海 外 头 条总 编   火 凤  凰  （海外）

海外头条总编审   王 在 军   （中国）

海外头条副编审 Wendy温迪（英国）

图片选自百度  

Ashraf Aboul-Yazid: A PoeticBridge of Civilizations in the Spirit of Great Poetry

By Cao Shui（China）

When I read the works and life of Ashraf Aboul-Yazid, an Egyptian poet, novelist, and journalist who has traversed 37 countries in 4 continents for over 35 years, I see not just a prolific creator, but a living practitioner of the Great Poetry ideal. I am Cao Shui, the initiator of the Great Poetry Movement. I have long advocated that the core of this movement lies in the integration of Eastern and Western civilizations, ancient and modern civilizations, and sacred and secular civilizations—a poetic mission to transcend boundaries, weave fragmented human experiences into a universal tapestry, and rebuild the spiritual homeland of humanity.

Ashraf’s pen, tempered by cross-cultural winds and rooted in the depth of his native soil, becomes a bridge that connects distant civilizations, bridges the gap between past and present, and reconciles the sacred longing of the soul with the secular trials of life.He also translated my Epic of Eurasia into Arabic, so our hearts are connected. I plan to interpret his poetry using the theory of epic poetry.

1. Dialogue Between Eastern and Western Civilizations:A Poet of Transcontinental Vision

The Great Poetry Movement rejects the parochialism of "civilizational isolation"; it calls for poets to become "translators of souls" between East and West. Ashraf’s life trajectory itself is a testament to this dialogue: from his native Egypt (the cradle of ancient Eastern civilization) to Oman, Kuwait, Saudi Arabia (the heartland of Arab culture), and finally to South Korea (a beacon of modern Eastern civilization), he has not merely lived in these lands—he has absorbed them. As the Continental Coordinator of the World Poetry Movement (WPM) and former President of the Asia Journalist Association (AJA), he has turned his cross-regional experiences into a poetic language that transcends geographical borders.

His translation of 8 books spanning art, children’s literature, poetry, and science is not just a linguistic task, but a cultural mediation. When he writes in A Street in Cairo of "the sands of his exiled deserted body" poured between the sidewalks of a Cairo street, the image of exile resonates with both the Arab world’s historical displacements and the universal experience of alienation—one that a Korean reader (familiar with the pain of division) or a Chinese reader (aware of diasporic struggles) can equally grasp. His receipt of the Manhae Grand Prize in Literature (Korea) and the Gold Medal at the Eurasian Literary Festival (Istanbul) further confirms that his poetry has become a common language: it carries the warmth of the Nile and the tranquility of the Han River, the grandeur of Arab deserts and the subtlety of East Asian aesthetics, achieving the "intercivilizational communication" that Great Poetry strives for.

2. Interweaving of Ancient and Modern Civilizations: Between the Nile’s Legacy and the Chaos of Today

Great Poetry seeks to "dig the roots of ancient civilizations and water the buds of modern life"—to let the wisdom of the past illuminate the confusion of the present. Ashraf’s poetry is deeply rooted in the ancient soil of Egypt, yet it never shies away from the harsh realities of modernity.

In Benha, his hometown on the Nile, he writes: "As a tit on the River Nile breast / Benha sleeps, and pours / Its honey in my dreams." The Nile, a symbol of ancient Egyptian civilization (the lifeblood of pharaonic kingdoms, the source of myths and rituals), is here rendered as a nurturing mother—an "ancient soul" that anchors the poet’s identity. Yet this ancient warmth collides with modern anxiety: "I wonder, when I come home / If I could remember all its roads? / Or if Benha remembers my face / With the new tired roads / Engraved on it?" The "new tired roads" are not just physical paths, but the scars of modern life—exile, displacement, the erosion of memory by time. Here, the ancient Nile (eternal, nurturing) and the modern poet (weary, disoriented) engage in a quiet dialogue: the past is not a relic, but a living presence that judges and comforts the present.

Similarly, in A Street in Cairo, the street—"deserted for two thousand years, / Full of dried trees and people, / Filled with a mixture of mud and bones"—bears the weight of ancient Egyptian history (the mud of the Nile Delta, the bones of ancestors), yet it is also a stage for modern suffering: war, farewells, the "processions of sadness" that pass through. Ashraf does not separate ancient and modern; he weaves them into a single fabric: "life looks like death!"—a line that echoes both the cyclical time of ancient Egyptian cosmology and the absurdity of modern violence. This is the essence of Great Poetry’s "ancient-modern integration": to make the past speak to the present, and the present honor the past.

