Remembering Badr Bin Abdulmohsin, the ‘Poet of Light’ – ARABLIT & ARABLIT QUARTERLY

By Moneera Al-Ghadeer

My beloved has a smile that humbles the light.

Her forehead eclipses the moonlight—

If a poet’s passing moves nations, then the most celebrated Saudi poet, Badr Bin Abdulmohsin, has shown us that it can do so with reverence, grandeur, and eloquence, like metaphors in verse. Loss has cast its shadow over the Arabian Peninsula, and Badr Bin Abdulmohsin’s passing on Saturday, May 4, 2024, will be long remembered.

Not only are social media and TV programs still streaming tributes and obituaries, but newspapers in the Gulf region and across the Arab world are also covering the poet’s departure. There is a haunting consensus that the outpouring of words reaffirms his status as a great poet—a noble man, a graceful raconteur of love and romantic tranquility. His fans assert that no poet could move and inspire more utterly and truly. Royals and commoners, elites and ordinary people, and multiple generations have been rattled by the loss, and their sense of mortality has recoiled. The “poet of light” has taught audiences how to express affection and navigate through the poetic atlas of human emotions:

Your eyes are two stars,

Bright light after bright light, returning.

In another poem, the speaker describes his beloved by deploying riveting imagery of light:

The breeze blew from the parting of her hair

Like light that gleams in the dark of night.

The brightness of her forehead did not complain or leave,

But turned its cheek and was enraptured by the breeze.

Near the memory of ancient poets, Badr Bin Abdulmohsin was born in Riyadh in 1949, a descendant of royals who devoted himself to his art. He reminds critics of another poet-prince, Imruʾ al-Qays, the pre-Islamic poet. His poetry echoes pre-Islamic and Nabati dictions while presenting modernized poetics:

O water drawer! Show me the water

So I might see her reflection,

Or at least mine.

Al-Badr, as they call him, started writing poetry when he was 16 years old and was named the “architect of the word.” As he has often noted, poetry took him from his first passion, which was painting. His poems were destined to become widely popular songs. He has left behind unforgettable song lyrics included in his five poetry collections: What the Sparrow Engraves on the Date (1989), A Letter from a Bedouin (1990), A Painting, Perhaps a Poem (1996), The Nectar of Letters (2022), and The Peaks of Clouds (2022).

Remarkably, through his experimentation, he did not break all poetic conventions nor did he resist tradition as long debated in the Arab modernist discourse. Quite the contrary, he merged two often disparate forms and sparked innovation: Nabati (Bedouin poetry) and modernist poetry—to chisel his path. When I worked on translating and retranslating the previously mentioned collections, the English translation of his poetry resembled that of the romantic poets and echoed the spiritual and humanist tone found in Kahlil Gibran.

Yet Badr Bin Abdulmohsin’s poetry does not confine itself to sentimental and romantic lyrics but swells with pride for his country, its cities, valleys, mountains, seas, and deserts.  He taught us that there is an undying spirit of poetry after all, and it should be accompanied by earnest thought and never-ending loyalty to this art form.