Born and raised in Cairo, Persa Koumoutsi is a literary translator and a writer. Having returned to Greece after completing her studies at the Faculty of Arts at Cairo University, she began focusing solely on translating Arabic literature into Greek in 1993. She has since worked on the works of many distinguished authors, including fourteen novels by the Nobel Prize-winning Egyptian author Naguib Mahfouz, as well many Arab poets. Her bibliography includes the first Anthology of Contemporary Arabic Poetry in Greek, for which she received the First Prize of the Hellenic Society of Literary Translators in 2017. Among her other works, the Αnthology of Modern Arabic Female Poetry was also widely lauded in 2022. She has also published the Αnthology of Palestinian Poetry and the Anthology of Egyptian Poetry.
In this interview, originally conducted in Greek, I spoke with Persa about the renewed interest in Palestinian literature in times of genocide, the importance of translation as a means to make struggles known and build solidarities beyond human borders and language barriers, prison literature, as well as the future of Arabic translation in Greece. The latter concerns not solely translation for the sake of itself, but as a powerful tool to bring forth voices of those marginalized.
Christina Chatzitheodoru (CC): Since October 7 and the ongoing genocide, several young Arab writers and poets have been translated into Greek, including your recent translation of Najwan Darwish. There is a renewed interest in Palestinian literature in particular. Can you tell us more about this?
Persa Koumoutsi (PK): Of course there is a renewed interest, not only in Greece but all over the world, especially in Europe. The tragic events in Gaza have brought to the fore an unspeakable tragedy, and thus many of my colleagues and translators around the world—and in Greece—have devoted themselves to translating works that highlight this problem and its dimensions, as well as its impact on our collective and individual consciousnesses—especially those of whom are concerned with contemporary Arabic culture and its literature. One such work is a collection by the renowned Palestinian poet Najwan Darwish entitled, in Greek, I Kourasi ton Kremasmenon (Exhausted on the Cross), which, as the title suggests, alludes to the enduring pains of the Palestinian people, the irredeemable trauma, and the grievous injustice they have been inflicted upon them. Poetry, in my opinion, is the most powerful literary genre in these cases, since everything can be said and highlighted through the condensed word of poetry. . .
CC: The Palestinian writer and revolutionary Ghassan Kanafani once stated: “My political position springs from my being a novelist. In so far as I am concerned, politics and the novel are an indivisible case, and I can categorically state that I became politically committed because I am a novelist, not the opposite.” How does this view relate to your own approach to translation?
PK: I share the view of this great writer. Literature in its entirety is an act of resistance. If a text is written simply to express our personal wants or concerns, it is not literature, in my view, but a form of self-centered expression, a self-absorbed projection. Literature, although it is an art, belongs to the humanities, and therefore it has to perform a humanitarian, social, cultural, and political task. In simple words, it has to serve humanity, especially if this individual in their collective dimension is oppressed, wronged, imprisoned, hurt, suffering under occupation, etc. In that case, literature plays an extremely important role as it conveys the voice of the oppressed to others, makes their deplorable conditions known, communicates and disseminates their problem—at times indirectly, but always in a compelling way. Similarly, I choose to translate books that underline such themes, books that contribute to a better understanding of humanity, that appeal to our social and political consciousness, and expand our understanding of others. . .
CC: Where there is oppression, there is always resistance. In terms of Palestinian artistic production, there is also a renewed interest in what is widely known as the Literature of Resistance—the role of literature in liberation movements not only as an introduction to “secondary” voices, but as a political weapon to shape and change the narrative itself. In essence, through translation, the struggle of the oppressed becomes known, escaping the very condition of its marginalization. Could you share your thoughts on this, given that you have recently translated important work by Palestinian poets?
PK: You’re exactly right in that translation plays a “mediating role” to make all of the above known to an audience of a different culture and language. Without translation, voices remain confined to the narrow boundaries of a place—they become limited and are suffocated. And as you rightly put it, through translation, the struggle of the oppressed becomes known, escaping the very condition of its marginalization. Literature of resistance highlights, underscores, focuses on, and makes the problem more widely known; translation then disseminates it, allowing those voices to be heard in many parts of the world. And if we have come to realize that even press freedom may at times become subject to censorship, then the role of translation and translators become even more crucial. However, I see poetry as the most powerful and perhaps the most effective means of resistance. Mostly, the Arab world has used it as such, from colonial times to the present day, which is why I have focused on poetry lately, with works from all over the Arabic region and with emphasis on Palestine, Iraq and Syria.
