I’m listening to this song by Marcel Khalife right now. The song is called Rita wal Bonduqiyah, or Rita and the Rifle—originally a beautiful poem written by the late Mahmoud Darwish, and turned into a song by Khalife. People have interpreted Rita as well as the Rifle to be all sorts of things. Some suggest Rita was an Israeli (Jewish) girl Darwish fell in love with in his youth. Some claim she was a Palestinian lover who was killed; while others interpret Rita as the homeland torn away from its natives. Readers also interpret the rifle both literally and metaphorically. The latter translates the Rifle as a symbol of the occupation forces or conversely for resistance. Whatever extent to which you wish to read into this poem/song, one thing remains still—it’s an expression of the evasive reality of occupation and national struggle in both private and public realms. (see below for English translation)
Rita and the Rifle by Mahmoud Darwish (English Translation) / In Arabic: ريتا و البندقية
Between Rita and my eyes there is a rifle / بين ريتا وعيوني . . بندقيه
And whoever knows Rita kneels and prays / والذي يعرف ريتا ينحني ويصلي
To the divinity in those honey-colored eyes / لإله في العيون العسليه
And I kissed Rita / وأنا قبلت ريتا
When she was young / عندما كانت صغيره
And I remember how she approached / وأنا أذكر كيف التصقت
And how my arm covered the loveliest of braids / بي وغطت ساعدي أحلى ضفيره
And I remember Rita / وأنا أذكر ريتا
The way a sparrow remembers its stream / مثلما يذكر عصفور غديره
Ah, Rita / آه ريتا
Between us there are a million sparrows and images / بيننا مليون عصفور وصوره
And many a rendezvous / ومواعيد كثيره
Fired at by a rifle / أطلقت نارا عليها . . بندقيه
Rita’s name was a feast in my mouth / إسم ريتا كان عيدا في فمي
Rita’s body was a wedding in my blood / جسم ريتا كان عرسا في دمي
And I was lost in Rita for two years / وأنا ضعت بريتا . . سنتين
And for two years she slept on my arm / وهي نامت فوق زندي سنتي
And we made promises / وتعاهدنا
Over the most beautiful of cups / على أجمل كأس
And we burned in the wine of our lips / واحترقنا في نبيذ الشفتي
And we were born again / وولدنا مرتين
Ah, Rita! / آه . . ريتا
What before this rifle could have turned my eyes from yours / أي شيء رد عن عينيك عيني
Except a nap or two or honey-colored clouds? / سوى إغفاءتين وغيوم عسليه قبل هذي البندقيه
Once upon a time / كان يا ما كان
Oh, the silence of dusk / يا صمت العشيه
In the morning my moon migrated to a far place / قمري هاجر في الصبح بعيدا
Towards those honey-colored eyes / في العيون العسليه
And the city swept away all the singers / والمدينة كنست كل المغنين
And Rita / وريتا
Between Rita and my eyes — A rifle / بين ريتا وعيوني . . بندقيه
