Adeeb Kamal Ad-Deen
Biography of Adeeb Kamal Ad-Deen
Adeeb Kamal Ad-Deen (Arabic: أديب كمال الدين) (born 1953) is an Iraqi Australian poet, journalist and translator writing in Arabic and in English.
Adeeb Kamal Ad-Deen studied Economics and English Literature at the Baghdad University and has a Diploma of Interpreting (Arabic-English) from the Adelaide Institute of TAFE in South Australia.
He has published 14 poetry collections and won the major prize of Iraqi poetry in 1999. His poetry has been translated into many languages and reviewed by many Iraqi and Arabic critics and published in Man of Letters: 33 critics write about Adeeb Kamal Ad-Deen's poetry (edited by Dr. Migdad Rahim). On the same subject, the Syrian critic Dr. Saleh Arrazzouk has published his book The Social and Knowledgeable Matter in Adeeb Kamal Ad-Deen's Poetry, and the Tunisian critic Dr. Hayet Khyari published her book Add a Letter N.
As a translator, he has translated into Arabic short stories and poems from Australia, Japan, New Zealand, China and the United States.
Adeeb Kamal Ad-Deen lives in Australia as an Australian citizen. He has been a guest at Friendly Street Poets in Adelaide in 2004 and at the Gallery de la Catessen in Adelaide in 2006 and at South Australian writers' centre in 2012. Some of his poems have been published in The Best Australian Poems 2007 (edited by Peter Rose), The Best Australian Poems 2012" (edited by John Tranter) and in Southerly, Meanjin among other magazines.
Adeeb Kamal Ad-Deen Poems
The rain has fallen drop by drop Wave by wave Sea by sea Until the sun has risen, dancing in its wonderful light.
Do not go further Than the children's table, Than the lofty joy's table, Than lofty date-palms,
The Head's Loneliness
In my height, I heard the sound of days, The days were as widows dressed in black. In my paleness, I heard the guard's voice
The kiss is a she-gazelle. The date is two eyes, a sahara and a gun. The kiss is a love poem. The date is a stab in the belly.
The sea is a cruel father Who deliberately frightens me with a knife. The sea is false dates And vague signals of glow and moaning.
The superstition has expended To comprise all of us, all of us. The fancy-dress party has been completed. You, my sharp letter, and I have chosen
An Attempt To Await
Which awaits which? Does the sun await the street? Or does the street await the people: The simpletons and the beggars?
An Attempt At Madness
The moon is at the door Hung by its feet. Everybody became self-sufficient As a cut string.
Time Runs, Time Drowns
Time runs, runs As a thief hunted by a policeman Drawing his big gun. Time drowns
Whenever I want to drink from the glass The glass of poison As Socrates did. I remember you
My losses are no longer unbearable. No sooner do I come out of a loss Then I fall into another. I - for example - died, Died a long time ago
The letter dropped And the age walking on one crutch was lost, Dropped and lost, Lost and slipped Slipped and annihilated,
The Past Of Meaning
The past came at the white dawn Wearing a soiled hat And a black dress. The past came to streets that it knows As a woman knows her hoopoe
An Attempt At Eulogy
At forty years old In the fortieth year I sat at the door of a dream. The dream was as lean as a lost date As good as Bedouin fire.
An Attempt At Eulogy
At forty years old
In the fortieth year
I sat at the door of a dream.
The dream was as lean as a lost date
As good as Bedouin fire.
The playing cards were showing its picture
With or without a crown
In a formal uniform or with ‘iqal* on head.
I became aware of its silence.