'Nation of Poets' | Discussions on Somali literature, poets and poetry | Historic and modern

[juzme123]

^ This is the poem he himself penned at the time when the poem Suldaan Timocadde passed away and it is as ascribable to him now as it to Suldaan Timocadde then.

Geeriyeey xishoodlaay
Xejiyaay fogeeyaay
Xaasha e af tahanimo
Hadii uu xabaal galay

Abwaankii xidigin jiray
Murtidii xag loo dayo
Xulashada ahayd iyo
Xarragada higaadii

Ayaa xarafkii hoos dhabi?
Faraskii xiddeysnaa
xakami ayaa sudhi?

Codkiisi xarraankiyo
Kamadhnaa xabeebtee
Xuli jiray wadnahayee
Wixii xay ah daayoo
Xawaalada gilgili jiray

Xaraka sawki tiri jiray
Geelana xasilin jiray
Xakab go'ay hadduu yahay
Xaaddaydi yaa kicin?

Gabaygii xalaashiyo
Xaqa sheeg ha joogtee
Dan ku xeeban jirin ee
Xeelli-hadal ku caan baxay

Mabda' aan la xadi jirin
Suugaanta xaramka ah
Xurmadeedii yaa marin?

Xayndaabkii maansada
Geerida xasaysaay
Hadaad jebisay xeerkii
Anna damac xasuuseed
Adna dan iyo xeeshaa
Waa xabag cadaadeed.

[juzme123]

Here is another poem by Gaarriye, may he RIP.

Fad Galbeed

Gabbal-dhaca cadceed-yahay
U sii faano-guratee
Casar gaaban liiqii
Godka weeraraysaa!
Go'e fuley miyaad tahay?
Waa maxay garmaamadu?

Ma googooska sagalkiyo
Gamasyada shucaacaa,
Gaade kaa horreeyiyo
Gurigaad ku hoyan layd
War ku gubay ka soo direy?

Mise gabadhan dhoolkiyo
Gu'goo shaalka xaytiyo
Fad galbeed la moodaa,
Kolkaad gelin is-dhugateen
Guluubkaagii shiikhoo
Dib-u guradku waa baqe?

Mise ganac-jabkaagiyo
Waxaad galabta mudataad
Intay goori goor tahay,
Dayax soo lug-gu'i laa
Sii war-geli is-leedahay?

Gedgeddoonka hirarkee
Iyagoo garaaro leh,
Gaatin-socodka laafyaha
Xarragada u gaarka ah
Goonyahaaga tiiciyo,
Gaardiga daruuraha
Kugu gaaf-wareegee,
Gumucaad ridaysiyo
Goolli-baadh fallaadhaha,
Shafka kaga garaacdee
Isu rogay guduudkee,

Dhiiggooda gobo'liyo
Giirgiirka caadka leh,
Ku sibbaaqday guudkiyo
Gara-saar-dabtoodii
Maxaa maanta gaasirey?
Miyay kugu giriifeen?

Mise waxay ka giigeen
Gobaad haybaddeediyo,
Gantaalaha jacaylkiyo
Kalgacaylka beereey
Indhaheedu ganayaan?

Afartaa siddiri-gam
Waxaan gocanayaa weli,

Tiiyoo gareyskiyo
Marta debec u gunuddoo
Guranaysa hoobaan,
Oo aan geyaankeed
Geesaha ka filanayn

Dabayshii gadoodee
Uurkayga garatee
Gaadmada ku qaaddee,
Gosha iyo horaadkiyo
Gaaddada u faydiyo,
Garba-duubka maraday
Durba "geb" isku siisiyo,
Gabbashada xishoodka ah
Gorodday lulaysiyo
Ugubnimo-gandoodkii.

