Words of Freedom
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Boujema El Aoufi's Page
Profile Information
- Hometown:
- Taza
- Stage or Page or Both
- Stage
- About Me:
- I will like to remain always the child that I was
J'aimerai toujours rester l'enfant que j'étais
أحب دائما أن أظل الطفل الذي كنته
Boujema El Aoufi was born in 1961 in Taza, Morocco. He is a poet, translator, and art critic. He began writing and publishing poems and articles in 1986. His early writings drew a lot on visionary and mythological material, but he later tried to depart from this tendency, and assume a “new poetry” posture characterized mainly by a concern with ordinary language, and everyday life.
El Aoufi is one of the essential voices in modern Moroccan poetry. He is not only a skillful poet and critic, but also an active and organic intellectual with a charismatic touch about him. He excels in organizing and managing poetry events, and is thus one of the most up-to-date knowledgeable people about literary life in modern-day Morocco. In 2001 he received the Shariqa award for Arab creative writing, offered by the ministry of culture and communication in UAE.
El Aoufi is a member of both the Union of Moroccan Writers, and the House of Poetry in Morocco. He published two books of poetry, Bayadat Shayiqa, Shariqa 2001, and Asdiqa’Yughadiruna Hunjurati, Rabat 2001
impression written by Noureddine Zouitni / Poet and Moroccan translator
Websites :
http://morocco.poetryinternationalweb.org/piw_cms/cms/cms_module/in...
http://alltimeisunredeemable.blogspot.com/search?q=boujema+el+aoufi
http://www.alnoor.se/author.asp?id=1435
http://www.doroob.com/?author=1104
http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=1294038425&ref=name
http://anassnet.free.fr/b_aoufi/asdiqaa.htm
الشاعر والناقد التشكيلي : بـوجمـعة الـعـوفي
BOUJEMA EL AOUFI
ـ من مواليد سنة 1961 بالمغرب
ـ إجازة في علم الاجتماع.
ـ دبلوم الدراسات العليا المعمقة ( تخصص مسرح ).
ـ بصدد تهيئ رسالة دكتوراه حول موضوع : " الخطاب البصري في الشعر المغربي المعاصر : من التعبير الخطي إلى القيمة التشكيلية " ( كلية الآداب والعلوم الإنسانية ـ ظهر المهراز ـ فاس ـ المغرب ).
ـ عــضو اتحـاد كـتاب المغرب. ـ الصفة : شاعر وناقد تشكيلي.
ـ عضو " بيت الشعر في المغرب "
ـ عضو الأنطولوجية العالمية للشعر The Book of Hope( لدعم منظمة اليونيسف ومركز أطفال أفغانستان ) صدرت عن دار النشر BEYOND BORDERS بأيسلندا سنة 2002.
ـ جائزة الشارقة للإبداع العربي في الشعر بالإمارات العربية المتحدة عن مجموعته الشعرية : " بياضات شيقة " ( الدورة الرابعة ـ 2001 ).
ـ جائزة " المبدعون " في النقد التشكيلي لدار الصدى بالإمارات العربية المتحدة ( 2001 /2002 ) عن كتابه : " التشكيل المغربي : أسئلة التجريب والهوية والأفق ".
ـ ساهم في كتاب : إشكاليات قصيدة النثر للشاعر عز الدين المناصرة ـ صدر ببيروت وعمان سنة 2002.
ـ ترجمت بعض قصائده إلى الإنجليزية والفرنسية والهولندية والبرتغالية ونشرت ببعض الأنطولوجيات العالمية للشعر وبمواقع عالمية للشعر على الإنترنت
ـ نشر العديد من الترجمات والمقالات الإبداعية والنقدية، والقصائد، والنصوص، والقراءات والدراسات في مجالي الأدب والفنون التشكيلية، بالعديد من الصحف والمجلات المغربية والعربية.
ــ شارك في العديد من الأمسيات واللقاءات والندوات والمناسبات الثقافية المغربية والعربية.
* صــــــــدر لـــــه :
ـ بياضات شـيقة : ( شعر ) : منشورات دائرة الثقافة والإعلام بالشارقة ـ دولة الإمارات العربية المتحدة ـ جائزة الشارقة للإبداع العربي في الشعر ـ الدورة الرابعة 2001 ).
