يا صديقي

ترجمة إنجليزية
شارك:

بعد أن وخط الشيب رأسه ..جاء يشكو ما يعانيه قلبه من حب فتاة تودع عهد الصبا .. فقلت له:

يَا صَدِيقِي كُلُّ هَذَا مُبْتَدَاكَيْفَ بِي مِنْكَ إِذَا جَاءَ الْخَبَرْ
أَنْتَ فِي حُلْمِكَ تَبْدُو وَاهِمًاوَلَقَدْ تَصْدُقُ أَحْلَامُ السَّحَرْ
مَا لِعَيْنَيْكَ تَرَى مَا لَا يُرَىمَا لِقَلْبٍ فِيكَ يُحْيِي مَا انْدَثَرْ؟
قَدْ مَضَى عَهْدُ شَبَابٍ كُلُّهُأَدْمُعٌ لِلْعِشْقِ مِنَّا تَنْهَمِرْ
وَمُنَاجَاةُ خَيَالٍ فِي الدُّجَىحَبَسَ الْأَنْفَاسَ فِيهِ وَالنَّظَرْ
هَلْ تُرَاهُ عَائِدًا مُخْتَلِسًاجَدَّدَ الْعَهْدَ فَأَبْدَى الْمُسْتَتِرْ
هَذِهِ الْأُمْلُودُ تَهْوَى يَافِعًامِثْلَهَا .. يَحْلُمُ طَيْشًا وَشَرَرْ
تَمْتَطِي أُرْجُوحَةً فَوْقَ الذُّرَىمِنْ سَمَاوَاتِ صَبَابَاتٍ غُرَرْ
هَلْ إِذَا جَاءَتْكَ تُسْدِي حِكَمًاصَاغَهَا الْعُمْرُ عِظَاتٍ وَعِبَرْ؟

ممباسا – كينيا
1999م

My Friend

When grey had begun to streak his hair, he came to me complaining of what his heart was suffering for love of a girl just bidding farewell to her childhood. So I said to him:

  1. My friend, all this is just the start, the subject1;
    how will I fare with you when news, the predicate, falls due?
  2. You seem deluded in this dream of yours;
    and yet the dreams before the dawn2 may well come true.
  3. What ails your eyes, that they see what cannot be seen?
    What ails your heart, that it revives what lies in ruin?3
  4. Our youth has passed, that season when, for love,
    our streaming tears were all we ever knew,
  5. and whispered converse with a phantom4 in the dark
    that held our breath its captive, and our gazes too.
  6. Do you suppose that season has come stealing back5,
    renewed the pledge, and brought what lay concealed to view?
  7. This tender bough of a girl6 loves one as young
    as she, a boy whose dreams are recklessness and sparks7.
  8. She mounts a swing that sweeps above the peaks
    in skies of ardent longing, of the brightest hue8.
  9. And if she came to you, would you be offering
    maxims the years have cast as sermons, lessons you've lived through?9

Mombasa, Kenya, 1999

Notes

  1. Mubtadaʾ and khabar are the two parts of the Arabic nominal sentence. The mubtadaʾ (literally 'that with which one begins') is the subject; the khabar (literally 'news, report') is the predicate that completes it. Both senses are meant at once (tawriya): the friend's confession is only a subject still waiting for its predicate, only the beginning, and the khabar is the news still to come, how this love will end. Kayfa bī minka ('how will I fare with you?') voices affectionate anxiety rather than a real question. ↩
  2. Saḥar is the last part of the night, just before dawn. An old belief in Arab and Islamic tradition holds that dreams seen at this hour are the truest and come to pass. The concession is both consolation and gentle irony. Ḥulm also means a fond hope, so the infatuation itself is the 'dream'. ↩
  3. Both questions are rhetorical, expressing astonishment and rebuke; they expect no answer. The eyes 'see what cannot be seen', a love that is not there. The heart revives mā indathar, 'what has been effaced', a word used of ruined, wind-swept traces; here it is the passion of a youth long gone. ↩
  4. Khayāl (also ṭayf) is the phantom of the beloved, a central motif of classical Arabic love poetry. Her image visits the lover by night, in sleep or waking reverie, and he holds munājāt with it, intimate whispered talk. The lovers dared not breathe or look away for fear the vision would vanish. ↩
  5. The subject is the season (ʿahd) of youth from verse 4: has it returned mukhtalisan, stealthily, like a thief slipping in? ʿAhd means both 'era' and 'pledge', so the returning season 'renews the ʿahd': it brings the old days back and renews the old lovers' pledge, laying bare a passion long hidden. The question is ironic: has youth really come back to a greying man? ↩
  6. Umlūd describes a young woman who is soft, supple and slender, likened to a tender green branch that bends easily. The demonstrative hādhihi ('this') points at her with a touch of reproach: this girl, of all people. ↩
  7. Yaḥlumu ṭayshan wa-shararan, literally 'he dreams recklessness and sparks': the young man's very dreams are rashness and fire, the sparks of hot blood that flare and die quickly. The verb 'dream' echoes verse 2, setting the grey-haired friend's dream against the young man's. ↩
  8. Tamtaṭī means 'she mounts', as one mounts a steed. Ṣabāba is ardent, yearning love; ghurar (plural of ghurra, the white blaze on a horse's brow) means the brightest and finest of anything. Young love is pictured as giddy, weightless flight in heights the older man cannot reach. ↩
  9. The question is ironic. Tusdī ('you offer, you bestow') is addressed to the friend: if she did come, all he could give her is wisdom that age (al-ʿumr) has cast into sermons (ʿiẓāt) and lessons (ʿibar), while a girl on that swing wants sparks, not sermons. There is quiet advice in it too: counsel, not courtship, is what now suits him. ↩

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