Tuesday, March 8, 2011

Buy Campervan Scotland

BOQALA ... THE POETRY OF FORMER ALGERIAN WOMEN

The boqala is a rite of poetry a female rite of Algerian women, who gather around the jug (boqala) of the hostess, filled with water from seven different sources where every woman drops a piece of jewelry. At that point the pitcher starts to spin seven times in a brazier of incense.
And here comes the magic ... in turn, one after the other, reciting a short poem of no more than 5 lines that can be from an ancient tradition or to be improvised in front of classmates and the glass of full glass of mint tea. The boqala, poetry strictly female and urban, is anonymous and is rarely reported unless orally.
With hands I cut the meat with your hands
I sprinkled with spices and

ears have heard the slander of those who I have known.
oh you, gossip, what do you earn?
The lion in the forest without the dogs barking.
Between you and me a small window, the size of a glass
,
remain with us through our words, that has to do people?
Fame is like lead:
when it melted, you lose.

come from Smyrna, from the sea, we finally landed.
We carry the sign of the sultan, the
have read the Journal and the captain.
Rejoice, heart on hold, back
and rain-eyed envy of those who does not love us.
He passed a young man, a dark branch in his hands. The
Shashi fell well on the front of her dress was shining.
I would let my children and husband for him
my
abandoned town to be alien to my people.
Oh dark, dark sweet, that grace your dress,
you're among the jasmine and competes with the daffodils.
for you and then mocked me from envy.
You're the golden ring, I gem that adorns
to dispute your heart I'm ready to fight.
Love is in our house, we love the breed.
The well water sweet, love lifts. Opens
such as basil, love in its branches.
not enslaved the sultan nor the qadi.

WISHES WOMEN ....

0 comments:

Post a Comment