CC: In the new collective publication Gia Mia Elefteri Palestini: Anthologia Palestiniakis Poiisis (For a Free Palestine: An Anthology of Palestinian Poetry), you write in the preface that Palestinian poetry has played an important role in the development of modern Arabic poetry. For Arabs, Palestine is an important element of their political identity, as shown by the solidarity marches during the first and second intifadas, and now. Moreover, this is also evident in their poetry and literature, as another of your recent collections, Triantafillo sta Eripia: 40 Poiimata gia tin Gaza (Rose in the Ruins: 40 Poems on Gaza), aptly demonstrates. Do you have in mind any other works by Arab writers and poets where Palestine is a central theme?
PK: Since the Nakba, Arabic poetry has changed radically. Previously, Arabic poetry focused on issues such as love, nature, and man’s relationship with these themes. Arabs have always had a special relationship with nature and love; Romanticism has dominated their poetry since pre-Islamic times, and thus the poetry of the Arabs, to a large extent, was to a great extent limited to these themes. During the colonial period, when many states suffered under the foreign occupation, the first revolutionary voices emerged, such as the Tunisian poet al-Shabbi, who comes immediately to mind, and others from Algeria. They essentially introduced a new mode of expression, no longer concerned with love—unrequited or not—the beauty of the lands, or the desert. Instead, revolutionary voices emerged that screamed: “Enough is enough.” Enough with the exploitation of our resources, our people, our history, our culture. . . They were powerful, but mostly limited within the Arab world, and very few were widely known at the time of their appearance, because the Arabic language was not yet as widespread as it is today, and translators were mostly unaware of this new literature.
With the Palestinian problem, the situation changed radically, because on one hand, the problem is timeless and finds its reaches in the present day, and on the other hand, these voices found an avenue of expression and dissemination through contemporary translation, especially in the last few decades when Arabic became more widespread, and several departments of Arabic language and literature were created in many universities throughout Europe. In the anthology of Palestinian poetry, I have included poets from the post-Nakba era as well as those in the present day—poets who have become more widely known recently, and who give us a clear picture of exactly what has happened and continues to happen in this tyrannized land. I have included several younger poets who have never been translated into other European languages, and notably in the selection of poems about Gaza, there are such poets as well as anonymous ones. . . Recent events, despite their tragic nature, have provided space for these voices to be heard and disseminated through translation.
CC: During the 2011 revolution in Egypt, Palestinian flags were present in the demonstrations along with Egyptian flags, in order to emphasize the common struggle of the two peoples. This of course becomes evident in art, from literature to cinema. Growing up in Egypt, how did this connection between the two peoples affect you?
PK: From a very young age, I had heard about the Palestinian problem without understanding much about it. The Greek community had its own issues to deal with, and thus didn’t discuss other ones enough. Then the wars of ‘67 and ‘73 occurred, but as I mentioned, I was much too young to have a deep understanding of what was going on. However, at the University of Cairo, where I studied, I came into contact with refugee Palestinian students, with whom I had conversations. I listened to their stories, and only then did I begin to get a clearer picture of their plight.
Certainly, my love for Egyptian culture and my studying at an Egyptian university helped me delve further into the history of the Arab world and understand things that were not quite clear to me as a young child, and also develop my knowledge beyond that of an average person whose perspective may be superficial, limited, or, as is in many cases, influenced by the prejudices that are unfortunately still in place today. But yes, the narrative about Palestine has always been dominant in Egypt, as I believe it is in all Arab countries. The Palestinian issue has always been an Arabic issue.
CC: You have also edited several collective publications, including an anthology of contemporary Arab poetry, an anthology of poetry by contemporary women writers of the Arab world, and others. How do you select the authors included in each anthology?
PK: At this point in my career, most of them reach out to me. Suffice it to say that I receive dozens of books of prose or poetry from both well-known and young writers and poets through social media. . . There are also those that I meet at the various conferences in the Arab world, as well as the ones I was taught at university. I make sure to present at least a small portion of their writings in the various anthologies. . . But all this definitely requires a great deal of research and study, so translation is just a part of the process; careful research, reading, evaluation of works, and selection are only the prelude stages to such an endeavor, and those actions are not visible except perhaps in the results or outcome of such projects.
However, the measures of my selection have to do with two main factors. The first is how much their writing—in terms of both style and language—appeals to me, and the second has to do with the subject matter of each text. I usually select poems or texts that have a social, political, or existential content. Texts that excel artistically and/or have a strong humanitarian or existential dimension to them—to me, those are ideal for translation.
CC: In Anthologia Poiisis Sigchronon ke Neon Ginaikon tou Aravikou Kosmou (Anthology of Poetry by Contemporary and Young Women of the Arab World), you have gathered writers from several countries in the Arab world, from Lebanon and Palestine to Algeria and Tunisia. What about women’s poetry from Sudan and Yemen, two countries that have not been translated much into Greek? Are there any women writers from these two countries that you would like to translate into Greek?