ـ أصدقاء يغادرون حنجرتي ( شعر ) : منشورات وزارة الثقافة والاتصال ـ الرباط 2002.
ـ النقد التشكيلي بالمغرب بين القراءة والترجمة : تجربة حسن المنيعي ـ مطبعة أنفو برانت ـ فاس 2006.
ـ البياض يليق بسوزان ـ شعر ـ مطبعة أنفو برانت ـ فاس 2007.
* مخطوطات كتب معدة للنشر :
ـ هوامش لذاكرة العين ( الشعر والفوتوغرافيا ـ كتاب إبداعي )
ـ مقــامات ) الشعر والتشكيل ـ كتاب إبداعي )
ـ التشكيل العربي : أسئلة التجريب والهوية والأفق.
ـ صــورة الـكتـابة ( قراءات في تجارب كتابية مغربية ).
ـ مختارات لموريس بلانشو ونصوص أخرى ( ترجمة )
* الهاتف والبريد الإلكتروني :
الهاتف المحمول : 021260245203
ـ الفاكس : 36 55 28 35 0212
ـ العنوان الإلكتروني : e.boujema@gmail.com
ـ العنوان البريدي : ص.ب : 1065 تـازة المحطة ـ الرمز البريدي 35000 المملكة المغربية.
- Favorite Poet or Author:
- les plus profonds de vision et de style
the deepest of vision and style
الكتاب الأكثر عمقا في الرؤية والأسلوب
COLORED POEMS FOR TED HUGHS
COLORED POEMS FOR TED HUGHS
BOUJEMA EL AOUFI
The phantom of the house on the mountain:
Between us
Sorrow and poems
And a planet of delirium
I pull it backward a little
So that, elated, you cross
Towards your house on the mountain . . .
Between us
Flames
And grass
And a galaxy of women!
Each one
An entire forest!
From the height of her aching sign (Aries),
Two stars before evening-time,
Sylvia will descend
With “her black Spanish veil”,
Escorted by two boys and guards of the Babylonian temple,
Holding her dewy heart toward you,
She will suddenly cross like the magnificent North Star . . .
And her luminous hand will not ring the ‘door-bell’
As is your habit in handling her plain fear
At the very small hours,
Not because
No one there deserves to stand up to the visitor’s condition,
But for fear that your kindred blood
Fall prey to the famished wolves’ appetite!
Tonight
The rose of Buckingham died
Or the flower of metal
What difference?
As she kept reiterating in your final dream . . .
She went out
Even before
The prince noticed her vacant portrait
On the wall!
The poet alone understands the significance of pain
When, through his fingers, silence spreads out against the evening!
Eulogies for Sylvia Plath:
My love
Do you hear me reciting?
Songs about the green country and the ultimate journey?
And like the star of March I come bearing
The Zodiac pain, the witches’ moon, their passion . . .
I come dressed in the whiteness of the moment that proceeds
Crossing,
When the time – spans stuck on the dragon’s blood
Hang from the top of the throat . . .
And the Grey color edified all colors,
There shall we meet:
Between the line and its echo!
My love!
O thread of the fascinating twilight
Woven by desire in my limbs,
The red tiles
Over the roof of the ancient house
Will illuminate the forest in all directions,
And lead you towards the blue thresholds
Where the crowded spirits of the interior hall salute you . . .
There:
You and I
Climb
The spire of light
And the sound of the cathedral
Is no longer justified!
Portrait of rain
The rain’s portrait:
We used to surprise
In old note-books
And colored poems
And on the trees that crouch
Late at night
With the eyes of drunk swallows
And fingers that open onto the wilderness . . .
We remember it now on the edge of our secret passage-way
And wipe the remains of moisture
And seasons’ exile . . .
On the face of childhood
So that
We might by doing so:
Share the biography of water
Or
Change the shape of rain!
translates by:
Norddine Zouitn
BOUJEMA EL AOUFI
The phantom of the house on the mountain:
Between us
Sorrow and poems
And a planet of delirium
I pull it backward a little
So that, elated, you cross
Towards your house on the mountain . . .