[juzme123]

Maxamed Xaashi Dhamac 'Gaarriye'

Maxamed Xaashi Dhamac 'Gaarriye', born in Hargeysa in 1949, was a poet, playwright, author, scholar and philosopher. He attended school in Sheikh and then graduated in biology from the Somali National University, following which he worked as a teacher for several years. As a keen poet and literary scholar also he later worked at the Academy of Culture in Mogadishu and then as a lecturer in Somali literature at National University.

Since the 1970s Gaarriye has been universally regarded as one of the most important Somali poets composing on a great variety of topics from nuclear weapons to Nelson Mandela. In addition to his poetry, Gaarriye was among the scholars who articulated the metrical patterns of Somali poetry; he published in 1976 a number of articles in the national newspaper of the time. This work was invaluable and a major intellectual achievement.

[juzme123]

Mandela
by Maxamed Xaashi Dhamac 'Gaarriye'


The poem is under my hand.
The images crowd my head.
Poetry is the way
To get this story told.
Poetry has the strength
To tell the story well,
As long as the images hold,
As long as the poem writes.

The Oppressor comes into court.
He is the Prosecutor,
He is the Judge and Jury;
There is no ‘win or lose' -
The case is cut and dried.

The Defendant stands alone.
The Prosecutor calls
Himself as Witness - yes,
The Judge upholds the law
That he himself created:
It changes as he chooses.
The Jury only knows
One word - the word is ‘Guilty'.

This poem is a gun.
This poem's an assassin.
Images mob my mind...
This pen's a spear, a knife,
A branding-iron, an arrow
Tipped with righteous anger.
It writes with blood and bile.

I take this bitter ink,
Blood-red, to make my mark;
Corruption from the wound,
Sap from the poison-tree,
Aloe and gall and myrrh.

This poem's a loaded gun,
This verse a Kalashnikov.
I aim it at the snake
That slithers to our children
And strikes! See where the tell-tale
Blood-beads pearl on the skin.
The snake, the Prosecutor,
The Oppressor, the Judge, the Jury -
You must always aim for the head.

This poem is a gun
And words are ammunition.

This poem tells a story
That can't be cut or censored.

This poem's not up for sale,
It can't be bought as men
And cattle can be bought,
So don't make me an offer,
Put your money back
In your purse... But you can listen,
Everyone can listen,
Not just the great and good,
Not just Nelson Mandela.

Judge and Jury, listen!
Prosecutor, listen!
Policeman, come and listen!
Turnkey, come and listen!
You who perjure, listen!
You who torture, listen!

I want you to hear this poem;
I want you to hear me speak
As if I were Mandela.
I speak for him - Mandela.
I speak for an angry man,
A man whose voice was stopped,
A man whose mouth was gagged
Because he once said, ‘No!'
‘No!' to the Prosecutor,
‘No!' to the Judge and Jury,
‘No!' to injustice, ‘No!'
To indignity and oppression.

He says, ‘Don't think I'm beaten;
Don't think of me as weak
Or wretched. I'm no slave.
I'm not destitute
Although they stole from me.
I'm not without a home
Although my land's been taken.
Don't pity me; don't tell me
I'll have my chance at glory.

Didn't Jesus ask us
To turn the other cheek
And give the Fool who slaps us
Another chance to show us
Just how much he hates us?
And if that Fool should kill me:
Tell me, who's the victor?

He thinks of me, that man,
As someone who has no one:
No friends, no family,
No allies, no supporters.
He cannot see the circle -
Right round the globe - of people,
All races, colours, creeds,
Calling out for justice.
If I say I'm hungry
I mean hungry for justice.
If I say I'm hog-tied
I mean hog-tied by lies.
If I say I'm blind,
I'm blind to compromise.

If I say an angel
Stands at my right shoulder
I mean ‘Angel of Death',
I mean ‘Death in Disguise'.

Everything I've suffered,
Everything I've dreamed of,
Are mine and mine alone.