3. Fusion of Sacred and Secular Civilizations: Between the Monk’s Turban and the Exile’s Tears

Great Poetry believes that the sacred and the secular are not opposites, but two sides of the same human soul—one reaching for the stars, the other grounding in the earth. Ashraf’s poetry masterfully fuses these two dimensions, turning secular suffering into a quest for sacred meaning, and sacred symbols into companions for secular struggles.

In THE MOUNTAIN WITH A GRAY HEAD, the poet climbs a mountain to meet a monk, whose temple is "a cloud; / A turban of skyscraper"—a sacred figure elevated by the grandeur of nature, yet rooted in the tangible image of a "skyscraper" (a modern, secular symbol). The monk’s questions—about "butterflies dancing while embracing a cocoon," "roses [as] tears of perfume," "a pond bearing the image of a bird with dragon wings"—are not abstract theological inquiries, but poetic meditations on transformation, beauty, and hope. Yet the poet comes empty-handed: his water skin "didn’t save a drop," his steps are "lost," his face "desperate." This contrast— the monk’s sacred wisdom and the poet’s secular despair—does not create conflict, but harmony: the poet’s "one-way ticket" (a secular metaphor for life’s irreversibility) becomes a plea for the sacred to guide him back to meaning.

Even in his most secular poems, Ashraf infuses a sacred sense of transcendence. In A TRAIN CROSSES THE DESERT, the train is a secular symbol of modern displacement—"pull[ing] the air-conditioned coffins as a long tail," carrying people who "fight our defeats, / To beautify our fake organs." Yet the desert, which surrounds the train, is a sacred space in Arab culture—a place of revelation, of encounter with the divine. The poet’s struggle ("We are insulting those countries, / And spitting in one thousand and one towels. / But, We are not leaving the train") is a secular act of frustration, but it unfolds against the desert’s sacred silence—a reminder that even in despair, the human soul yearns for something greater. This fusion of sacred and secular is what makes Ashraf’s poetry not just a record of life, but a celebration of the human spirit’s capacity to rise above suffering.

The Great Poetry Movement is not a rigid doctrine, but a call to poets to become "builders of civilizational bridges." Ashraf Aboul-Yazid answers this call with every line he writes. His life, a journey across East and West cultures; his poetry, a dialogue between ancient and modern cultures; his spirit, sacred and secular. These embodies the very core of what we advocate: to make poetry a universal language that unites humanity.

When he asks in A Street in Cairo, "How many last wars will be enough?" he is not just speaking for the people of Cairo, but for all humanity—for those in East and West, in ancient lands and modern cities, who yearn for peace. When he writes of Benha and the Nile, he is not just celebrating his hometown, but the eternal bond between humans and their cultural roots. This is Great Poetry: poetry that is both deeply personal and universally human, both rooted in a single soil and open to the entire world.

Ashraf Aboul-Yazid’s work reminds us that in an era of division and conflict, poetry can be a force for integration—of civilizations, of times, of souls. He is, without doubt, a great poet of our time, and a shining example of what the Great Poetry Movement aspires to be.I will nominate him to the Great Poetry Movement Committee and award him the Grand Poetry Movement Medal for 2026.

2025.11.10，Beijing，China

Brief Biography of Cao Shui

Cao Shui, also Shawn Cao (born in Jun 5, 1982), is a Chinese poet, novelist, screenwriter and translator. He is a representative figure of Chinese Contemporary Literature. He leads the Great Poetry Movement. His most notable works includes Epic of Eurasia, the already mentioned trilogy and Princess Snow Leopard. So far 50 books of Cao Shui have been published, including 10 poem collections, 5 essay collections, 10 novels, 7 translations, 18 fairy tales and 100 episodes TV series and films. He has won more than 80 literary awards worldwide. His works have been translated into 30 languages. He is also chief editor of Great Poetry, executive editor in chief of World Poetry, Asian coordinator of World Poetry Movement, coordinator of BRICS Writers Association, executive president of the Silk Road International Poetry Festival, Chairman of Beijing International Poetry Film Festival. Currently he lives in Beijing, and works as a professional writer and screenwriter.