الشاعر المحزون - - ترجمة
الشاعر المحزون
للشاعر المبدع صالح زيادنة
translation
by
عبدالوهاب القطب
الشَّاعِرُ المَحْزُونُ ..
يَحْمِلُ الحَقَائِبَ القَدِيمَة
ويمضغُ التاريخَ
ويشحذُ القريحةَ العَقِيمَة
مُسَافِرٌ يُسَائِلُ الزَّمَان
عن بيتِهِ . . عن أَهْلِهِ . .
عن عُمْرِهِ . .
في رِحْلَةِ الإحْبَاطِ والحِرْمَان
عن نَثرِهِ . .
عن شِعْرِهِ المدفونِ في مَغَاوِرِ النِّسْيَان
مُسَافِرٌ يُقَلِّب الصَّفَحَاتِ
من أَيَّامِهِ
ويمضغُ الأَحْدَاثَ مِنْ أَعْوَامِهِ
يفتّشُ المنازلَ القَدِيمَة
يَتَلَمّس الجُدْرَان
فلربما تأتي الحَبِيبَةُ
مَا عَادَ يُذْكُر إِسْمَهَا
آهٍ لعَلَّها نَجَوى . .
هُدَى . . سُوزَان
لعَلَّها تأتي مَعَ النسَاءِ في الصَّبَاح
لتملأَ الجِرَار
من بِئْرِنَا العَمِيقَةِ القَرَار
* * *
الشَّاعِرُ المَحْزُونُ يَسْأَلُ نَفْسَهُ
أينَ الرِّفَاق ؟
ويَصْفَعُ الجَبِين ..
كَأَنَّهُ يُخَاطِبُ الحَنِينَ والأَشْوَاق
لَعَلَّهُ قَدْ تَاهَ في الصَّحْرَاء
أو ضَاعَ في مَوَاكِبِ الإعياءِ والإرْهَاق
* * *
الشَّاعِرُ المَحْزُونُ
يَفْتَحُ الحَقَائِبَ القَدِيمَة
وينثرُ الأوراقَ في عُرْضِ الطريق
وينثرُ الأشعارَ والقصائدَ اللعينة
وَيُشْعِلُ الحَرِيق
فتضحكُ البنات
وَتَسْخَر النِّسَاء
والشَّاعِرُ المَحْزُون يَذْرف الدُّمُوع
ويبدأ البكاء
ويخدشُ الخدودَ بالأظافرِ الطويلة
فَتَصْرُخُ البناتُ
وتولولُ النسوان
لَكِنَّهُ يَذُوبُ
في سَحَائِبِ الدُّخَان ...
من ديوان أنغام حائرة
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translation
by
عبدالوهاب القطب
Behold the saddened poet walking,
Clinching to an old portfolio
Absent-mindedly chewing on his past,
As if begging his barren genius
for some thoughts and ideas.
Behold him wandering around
asking Time the whereabouts
Of his old house and its people.
What went wrong with his life,
In a journey so void
And so ungiving..
Yet still searching for some poetry
Burried and lost in the hollows
Of his forgetful memory.
Behold this wanderer..
flipping one page after another,
Of the days gone by
still looking and examening
Every happening..
Of his recent passing years,
searching for her in
One old house after another,
Anoiting them wall after wall
Hoping to find a lover.
Whose name he could not recall..
Was it Najwa?or Huda?
Or perhaps Suzanne?
Perhaps,he thought,
If he waits by the well,
She would come to fill her vessel
Like the rest of the women
And see her amongst them.
Behold this saddened poet
Talking to himself,wondering
Where all his friends went.
But denyingly,he
Slaps his face silly;
؟"What happened to me
It had to be
My yearning and longing
That caused me
This pain of a drifter
Lost in a desert
Or the pain of a lost one
Amid clamour and tiresome".
Behold ! the saddened poet
Open his portfolio of old poems,
Piling them across the road,
Like a bad curse,so dire,
He sets them on fire
Before the very eyes
Of giggling teens
And laughing women.
But the sad poet drops the tears,
As he begins to weep,
And walks toward the burning heap,
Bleeding through his cheeks.
But suddenly they
Started to yell and scream,
As he disappears,
Behind the smoke screen
رد مع اقتباس
المشاركة الأصلية كتبت بواسطة محمود عباس مسعود
المفضلات