The Judge and Jury know me.
They know what I have suffered.
They think that what I'm thinking
Is what they think I'm thinking.
It's not. If I say ‘Angel'
I mean Angel of Death.
I mean the Angel's shadow
That darkens all my thinking.

The brush they use to sweep
My thoughts out of the door
Is worn down to the shaft.
Only the thoughts are left.

The snake-bite and the blood-beads,
The blood-beads and the poison,
Are my immunity.

Once my sleep was dreamless,
Once my mind was blank;
Now my dreams are rich,
My every thought is clear.

Now I see a way -
A way others have taken;
It's called the Road to Freedom.

I want you to hear him speak:
Hear Mandela's wisdom.
Listen, all who hear me,
All who think as I do.
Abu Hadra - hear me!
Poet and friend, now listen!
I know you'll understand.

This poem's a ransom-note,
Blood-money to the many
Who cry aloud for justice.
It's payback to Mandela
And everything he stands for
And everyone he speaks for.

This poem has a blade
Hidden at its heart.
That steel will last forever!

So listen, Abu Hadra!
If you will listen, others
Will listen too, will hear
The words as if Mandela
Was calling them to arms.
They'll grasp the blade that's hidden
Deep inside this poem;
They'll show the Jude and Jury
The cutting-edge of freedom;
They'll show the Prosecutor
The blade that lasts forever;
They'll never bow their heads
Or walk in chains and fetters.

This poem is a mirror
I've made for us, Hadraawi,
A mirror we can hold up
To show the ignoramus
The depth of self-deception
That lies in his reflection;
To show the Judge and Jury
How the wide world sees them;
To show the man who takes
Pleasure in pain the guern
Of glee that warps his smile.

Hadraawi, read this poem
To anyone who'll listen.
Help them to find the voice
I've given to Mandela.
And tell them this: our purpose
Is peace; our password ‘Freedom';
Our aim, equality;
Our way the way of light.

[juzme123]

A to Z
by Maxamed Xaashi Dhamac 'Gaarriye'

Caalin, listen, I'm going to travel
From A to Z carried by language -
The alphabet, alive on the page.

I write the words and send them to you;
You sing to the wind and the crows as they fly
Carry my lines through the noonday sky
Chanting each to each. The ants
Become orators. The gossiping camels
Crowd the waterhole, eager for rumours.

Even the trees, as they rustle their leaves,
Are sharing a joke; the sheep and goats
Talk tough as they sniff out the latest news.
The hum of the breeze in the river-bed
Is the language of pride; the termites talk
With a tap and a touch; the clouds compose
Poems as only they can; the land
Speaks in prose of growth and gain
And the sound of rain in the season of rain
Rumbles like thunder and why this should be
Is something only the rain can explain.

I write these words and send them to you
To let you know that we live through language.
Without it - deformity, ugliness, illness;
Without it - no anchor for culture; without it
No making of maps, no naming of nations.

A man might boast of property, money,
Position, but if he's unable to write
He's a pauper. Caalin, listen, your pen
Is your wealth, you're less than nothing without it.

Ask the old Gods how our culture has grown.
Think back to the time when our language suffered
One onslaught after the other: invasions,
Armies crossing our borders, the songs
Our fathers once sang destroyed or derided,
Our epics fading in memory, even
Our idioms gradually losing their meanings.

Every lost syllable tells in my heartbeat,
Every lost line is a scar on my heart.
Poems go hand-over-hand to create
A chain of wisdom, a chain that goes
From strength to strength; when this was shattered,
When our chain of poems was broken and scattered,
We were left with nothing but fragments, nothing
But scraps of wisdom - our inheritance
Nothing more than a handful of images.

Our story - a story so ancient that only
The Old Gods recall it - was gone forever.
Our children will never recover that wisdom:
Our legends and myths and the words of the prophets...

Remember the time when a man from the north
Wrote a letter received by a man from the south
And the second man threw the letter away,
Since the first man's language was foreign to him?

