a wolf like room
And three compartments
Weather as rejection
And dry fetus in the abdomens of rejection
And unread psalms.
wear your disposition and intoxicate with yourself
You are your Khidhr
And water is a copybook and a traveler
Your dimensions are the axe
That habituates
axes to astonishment.
And the secret bell
Between barrenness and pebbles
Has my token and kind embers .
Dwell huts.
Be the companion and reed
Wild reed
Be wild to her rendezvous
Be the loaf clamor.
Water did not ebb
So turn
Bless my forehead and drown.
Head for me
I will reveal my charms
Swarmed with its fire
As a yellow history did.
You are the resurrection
That was not existed
So do not call sin temptation
And the sin is prolonged relaxation.
Guide yourself and time like me
With the return cry.
I will be where you are
I am winged with palm trees
No one except me was a moon
And I
I am you
So where are you going Gilgamesh?
The touch of your steps enlightens the unknown places.
I know that the protruding wound is Euphrates
And you are obscure and tame.
So where are you going, Gilgamesh?
The lady of rib feels pain of the rib.
By your command
The heart baptized its blood
I became the call in you
And covered the mirrors
In order no to see my eyelash sweat
By another magician except you.
I draw you to a barren year
So years repeat in my mirror
I was still ridden by echo
I was still beautifying myself to the wind
Seeing the world as a bow.
And you are the plain wild
And the horizon wise
My firebrand is a forgotten rendezvous
It pillars its stature on it
And it weeps in the flank of laughter
And the Opening of the Book does not infiltrate to it.
How long do I imprison my water in my water
And gather me in a suspected bed
A star –cloud
That makes loss innocent?
You are innocent of me
I am innocent of hung stone
Of a breast wearing a woman garment
And dancing to a barren jar
Innocent of an elegy thread
And a nameless homeland
So leave my eyelashes
Since your shape departed them
They walked on my insomnia
As a paralyzed body
And farewell wave.
So where
Where are you going, Gilgamesh?
Where do I move away?
I was no longer the princess of vacancy.