PK: I do think that despite its rare cultural value, integrity of translation, and diversity, the anthology is rather incomplete in that it does not cover all twenty-two countries of the Arab world. But as I wrote in my preface of the book, I am going to expand it to include women from the whole spectrum. This takes time, of course, but it is certainly in my plans. Then again, many projects have been interrupted because of the Palestinian issue, as I have been exclusively concerned with Palestinian literature, and have devoted all my time to such texts, mainly as an act of support and solidarity. However, I hope to return to the anthology when circumstances allow for it.
CC: You were born and raised in Egypt, a country with a rich literary production, and have previously translated several works by Egyptian writers, including the Nobel Prize-winning author Naguib Mahfouz. What can you tell us about the translations of the newer generation of writers who emerged after the 2011 revolution? January 25 shaped these younger writers. Who are some writers of this generation that you can see yourself translating in the future?
PK: It goes without saying that literature has changed radically in the recent years. After all, I think of it as a “living” organism, as it is constantly evolving and changing, and one of the most important factors in this evolution and transformation is the social and political shifts taking place. This applies to Arabic literature, and if we consider that Arabic literature is about twenty-two countries, not merely one, then I can say that it is an ocean which is impossible to be mapped by one, two, or even a group of people. Arabic literature is inexhaustible and ever expanding, and Egyptian literature is also really vast. . . There is a huge output which is growing every day, and January 25 has shaped these younger Egyptian writers, but it is not the only element; there are other social and cultural factors that have contributed to these changes, and more and more new writers are now emerging on the publishing scene. Therefore, I would like to avoid mentioning names, because as I explained, there are so many young and good authors, and I would certainly be doing an injustice to many if I were to mention just a few.
CC: In the Global South, especially in the Arab world, there is an emerging trend exploring bilingual publications of mostly poetry. Are these bilingual editions something worth exploring further in Greece?
PK: Perhaps so, although such productions are expensive and time-consuming. It takes a lot of time to create a bilingual work, especially in terms of setting and editing, because of the different writing styles. . . Moreover, there are not enough grant programmes to support such publications. However, such a project is not unfeasible, and I hope to see such publications in the future.
CC: I fell in love with Arabic language and literature when I was in London studying for my MA, and Saqi Books has played a huge role in my ‘baptism of fire.’ Saqi Books was founded in London in 1983, but has its roots in Lebanon, and it has played a leading role in introducing Middle Eastern culture in the UK since the 1980s. Given your translation experience, is it possible to establish a similar publishing house in Greece? Is this a project you could see yourself involved with in the near future?
PK: That would be a big step for me, and I won’t hide the fact that I have had suggestions for such a collaboration. But as I mentioned earlier, a translator can’t be concerned with anything else but his or her own work. However, things change, and if favorable conditions emerge, I would not rule it out.
CC: You have recently translated Mazen Maarouf’s collection of short stories; Maarouf’s life is a representation of the Nakba as an ongoing event, not exclusively an event existing in the past. Born in Beirut to Palestinian parents who were forced to leave Tal El-Zatar at the beginning of the Lebanese Civil War, he then worked as a chemistry and physics teacher before moving to Reykjavik, where he has become the foremost translator of Icelandic literature into Arabic. What prompted you to translate his work? What fascinates you about his writings?
PK: I consider Mazen Maarouf one of the most distinguished voices of his generation. Although I have been working in the literary field for more than thirty-three years, this book has opened new horizons in me. It is no coincidence that Mazen’s writing has been described by critics as avant-garde. I also rank him among the great contemporary writers, regardless of “origin” or background. Having won major prizes and nominations, Mazen gives us original texts—hybrid in the sense that it combines disparate and contradictory elements: tragedy with humor, the grotesque with tenderness, the real with fantasy, the realistic with the paradoxical, philosophical questions through parody or sarcasm, and all in just the right doses and in a way that really engages the reader. This book is multi-faceted, multi-layered, and with an undoubted originality. Also, it depicts a very harsh reality that corresponds to today’s deplorable circumstances, in both Palestine and Lebanon.
CC: In a recent post on your Facebook page, you mentioned that you were going to translate former prisoner Basim Khandaqji’s book, قناع بلون السماء (A Mask, the Color of the Sky), published by Dar Al Adab Publishing House in Beirut. As you mentioned, this is essentially prison literature. Several other prisoners have used writing to resist solitary confinement in prison, including the Palestinian martyr Walid Daqqa. While some of his works have recently been translated into English, unfortunately not much of his work has been translated into Greek. One of his works, available exclusively in Arabic, is an important contribution regarding the prison situation and the occupation’s methods against prisoners to fight their consciousness: صهر الوعي أو إعادة تعريف التعذيب (Searing Consciousness [Or on Redefining Torture]). Are you interested in his literary work for translation into Greek? Would you see the value of a more extensive translation of his work into Greek?