Remember the time when a camel was owned
By two men who needed to talk things through,
So a third man came in as interpreter?

Remember how politicians decided
To give us a written language? Remember
The fighting and feuding, the shouting and swearing?
Ten years went by with nothing decided
Until someone in power said, ‘Latin!' and then
Somalia sat down and uncapped its pen.

I dreamed of that day! The pen and the page -
A poet's stock-in-trade. The choice
Finally made. The alphabet
Taking the first few steps of a journey
And never looking back. A new age
Of wisdom in poetry, yes, a new
Tradition! Go, now, and wake Sayid -
Give him the news, tell all the great
Poets our language lives again,
And this time written to last in lines
That can't be lost or thrown away.

Caalin, write lyrics, write epics, write verse
That beats in the brain and tells on the pulse;
Write poems of love, write poems that show
How myths can revive and language grow.

Enough! I've written all that I need
To write, except to praise the men
Who talked the language into being -
Statesmen, thinkers, poets, who gave
Somali poets a new way with words.
We could raise a statue to them and set it
Above the image of Jupiter...
Or perhaps we should honour them in poems
That use all the letters from A to Z.

[juzme123]

Arrogance
by Maxamed Xaashi Dhamac 'Gaarriye'

Wandered brood of Adam,
lost, bewildered people,
hear what I have to say.

Stop for a moment before the mountains
and for the simple sake of awe
be humbled, let your tears fall.

Look to, look through the air above,
be moved by the sight of stars,
watch their bodies wheel.

Ask the thunder, see what lightning says,
the rain-bearing wind which blows
the good grey cloud, ask them.

The camel's old keen for her calf,
be hushed and hear it, hear how
the birds' song weeps with it: weep with them too.

How the sea sounds out its old chorus,
what moves in its abyssal womb:
acknowledge these and what they mean.

Examine the earth at your feet,
the rush of the rivers,
raise your eyes to the clouds.

Glimpse what lies above
the auroral mist, the winds,
understand what these things have to say.

The scent of wild acacia -
inhale it, relish it, and
delight in the green of pastures.

Count up the lineage of all life,
mark the endless days and days:
this worthless arrogance of yours,
you have to let it go.

All nebulae and galaxies,
the Camel of the Southern Cross,
our own burning sun, who said these
were lit for humankind?

Before a man was made in this world
didn't Virgo blaze above?
Aren't all those gatherings of stars
far older than us?
Since when was their high light
kindled only for you?

Exactly when do you think the heavens
were told to carry out the order
‘Confine yourselves to the human race'?
If you simply ceased to be
wouldn't their light continue?
Wouldn't it be then as it is now?

Wandered brood of Adam,
your bluster is a lie.
You shared this womb with all
wild things that roam,
all roots that flourish,
you entered this world together.

All creation is your cousin,
each creature your equal
and you share an ancestor:
all living things are to you
as stick is to bark, bark to stick.
You and they are like two eyes -
when one sheds tears
the other weeps.
They were not made for you alone,
nor were they created to serve.

Of everything which is, half is secret -
however things appear
the meaning is always deeper.

[juzme123]

She
by Maxamed Xaashi Dhamac 'Gaarriye'

Is she milk, is she more, is she buttermilk?
Is she bread, is she bread and milk, is she?
Would you say she's good luck? Would you say
She's a riddle, or maybe the answer?
Is she kindness or thought when it's solemn?
Is she thought, is she more - an idea?

Is she clouds that give rain, clouds that gather,
Clouds that bless, clouds that crowd, clouds that linger?
Would you say she's good luck, would you say
She's the pattern of stars struck at nightfall
When the day will bring cloudwrack and rainfall?

Would you say she's green growth in the rainfall?
Would you say she's the sun in the morning
That soaks up the dew, that disperses
The mist? Is she water that gathers
In pools after rain? Is she moonlight
Reflected in pools? Is she starlight
So bright when it floods with the moonlight
That you're blind to the land that you stand on?