Between us
Flames
And grass
And a galaxy of women!
Each one
An entire forest!
From the height of her aching sign (Aries),
Two stars before evening-time,
Sylvia will descend
With “her black Spanish veil”,
Escorted by two boys and guards of the Babylonian temple,
Holding her dewy heart toward you,
She will suddenly cross like the magnificent North Star . . .
And her luminous hand will not ring the ‘door-bell’
As is your habit in handling her plain fear
At the very small hours,
Not because
No one there deserves to stand up to the visitor’s condition,
But for fear that your kindred blood
Fall prey to the famished wolves’ appetite!
Tonight
The rose of Buckingham died
Or the flower of metal
What difference?
As she kept reiterating in your final dream . . .
She went out
Even before
The prince noticed her vacant portrait
On the wall!
The poet alone understands the significance of pain
When, through his fingers, silence spreads out against the evening!
Eulogies for Sylvia Plath:
My love
Do you hear me reciting?
Songs about the green country and the ultimate journey?
And like the star of March I come bearing
The Zodiac pain, the witches’ moon, their passion . . .
I come dressed in the whiteness of the moment that proceeds
Crossing,
When the time – spans stuck on the dragon’s blood
Hang from the top of the throat . . .
And the Grey color edified all colors,
There shall we meet:
Between the line and its echo!
My love!
O thread of the fascinating twilight
Woven by desire in my limbs,
The red tiles
Over the roof of the ancient house
Will illuminate the forest in all directions,
And lead you towards the blue thresholds
Where the crowded spirits of the interior hall salute you . . .
There:
You and I
Climb
The spire of light
And the sound of the cathedral
Is no longer justified!
Portrait of rain
The rain’s portrait:
We used to surprise
In old note-books
And colored poems
And on the trees that crouch
Late at night
With the eyes of drunk swallows
And fingers that open onto the wilderness . . .
We remember it now on the edge of our secret passage-way
And wipe the remains of moisture
And seasons’ exile . . .
On the face of childhood
So that
We might by doing so:
Share the biography of water
Or
Change the shape of rain!
translates by:
Norddine Zouitn
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Did you know William Meredith, poet and my professor, who received honors from the Morrocan government for his work? I loved him very much.
Please call me Carolina and visit my poetry website-- www.hotmetalpress.net
All goodness,
Carolina
كم كان اللقاء جميلا.. بعيدا عن القيل والقال وما يقولون.. وكم أنا سعيد بعمق نواياك أنت الساهر على أحياء وأموات مدينة تازة القريبة البعيدة.. مدينتنا العاشقة المتمنعة.. أصبحت أهفو إليها أكثر من ذي قبل ربما لأن وجوكم يطرز فيأفق انتظارها أشياء لا يكنه حقيقتها إلا من يستطيع ان يغوص في عينيك الناطقتين الصامتتين.. كانت كلماتك تذكرني أنا الطفل الصغير الذي كنته في ازقة اكنول الضيقة.. كلماتك كانت لي بمثابة الوصايا العشر، وكأنك كنت تقول لي :احفظها عن ظهر قلب..أيها الشاعر الذي جبل عليه دون تصنع لنني لا أعتقد ان الشاعر هو الذي يولد ليتعلمه هكذان بل الشاعر هو الذي تطوقه تضاريس الشعر.. براري الشعر ..فضاءات الشعر.. وكل هذه الأشياء تحيط بك وتحيط بها.. ألف تحية لك أيها العزيز واسلم لي ابدا أخا عزيزا
أخوك عبد السلام فزازي
I will like to remain always the child that I was
Who does not have this wish?
No one that I know can deny such a conscious or subconscious wish, but only a poet like you has the courage to say such a wish out loud:
“I will like to remain always the child that I was”
Only poets and gifted deviants bear to carry the children that they were wherever they go with out being ashamed of their naughtiness and their giggly laughter.
I guess, it needs a resistant spirit to grow up without leaving the innocent child behind.
Fowziyah Abukhalid
كل المودة والاحترام
زكية
Peace