“Whims” and Finding Presence in the Present

Khaled Mattawa’s translation of Saadi Youssef’s “Whims” engages distinct styles of temporal organization that offer diverse readings of the past, present, and future both within and beyond the poem. Multiple interpretations of time are at work at any given locus in the poem, each competing for authority. The interplay of tense, word choice, chronology, and organization constructs time within the boundaries of the past and future, ultimately culminating in a vehement affirmation of the present.

No formal introduction of the measures of time is introduced until the third strophe with “days” (18) and “months” (19) and finally “today” (22) and “tonight” (25) in the fourth; yet, the poem’s tense and progression from numbered chapter to numbered chapter quickly introduces its temporal concerns. The first three chapters are written in the past: preterite and pluperfect. While the content is stuck in the past (“he wanted” (1), “she was told” (16)) its retelling depends upon the future jumps from chapter to chapter. The reader is forced to look ahead into the future of the poem to further understand this past narrative. This anticipation of the past exists most explicitly in the ellipses at the end of the first strophe, as the past will only be understood completely through the progression of the poem.

Two more occult calls to move forward appear in the use of the infinitive and the conditional. The repetition of the infinitives: “to ask her, to slap her, or to offer himself to shield” (2-3) present tense-less possibilities, which demonstrate the necessity to read on to resolve their appropriate tense. Furthermore, the infinitive in and of itself represents a grammatical turn to the infinite, which can only be realized in the future. The use of the conditional in the second strophe—“his world would have rained” (9), “his eyes would have closed” (11)—emphasizes the past is in fact a “condition” of its future retelling.

Aurally, “Whims” is peppered with “d” sounds. The strong “d” sound occurs most frequently in the morpheme, “-ed”, as a suffix of a verb to convey past tense, this familiar aural association with the past is repeated again and again in different parts of speech. In the first three chapters: “wanted”, “middle”, “shield”, “wondrous”, “forehead”, “walked”, “remained”, “word” (four times), “world”, “would” (twice), “rained”, “closed”, “told”, “had”, “arrived”, “passed”, “days”, “waited” (twice), “disappeared” accost the reader with “d” sounds over and over. There is a clever combination of associations here: in addition to the aforementioned association with the past, the emphasis of repetition gestures toward the future as the reader grows to expect the “d” sound.

Finally in the last chapter of the poem, the speaker shifts to the present tense: “I laugh” (22), “I write” (22), “I say” (23). In the entire strophe there is only one “d” sound, and that is in “today” (22). “Today” is important for a number of reasons. First, “today” is entirely present and the meaning of the word overwhelms the association of the “d” sound with the past. Furthermore, “today” terminates “d” sounds for the rest of the poem, which explicitly rejects the repetition that gestures toward the future.

The final chapter represents a duality of time. Its dominant stylistic differences—present tense, first person—differentiate it from the previous three chapters, yet it simultaneously responds to and depends on them. In asking what he writes tonight, the answer inevitably takes the form of the first three chapters. I initially questioned the chronology of the chapters. Why does chapter four not inspire the poem? Why do the first three chapters not follow as a response? I found my answer in the poem’s title: “Whims”. I read the first three chapters as the product of a sudden, unexplained desire to write, to create. I find support for this overwhelming passion for the word in the praise of the second strophe and in the only aberration to the past tense, third person construction. These words ring like a chorus: “O word he loves,/O single word./All my life is a single word./O single hope. (12-15). This celebratory disruption resonates as a tribute to the poetic process, an overwhelming gratitude for the speaker’s ability to write; and the stylistic shift introduces the affirmation of the present confirmed in the poem’s resolution.

The poem concludes immersed in the present, and the speaker’s shift to the personal pronoun “I” evidences an ownership over the present moment. “I laugh” (22) supports the whimsy suggested by the title, while conveying an enthusiastic embrace of the present. While there is a temporary shift to the third person in the spoken text: “I say: ‘Saadi,/my reasonable sir,/what are you writing tonight’” (23-25), I read a self-referential confidence substantiated by his naming and the complimentary description of a “reasonable sir” (24). Coupled together, the two demonstrate a respect that asserts the speaker’s subjectivity in a way that lends legitimacy to his personal affirmation of the present. Appropriately, this is the only poem in the collection that is both dated and time stamped: Basra, 15/3/1961, 1:20 AM.

Youssef, Saadi. Without an Alphabet, Without a Face: Selected Poems. Trans. Khaled Mattawa.
New York: Graywolf P, 2002. 18-19.