Would you say she's green growth that the rainfall
Has washed and made sweet? Is she water
That lies on the land like a blessing?
Is she herself sweet, is she shapely?
Is her sweetness the perfume of water?

Is she beautiful, thoughtful and clever?
Does she live as she should? Does she honour
The qualities womanhood stands for?

You can see she's not weak and not foolish;
You can see she's not lazy and sluttish,
Not stubborn or sloppy or rowdy,
Neither a shrew nor a nag, she's
A woman who keeps a full larder,
A woman who'd greet you and feed you.

She's the lie of the stars that brings rainfall,
Not the set of the stars that brings drought to
The lie of the land that you stand on.

She's not fat, she's not thin, she is perfect.
She is modest - she dresses discreetly -
But it's clear that her body is perfect.

Oh, Cabdi, you see her as I do -
The way that she sways as she walks is
The reason I call her Catiya,
Catiya, whose walk is a rhythm
That chimes with my heart when I see her.

In the evening, she brushes her hair from
The crown to the tip and the breeze lifts
Each strand, so the eyes of the young men
Follow the stroke and the windblown
Hair as it catches the last of
The sun as it sets and makes firebrands,
Black but shot through with the sunset.

The colour of Catiya's skin is
The colour that all women envy.
Her eyes, soft and brown, are the eyes of
The desert gazelle, while her nose is
Perfectly straight and her gums are
Black, black as charcoal. Oh, Cabdi,
The white of her teeth and the down on
Her cheek! Can you see how her waistline
Is curved like a spear; can you see how
Her arms make an elegant shape in
The air as she moves, how her calves flex,
How her neck, with its dapple of amber,
Lightly creases: the neck of a Houri.

There is nothing to fault in this woman,
Not a flaw to be found in her beauty.
She is never impatient or angry;
She never complains. Could you weary
Of a woman like that? She could never
Lie or be troublesome. No one
Ever spoke ill of this women:
Her soft speech, her quick mind, her modest
Way in the world - this young woman
Whose future, I know, will be brighter
By far than the star of the evening.

[Waaberi]

Does anyone know the story and poetry of the Waqooyi poet who died from love during 20th century. I believe that there was also a lady from Erigavo who as also a poet and also died from unrequited love. someone told them their stories and poetry are legendary in Northern Somalia.

[juzme123]

Originally Posted by Waaberi

Does anyone know the story and poetry of the Waqooyi poet who died from love during 20th century. I believe that there was also a lady from Erigavo who as also a poet and also died from unrequited love. someone told them their stories and poetry are legendary in Northern Somalia.

You are talking about the real-life story and poems of Cilmi Boodhari and Hodan which took place sometime in the 1800-1900's; these stories and poems were/are also taught in Somali liturate/language classes as part of the national curriculum. Seperat from those, there is also the story told by Faarax M. J. Cawl (Ignorance is the enemy of Love).

The famous litarary stories and poems of Cilmi Boodhari and Hodan go as follows. Cilmi was a baker and poem in the port town of Berbera and Hodan, his customer, was the daughter of a wealthy family. Hodan came to his shop once to buy goods, on a day that their servants/workers for some reason couldn't. He conversed with Hodan and apparently it was love at first sight as Cilmi fell in love with her. He could not forget her and asked around the town and found out who she was. He courted over a period of weeks and months. He would sneak to go see her and deliver his poems and songs to her and to which also responded. It is mostly these poems and songs that make up the anthology/divan of Cilmi Boodhari and Hodan. However, her wealthy family, having heard of what was happening and wanting to avoid the marriage of their daughter to a baker, arranged for their daughter to marry a wealthy businessman of Berbera. When cilmi heard oft eh impeding marriage he poems and messages became more urgent and sorrowful and he became ill - he was convinced he was sick with love. He would send people to her to convey his messages/poems. I think that Hodan also responded to him, telling him she could not defy her parents. On his deathbed he asked one last time for Hodan and his family members, convinced that he was by some bizarre miracle, sick with love, pleaded for her to come to him, that she might help him recover. Either he died as she was underway which im confident was the narrative, or he died having spent the last few days of his life reciting/composing new poem after new poem. The poems and stories were famous in the Somali peninsula and thus they ended up in the national Somali school curriculum.

