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# Birth (Al-Maulid)
- URL: https://www.merip.org/1988/07/birth-al-maulid/
- Published: 1988-07-16T01:25:48.000Z
- Updated: 2025-07-29T12:35:06.000Z
- Description: BIRTH (AL-MAULID) Muhammad al-Mahdi al-Majdhoub (1921-1982) Hand on the Prophet, God Help and support me with him who speaks for the people on Judgment Day -- with him who drinks pure water from al-Kauthar, Paradise river. On the square’s other side clear light spreads a rainbow of hope and jo
- Author: Muhammad al-Mahdi al-Majdhoub
- Tags: MER Article, Poetry, Sudan, #wp, #wp-post, Issue 153, #Special Reports

Hand on the Prophet, God  
Help and support me with him  
who speaks for the people  
on Judgment Day --  
with him who drinks pure water  
from al-Kauthar, Paradise river.

On the square’s other side  
clear light spreads  
a rainbow of hope and joy,  
a spring flowing through  
the darkness of night,  
dance driving souls here  
slowly one moment,  
another faster than breath!

Here a girl dark as  
the shadows her veil draws  
sways on young hips  
shyly, modestly, possibly  
saying hello, calling you  
with the fringe of her *thaub*  
In chains, she is free,  
in harmony, she is chaos.

But see there,  
that pretty Maulid candy doll  
vendors hawk, that princess  
robed in hue of every color  
A little thing, but how pretty!  
Braced there on her throne  
in the carnival high above  
islands of sweets,  
that seem to the eye  
mythical treasures of imaginary pearls.

Though she does not  
her downcast eyes speak!  
Children turn around her,  
dark eyes glinting rainbows  
beam their hopes for her,  
joyfully misted in tears.  
God! How their poverty wastes them!  
The tiny children who come here  
on Your Prophet’s Birthday,  
longing for joy, but went home,  
taste of dust in their mouths.  
Weep for the mother  
who’d give them stars  
if they asked! Yes,  
weep for her:  
she carries nights without sleep  
all through the brightness of the day.  
God! You sent an orphan child  
into the world to stand up  
for the right, for what is just.  
He was kind to us,  
we remember him tonight.  
Aren’t we here to honor in mind  
all those without a thing in the world?  
In the people’s market on the other side  
of the square there’s trumpet and drum  
shouting up hunger and its cure,  
a tiny kingdom revolving  
around its famous kettle of stew  
which grabs our eyes  
and steals away thought:  
and why not? tell me,  
pleasure of the night  
mistress of attraction?  
From where he stands  
the stall-owner looks around,  
a barker, a pitchman,  
at the huge crowd  
sniffing up the meat smoke  
whirling from his fiery grill:  
O! a flame that found  
none of us disobedient when it  
called us to the dinner  
it laid in our thoughts.

All around king chef  
stately braziers fumed,  
putting up with skewers  
strung with meat cubes,  
fat and dripping.  
It was a kitchen  
we’d entered  
busier, noisier  
than a prince’s court,  
its substantial owner  
so full of good wit  
one circle of diners  
after another visited him.  
We ate and were at peace,  
we drank and felt so full  
eating and drinking  
no longer made sense.  
Then we left and walked,  
sleep dragging at our heels  
if only we felt like this always,  
how we'd thank fate!  
And so the night went by;  
bed called me and I obeyed,  
leaving feasting behind,  
and the thousands who hoped  
for life’s full food:  
but no rains came,  
each soul faint,  
thirsty in the dust.

Echo recalled distant drums  
like a crying child  
all alone at night.  
A snatch of song flew into my ear,  
in the darkness already signifying  
new dawn on the horizon,  
new promises coming true tomorrow!  
In my Muslim land, God,  
we have returned to You;  
depending, O my God, solely on You,  
we remember tonight the Chosen Guide  
who filled our spirit  
with his purity and patience.  
Hand on the Prophet, God,  
look not upon my sins  
but help me to greater repentance!

The poem is excerpted from “Birth” (*Al-Maulid*), by Sudanese poet Muhammad al-Mahdi al-Majdhoub. Translated by Salma Khadra Jayyusi and Charles Doria in *Modern Arabic Poetry*, an anthology edited by Salma Khadra Jayyusi (Columbia University Press, 1987). Reprinted by permission.