حديثُكِ.. همسُكِ

غابات من العنبر
ترجمة إنجليزية
شارك:
حَديثُكِ.. هَمْسُكِ لَوْ تَعْلَمِينْ؟؟؟
يُكَهْرِبُ قَلْبِي ..
وَيُسْكِرُ رُوحِي ..
وَيَسْرِي لِيُنْعِشَ دِفْءَ كِيَانِي.
وَسَمْعِيَ يَرْعَشُ مِنْ نَبَرَاتِهْ
وَمِنْ نَغَمَاتِهْ
أَذُوبُ .. تَذُوبُ جُزَيْئَاتُ ذَاتِي
كَمِثْلِ انْسِكَابِ السُّلافِ بِكَأْسِ النَّدَامَى..
حَديثُكِ … هَمْسُكِ لَوْ تَعْلَمِينْ!؟
يُجَرِّدُنِي مِنْ حُدُودِ الزَّمَانِ
يُحَرِّرُنِي مِنْ تُخُومِ الْمَكَانِ
أَغِيبُ عَنِ الْوَعْيِ فِي الانْدِهَاشْ
أَلُوذُ بِسَمَّاعَةِ الْهَاتِفِ
وَأَحْضُنُهَا.. وَأَلْثُمُهَا
أُحِسُّ بِأَنِّي أُمَسِّدُ شَعْرَكْ
وَيَرْتَاحُ رَأْسُكِ عُصْفُورَةً..
عَلَى كَتِفِي..
وَأَنْتِ كَمَا أَنْتِ حِينَ تُنَاجِينَ
بِلَحْنٍ يُذِيبُ شَجَاهُ الْحَجَرْ
أُعَانِقُ رُوحَكِ
وَهْيَ تُمَوْسِقُ لَحْنَ الشَّجَى
كَفَانِي انْتِشَاءً .. كَفَانِي
فَأَنْتِ لِرُوحِي كَرَاحِ النَّدَامَى
وَأَنْتِ لِرَاحِيَ رُوحُ انْتِشَائِي.
وَتَحْمِلُنِي الْكَلِمَاتُ الْعِذَابْ
لِتَنْشُلَنِي
وَتَرْفَعَنِي
عَنْ مُحِيطِ الْعَذَابْ
وَهَمِّ الْفِرَاقِ.. وَغَمِّ الْغِيَابْ
فَيَنْدَى فُؤَادِي
بِلَحْنٍ مُذَابٍ
كَأُنْسِ الشَّرَابْ.
أَزِيحِي الْفَوَاصِلَ مَا بَيْنَنَا
لِأَشْعُرَ بِالدِّفْءِ فِي الاغْتِرَابْ
وَأَشْعُرَ أَنَّ الزَّمَانَ/الْمَكَانَ
عِنْدَ الْمُحِبِّينَ مَحْضُ سَرَابْ

Your Words... Your Whisper

  1. Your words... your whisper, if only you knew1???
  2. electrify my heart...
  3. and make my soul drunk...
  4. and steal through me to revive the warmth of my whole being.
  5. My hearing trembles at its cadences
  6. and at its melodies.
  7. I melt... the very particles of my self melt away,
  8. like the choicest wine2 poured into the cups of drinking companions...
  9. Your words... your whisper, if only you knew!?
  10. They strip me of the bounds of time,
  11. they free me from the frontiers of place.
  12. I lose consciousness in sheer wonder.
  13. I take refuge in the telephone receiver,
  14. I hold it close... I kiss it.
  15. I feel as though I am stroking your hair,
  16. and your head, a little sparrow, comes to rest...
  17. upon my shoulder...
  18. and you are just as you always are when you pour out your heart in whispers,
  19. in a melody whose plaintive grief melts even stone.
  20. I embrace your soul
  21. as it makes music of the melody of sorrow.
  22. That is all the rapture I need... all I need!
  23. For to my soul you are like the wine of drinking companions,
  24. and to my wine you are the soul of my rapture3.
  25. And the sweet words carry me
  26. to pluck me out
  27. and lift me high
  28. above the ocean of torment4,
  29. the grief of parting... the gloom of absence4.
  30. Then my heart is bedewed
  31. with a molten melody
  32. like the warm companionship of wine.
  33. Remove the barriers that stand between us,
  34. so that I may feel warmth in my exile,
  35. and feel that time/place5,
  36. for those who love, is nothing but a mirage.

Notes

  1. Law taʿlamīn, 'if only you knew', is left hanging, and the triple question mark turns it into astonished wonder: the speaker cannot finish telling her what her voice does to him, and the lines that follow supply what it does. The phrase returns as a refrain further on, now with '!?', where wonder and exclamation meet. ↩
  2. Sulāf (also sulāfa) is the finest wine, the first juice that runs from the grapes before they are pressed. Nadāmā are drinking companions, the circle of the classical Arabic wine poem (khamriyya). Wine and the cup are old figures in Arabic, especially Sufi, poetry for the rapture of love, and that is how they work here: the speaker's self dissolves as wine pours into the cup. ↩
  3. The two lines play on rūḥ (soul) and rāḥ (wine), which differ by one vowel, and invert them in a chiasmus: 'to my rūḥ you are like the rāḥ… to my rāḥ you are the rūḥ of my rapture'. She is the wine that intoxicates his soul, and she is also the soul, the living spirit, of the wine itself. English can keep the crossing but not the near-identical sound. ↩
  4. The Arabic sets al-kalimāt al-ʿidhāb, 'the sweet words', against muḥīṭ al-ʿadhāb, 'the ocean of torment'. ʿIdhāb (sweet, like fresh water) and ʿadhāb (torment) are spelt with the same letters and differ only in a vowel, so the sweetness that saves him and the torment it saves him from sound almost the same. The next line adds a second chime, hamm al-firāq… ghamm al-ghiyāb, 'the grief of parting… the gloom of absence'. This word play (jinās) cannot be carried into English. ↩
  5. The slash is the poet's: 'time/place' is written as one fused unit. It gathers up the earlier lines, where her voice strips him of 'the bounds of time' and frees him from 'the frontiers of place', and it serves the conclusion: for lovers, the distance of time and space that the telephone spans is only a mirage (sarāb), something that looks real but vanishes on approach. ↩

English translation prepared by artificial intelligence and reviewed against the Arabic for accuracy of meaning and rhetoric.