I cant remember the whole story but it was along those lines.

Here is one poem:

The Messenger
BY: Ilmi Boodheri

Winds that possess the power of speech
Are something new in this world, perhaps,
But you must swear to me, O wind, by the Everlasting One
That you will receive the impress of my words!

Indeed I would have gone to the sailing ships
And handed them my letters in a packet
But ships may tarry on their journeys
And nights may pass before they come to port.

So it is you, O Wind, whom I have chosen,
You who have the speed that I demand.
Swear to me then by the Everlasting One
That you will receive the impress of my words!

You pass above the ground,
Above the settlements of men,
Never resting, you run and run
As if sent by God on everlasting errands.

Weariness is not for you,
It is only the living whose breath gives out.
I have heard that other men have stepped forward
To claim the girl on whom my mind was set -
Wind, swear to me by the Everlasting One
That you will carry my words through the air!

Daaroole is where I found my solace,
That is the place that you must find,
And nothing must stop you -
Not bad roads, nor screens of matting.

Muuse knows the country well
And he knows where she is to be found.
There is a man who looks at her admiringly -
O this world is a precipitous mountain path!

Tell her that stone houses and walls would have felt the pain
Tell her that termite hills would have sprouted green grass
If they had but heard these words of mine!

[juzme123]

Cirkoo Dam Ah
BY: Saalax Maxamed

Allahayoow Cirkoo Dam Ah,
Ayaad Dacal Ka Faydaaye.
Markaasaa Shamsadu Daalacdaa,
Dunidu Nuurtaaye.
Allahoow Dalkoo Oomman,
Baad dixo Biyaysaaye.
Markaasaa Dugaag Iyo
Dadiyo Duunyo Ka Cabbaane.
Allahayoow Cirkoo Diiran Baad,
Caad Ku Dadabtaaye.
Markaasuu Daruur Culus Helaa,
Di'idna Yeeshaaye.
Oo Ay Dareemada Dhulkiyo,
Dixidu Baacdaaye.

Allahayoow Mid Duunyo Yar,
Ayaad Darajo Siisaaye.
Markaasaa La Daba Shaanbiyaa
Doobab Iyo Beele.
Alahayoow Mid Daadduumayaad,
Duni u dhiibtaaye.
Markaasuu Ka Diihaal Baxaa
Deeqna Hidiyaaye.
Allahayow Mid dawga Dhaafayaad,
Ku camirtaa diine.
Markaasaa Duunuubtuu Iskaga Rogo
Uga Danbaysaaye.

Deeqdana Adaa Wada hantee
Darajo noo yeele.
Allahayoow Kan Loo Dayriyiyo,
Hayga Dhigin Daallin.
Oo ducada ii qaad sidaan,
Kaa dalbaday Caawa.

[juzme123]

Baaq
BY: Hadraawi

Adigaan cirka u bixin,
Ama boodin leexada
Ama badaha waaweyn
Nafta aan ku biimayn
Baariis adaan tegin
Ama Boon ka sheekayn
Barashada dhulkaaga
Horto laga bogtaayoo
Beryo laysku hawlaa.

Dhulku baaxad sooriyo
Banaan miidhan weeyaan
Ama waa bus iyo oon
Ninka buug haystow
Beentaada weeyaan.

