الأستاذ / محمد سعيد الريحاني
تحية
هـا هي القصـيدة التي تفضلتم بترجمتهـا إلى اللغة العربية
دمتم
إدوارد فرنسيس
Edward Francis
Montréal, Canada
Le Samedi, 07 / 02 / 2009
IN DEFENSE OF POETS
by Niels Hav
?What are we to do about the poets
Life's rough on them
They look so pitiful dressed in black
Their skin blue from internal blizzards
,Poetry is a horrible disease
The infected walk about complaining
Their screams pollute the atmosphere like leaks
From atomic power stations of the mind. It's so psychotic
Poetry is a tyrant
It keeps people awake at night and destroys marriages
It draws people out to desolate cottages in mid-winter
.Where they sit in pain wearing earmuffs and thick scarves
.Imagine the torture
Poetry is a pest
.Worse than gonorrhea, a terrible abomination
But consider poets it's hard for them
!Bear with them
They are hysterical as if they are expecting twins
They gnash their teeth while sleeping, they eat dirt
And grass. They stay out in the howling wind for hours
.Tormented by astounding metaphors
.Every day is a holy day for them
Oh please, take pity on the poets
They are deaf and blind
Help them through traffic where they stagger about
With their invisible handicap
Remembering all sorts of stuff. Now and then one of them stops
.To listen for a distant siren
.Show consideration for them
Poets are like insane children
?Who’ve been chased from their homes by the entire family
Pray for them
They are born unhappy
Their mothers have cried for them
Sought the assistance of doctors and lawyers, until they had to give up
.For fear of losing their own minds
!Oh, cry for the poets
.Nothing can save them
Infested with poetry like secret lepers
They are incarcerated in their own fantasy world
A gruesome ghetto filled with demons
.And vindictive ghosts
When on a clear summer's day the sun shining brightly
You see a poor poet
Come wobbling out of the apartment block, looking pale
Like a cadaver and disfigured by speculations
.Then walk up and help him
Tie his shoelaces, lead him to the park
And help him sit down on the bench
In the sun. Sing to him a little
Buy him an ice cream and tell him a story
.Because he's so sad
.He's completely ruined by poetry
Translated by P. K. Brask & Patrick Friesen
"دفاعا عن الشعراء"، قصيدة بقلم الشاعر الدانماركي نيلس هاو، ترجمة محمد سعيد الريحاني
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