PK: Prison literature is not a new genre—it goes back centuries. Let us recall Wilde, Dostoevsky, Pound, Solzhenitsyn, Machiavelli, Mallory, Voltaire and many other world-famous writers. Wilde even stated in a paper he wrote in prison that “there is no essential incongruity between crime and culture.” In any case, writing in prison does not necessarily mean that one is referring to places of confinement—quite the opposite, in fact. Writing is a way for the prisoner to escape reality and the suffering of confinement and to travel, at least mentally, towards intellectual freedom. . . Subsequently, this type of literature is able to bring the reader very close to the prisoner, in order to listen to him and to understand his psychology in a profound way. Nevertheless, the cases of Khandaqji and Walid Daqqa are extremely interesting, worth exploring and studying as separate literary genres or phenomena, as their cases are unique and correspond to a very bleak reality that extends over many decades. Translating such works is a challenge for both the translators and publishers of course, especially in times of extreme turmoil, trauma, and chaos, such as those we are facing today. And if we take into consideration that even press censorship is unfortunately being revived in certain parts of the world, including some parts of Europe, such projects should continue to exist as an act of resistance to the constraints on freedom of expression. . . Daqqa’s work certainly interests me and I would love to translate at least a part of it, as it is a very extensive account of a haunting and very harsh reality.
CC: In 2019, your translation of Nouri al-Jarrah’s poetry was published by AW Editions. In it, he writes about people who have been uprooted by the war, along with the tragic consequences of refugeeism. In Greece, since 2015, we have had thousands of refugees arriving on Greek shores, but their stories are largely absent from the Greek literary scene. Could you conceive of a collective publication to translate such stories? Do you think we have enough people to work, side by side with the refugees, on such a project?
PK: It is a great idea, and it would be a great project to be implemented in Greece. I believe, however, that sensitive issues such as these require appropriate support. I know that Greek writers would be interested in such a project, while Greek Arabic-speaking writers—though they are few—could agree to work on such a collective publication. As for the translation of these stories, today, there are many Arabic speakers who live in Greece, who have studied in Greek universities and know the Greek language, so I believe that they could be of great help and contribution. But as I mentioned, all this needs organization and support. . . There is a lot that can be done, and it does not only require the good will of the authors and translators, but there must also be the corresponding interest from publishers who must be willing to invest in such works. Coordinating all these people also takes time and infrastructure. However, I don’t see it as an unachievable project—quite the contrary. Also, I would like to add that there is great shift today concerning the choices of Arabic titles for translation, as there is a growing interest concerning books of anti-war and humanitarian content.
Persa Koumoutsi is a literary translator and author residing in Greece. For her early translation of Mahfouz works, she was awarded the International Kavafy Prize in translation in 2001 and a special distinction from the Department of Greek Studies at Al-Azhar University in 2015. Her translation works now amount to over fifty titles and over eight hundred poems, as well as eight novels, most of which focus on intercultural dialogue. She has also received recognition for her novels, several of which have been translated into Arabic. She collaborates with European universities in educational programs on multiculturalism and international dialogue, and has written articles, critical texts, and studies about literature as a means for understanding the “Other.” She has also contributed to European programs promoting the visibility and translation of Arabic literature in Europe. Since 2020, she co-founded and currently directs the Center for Greek and Arabic Literature and Culture, an independent initiative with the goal of fostering and enhancing cultural ties between Greece and the Arab world by implementing focused initiatives and programs that educate and increase public awareness of contemporary Greek and Arabic literature, poetry, and language while forming significant partnerships with other cultural organizations in Greece and abroad. In 2021, she received an international Achievement Award for her overall contribution to Literary Translation and International Understanding from the International Sh. Hamad Organization. She has been hosting an online translation seminar (AR/GR) since 2022 in association with the Ionian University’s Center of Languages and Politics in Corfu, Greece. She received the Nikos Themelis Literary Award in 2024 and an honorary certificate of achievement from the Academy of Athens in 2023.
Christina Chatzitheodorou is a PhD candidate at the University of Glasgow, focusing on women’s participation in left-wing resistance movements during the Second World War. Originally from Greece, she speaks Greek, English, French, Italian, Spanish, a bit of Portuguese, and Turkish, and is also learning Arabic. Along with her PhD, she is currently working on a visual archive focusing on Greek solidarity with Palestine.
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