Balcad, Jawhar, Shalambood,
Baraakada Qoryooley,
Waxa canab bislaadee
Baydhabi u gaar tahay
Boosaaso iyo Beer
Biixin duule Laalays,
Biyo guure Kalabaydh,
Beeraha Wajaale
Lagu reebay baahida,
Baardheere iyo Jilib,
Waa boqol kun oo mayl
Dhulka lagu badhaadhee
Beeyadu ku taallee
Badar lagu abuuree
Lagu riday bariiskee
Balka lagu tallaalee
Muuskiyo babaygii
Barkadeen xareeddoo.

Waxa taa ka sii badan
Dhulka beri-samaadkii
Beesheennu daaqdee
Barta aynu dhawannaa
Baryo dhereg ka joogtee,
Iyadoo barwaaqo ah
Balliyada xareeddii
ku bariisanaayoo
Bidix midig dhan loo dayo
Barigiyo galbeedkaba
Buuruhu
ishaystaan
Waaberi cadceeddii
Soo saartay Baallaha
Bilcilkiyo maraagi
Shimbirihi bulxamayaan
Idhihii basaasow
Boorama ma aragteen?

Ma ogtahay barbaareey,
Heesaha Barawo tumo
Adigaan bogga u lulin
Beerrey Kabeebeey
Bismilaahi Saylici
Hanna-haybsantii Bari
Batar iyo Wareegtada
Kuu baadi soocee.

Ma ogtahay barbaareey,
Huga maro Banaadiri
Saddex qayb bidhaantiyo
Bafto laba dhudoodaa
Kuu baadi soocee

Ma ogtahay barbaareey,
Barshin iyo darfooley
Bayluuli xaradhlaa
Ku baadi soocee.

[juzme123]

Maryan Mursal

Soomaali udiida ceeb

Soomaali u diida ceeb
Naftiina u diida cay
Dhulkeena dabeecadiisa
Micnaha daadku dhex qaado
Labada wabi ee dureera
Dalaga ciida u wanaagsan
Abuurkaa ku daadi weeyoo
Kheyraadka ka doono weeyee
Siduu geellu Hawd u daaqoo
Lo'duna u dinaahiyeeyso

Markad danyarteena eegto
Siday diiftu ugu taalo
Labadu is dabooli waayee
Dunidu way nagula yaabtey
Dunidu way nagula yaabway, way
Dadyow ku dadaala nabad

Soomaali u diida ceeb
Naftiina u diida cay

Dhulkeena dabeecadiisa
Dabayshi iyo cimiladiisa
Badweynta dhan ee ku deyran
Kaluunka daabalanaaya
Dubaaxdu siday u taalo
Siday macdantu u daniigto
Siduu adhigu u dareero
Ugaadhaa is daawaneysa way

Markad is dilkeene eegto
Dalkeena xasuuqidiisa
Labadu is dabooli waayee!!
Dunidu way nagula yaabtey!!
Dadyahow dadyahow!
Ku dadaala nabad!!

Soomaali u diida ceeb
Naftiina u diida cay

[Constantine MMX]

Nice Somali cipher, the brothers and sisters go hard, the low point is the shout-out-tupac-iskusheeg dude, but the little girl killed it

[juzme123]

Some of the outdoor stalls at the Hargeisa international book fair.

[juzme123]

The lyrics to the song "Gumeysiga Sirtiisa".

Maba aysan garanin
Gumeysiga sirtiisii
Goboladii Dhulkeenii
Hadba qolo loo koobay
Garyaqaanku waa kuma?
Yaa gooyay go'aankani?!

Maamulaan gob aheen
Yaa guudka saartay?
Af-gamashle taagteen
Gamuunkeyga iska day
Geesiyadii Soomaaliyeed
Geeri weey u huri tani
Galab aan dheereyn
Gacan bay idinku qaban!

Garaad laawayaashaan
Gobanimada ka door-biday
Gasiin Eebe idiin qorin
Si xun looma koobee
Qarankeena gadan(/iibsan) meysaan!
Dhallintaa u kobacday!

Maamulaan gob aheen
Yaa guudka saartay?
Af-gamashle taagteen
Gamuunkeyga iska day
Geesiyadii Soomaaliyeed
Geeri weey u huri tani
Galab aan dheereyn
Gacan bay idinku qaban!

Written By: Abdirahman Orfane.

[Sideway]

Waxeyba iila ekaatey in gabaygaas loola jeeday Ina Iley

[juzme123]

Nice video, not a style of poetry I personally like, but good on them it seems they are enjoying themselves

Originally Posted by Constantine MMX

Nice Somali cipher, the brothers and sisters go hard, the low point is the shout-out-tupac-iskusheeg dude, but the little girl killed it

[juzme123]

Somali poetry is traditionally recited in a rythmic style. This thought provoking poem is called: "The world is a tree's shadow".

[juzme123]

Here is an interesting website, its called Poetic Nation and below is a short description.



http://www.thepoetnation.com/

Poet Nation is a Somali art and culture hub that engages youth from around the world through poetry, music and story-telling.

The Goal of Poet Nation is to be a platform for positive conversation that promotes peace, harmony and traditional Somali values to the modern generation. We are good news in the Somali community.

The Poet Nation website features a mix of original and user generated content from around the world.

[juzme123]

Casiisoow Waa Mahadaa

BY: C/laahi Suldaan “Timacadde”.

Geeraar waa igu ceegoo
Waa igu ciiddan Dubaarroo
Waa ii caanaha geeloo
Way cir horey i diraacoo
Way caleenta dhiraaye

Ilaahii cirka taagaye
Dayaxiiyo cadceeddiyo
Xiddigaah ku cigaalayow

Ilaahii Caadil ahaaye
Dhulka caynkan u daadshaye
Ku culaysiyey buurto e
Isagoon cidi joogin
Casiiskii Nebi Aadan
Ka abuuray cammuuddo e
Cidhifkaa bidixdiisa
Intuu caaro ka jeemay
Cadki Xaawa ka yeelayow

Ilaahi Caadil ahaaye
Ciyaarsiiyay buxuurto e
Ceejiyee amar siiyayow

Casiiskiisi Suleymaan
Dabayshau carbiyayow

Ilaahii Nebi Ciise
Cilmigiisa ku qaadaye
Cashaduu iman doonana
Cawar seef ugu dhiibayow

Casiiskiisi Ayuub
Cudurkii uu ku raajay
Marki uu caban waayey
Caafimaad ugu doorshaye
Curuuqdiisii dhammaatiyo
Raxmaddii ku dul caastay
Cimrigoodi yareeyaye
Cusbeysiiyey jidhkoodo e
Caruusiinta ka yeelayow

Casiiskii Nebi Yuusuf
Caruurtuu la dhashoy e
U kaxaystay cayaarta
Markay ceel ku rideen
Ciidan oomman u keenayee
Uga saaray Cajuula

Casiiskiisi Nebi Luud
Kuwii caasi gareeyay
Amaba ceebta yiqiinnay
Habeen cawda u gooyayow

Ilaahi carshigiisa
Cashadii miciraajka
Sallalaahu calayhi
Wa calaa ahlu baytihi
Mustafaha ku casuumayow

Ilaahi Caadil ahaaye
Cabdihiisa ahaynow
Waxba kuu caban mayno e
Adigaa Caalimul-qaybo e
Wax badan baan cudcudnaynoo
Kufaartii cadcaddayd iyo
Col kaloo madmadow oy
Isu caynad yahiinniyo
Isticmaar na cunaayayoo
Carradaad nagu beertay
Cashuur baan bixinaynayoo
Cidhiidhaan ku jiraynayo
Cunahay na hayeeno
Cadkii wuu na dhamaadaye
Imaankoon cawarrayn iyo
Cidaamkaa na fayoobe
Calankaan ku su’aalliyo
Cizigii la socday
Haddaad caawa na siisay
Casiisow waa mahaddaa