عذاب الحلاج : عبد الوهاب البياتي

 

عذاب الحلاج : عبد الوهاب البياتي

1 المريد

سقطتَ في العتمة والفراغ

تلطّخت روحك بالأصباغ

شربت من آبارهم

أصابك الدوار

تلوثت يداك بالحبر وبالغبار

وها أنا أراك عاكفاً على رماد هذي النار

صمتُك بيت العنكبوت، تاجك الصُبّار

يا ناحراً ناقته للجار

طرقتَ بابي بعد أن نام المغني

بعد أن تحطّم القيثار

من أين لي وأنت في الحضرة تستجلي

وأين أنتهي وانت في بداية انتهاء

موعدنا الحشر، فلا تفضَّ ختم كلمات الريح فوق الماء

ولا تمسّ ضرع هذي العنزة الجرباء

فباطن الأشياء

ظاهرها.. فظُنَّ ما تشاء

من أين لي ونارهم في أبد الصحراء

تراقصت وانطفأت

وها أنا أراك في ضراعة البكاء

في هيكل النور غريقاً صامتاً تُكَلِّمُ المساءْ

 

I. Al-Murid, pp. 11-13 The Novice

You fell in the darkness, in the void,

Your soul is spattered with paint,

You drank from their well, You got dizzy,

Your hands were soiled with ink and with dust.

And here I am, seeing you bent over the ashes of this very fire; Your silence is the cobweb; your crown is the prickly pear.

 You who butcher your only she-camel for your hungry neighbor, You knocked on my door after the singer had gone to sleep,

After the lyre stopped. What've I got?

And you are in the presence of God seeking enlightenment.

Where will I end up? And you are in the beginning of the end.

 Our rendezvous is the Day of Doom.

Do not break the seal of the wind's words over the water.

And do not touch the udder of this scabby goat.

For the hidden of all things Is their manifestation.

So think what you want to. What have I got?

Their fire which is in the infinity of the desert

 Danced and went out.

And here I am; looking at you pleading with tears

 At the Altar of Light, drowned, wordless, praying to the dusk.

الشاعر العراقي حسن النصار بعض قصائده مع الترجمة

 

الشاعر العراقي حسن النصار بعض قصائده مع الترجمة

02-07-2025, 08:27

هذا الشاعر ربما منسي أو أنه قليل الإهتمام من قبل القراء أو النقاد لأنه لم أجد له ديوان خاص أو مجموعة قصائد قد طبعت بديوان أو نشرت على صفحات النت أو في المجلات أو الدوريات عدا هنيهات من هنا أو هناك

ربما كان مطاردا أو له شأنه الخاص به فلا يتوفر في النت عدا أنه قد هجر العراق واستقر في مدينة زليتن الليبية ... هل رجع أم بقي هناك لا علم لي ... ؟
كذلك يوجد غموض حول اسمه الصريح ... لكن من خلال استقرائي لبضع قصائد علمت أنه قد كتب شعره بعد أيام الحرب العراقية الإيرانية أو خلالها ؟ فهو يتحدث في أكثر قصائده عن الأرامل ومعانتهن وتشرد العوائل وصعوبة الحياة وما شابه
أما خلال الحرب , فبلا شك في أيام النظام السابق لا يستطيع شاعر أو ناقد أن يكتب عكس التيار .. فربما رحل عن العراق وكتب شعره ... لا أدري فالمعلومات المتوفرة عنه -كما أسلفت - ضئيلة جدا
===
ملاحظة : الأبيات المظللة بالأزرق = الأبيات المترجمة

Women and War in the Poetry of Hassan al-Nassar
Abbas Kadmim
Hassan Nassar
It attempts to trivialize the collection and implies insignificance of
the subject—the widow. In Iraqi parlance, a widow signifies extreme vulnerability, someone surely deserving of pity.
This is precisely what Al-Nassar’s poetry calls into question. In a stern outburst, he writes:

حسن نصار
الارامل قيامة ثامنة
حيثما يفشل الليل ؟ (أعتقد الأصوب : حينما يحل الليل \ يهبط الليل ) ؟
يقف الظلام يقظاً على أقدام الأرامل
هذا ما حدث ببغداد....
وفي عيونهن
عيون الأرامل الحديثات
تنكسر عيني
والأرامل جسور
تفيض من تحتهن أنهار الحزن

When the night comes down
darkness stands—fully awake
at the feet of the widows
This is what happened in
Baghdad . . .
And before their eyes—
the eyes of the new widows
my eyes blink in defeat.
=
the widows are bridges
under them flow the rivers of sorrow.
=

في كل إطلاقة مستقرة تولد
أرملة النار
وأيتام عُزّل نقمطهم بحقائب المدارس
يقرأون مدناً ترسمها الفوهات
يسطرون الخوف بحروف مرتعشة
فيختبئ الوطن بين ظلالها

for every bullet fired,
a widow of fire is born
and armless orphans
We strap them with school rucksacks
they read about towns whose borders are drawn by guns
and write fear along some shuddering lines
in their shadows hides the homeland!
==
Al-Nassar hears the screams of unfulfilled wombs crying out for
the seeds of life. Their cries are lost in the wilderness, however, and crushed under images of destruction.
Hearing the screams of these wombs, the poet’s heart opens:
I used to love pregnant women and my wife
they supplied our sidewalks with
little girls carrying school bags
and little boys who scratch the skin of our childhood
with their teasing . . .
the war is over
catastrophes are over
but lazy women are still all over the country’s sidewalks
and fill our nostrils with the smell of their flesh,
burned by the blazes of lust
they still swallow their saliva and the residue of a kiss.
==
The mother of the martyr says,
“I put henna on my hands,
I wish I had a hundred sons
[to sacrifice] for the homeland.”
=
The hearts of our women are graveyards
and their hands are empty baskets
A million breasts seduce the Heavens
and offer sacrifices:
Our breasts have no chests
And the river that went dry
They drape it with black flesh—
as black as the Sun-disk in the homes of the widows
They drape its glory with downfall.
==

أيتها الأرامل..
أعني أرامل الحرب فقط
أكثر النيران قذارة
تلك التي تمتزج بالرغبة
وأكثر الشوارع عرياً
تلك التي خلعت الإسفلت
ولبست الرصاص
هذه البصرة تعانق النخيل
فيسقط الرجال رطباً مراً
في فم الأرامل!

O Widows—
I mean only the widows of war
Know that the dirtiest fires
are the fires that mix with lust,
and the most naked streets
are those that took off their asphalt
and wore Lead
==
Al-Nassar coins a new term in reference to these women, “virgin widows.” He uses this term in all his collections; each time, in compelling and shocking contexts. Consider this passage, for example:
What an almost endless
Autumn in this pseudo-city!
What a special language!
Who can understand it, other than migrating birds?
And who will inherit the pain?
Injuries . . . reproducing for centuries
in the streets of Lead
I descend . . .
I descend to your height, to continue one half of the scene
At a half wall,
a virgin widow is cutting from the gown of the night . . .
to hide in it her tears
and on inflated wounds like her breasts . . . she leans
counting on her fingers the centuries of suffering
in the heart of Zainab . .
==
War is poverty
and the bus goes by . . .
But . . .
It has not the fare to depart from our town
War is affluence
Heads are its gain
as well as the hearts of virgin widows
==

والأرامل جسور
تفيض من تحتهن أنهار الحزن
حاول أن ...
حينما يصبح الوطن قفصاً صدرياً
مصوباً نحوه فوهة المسدس
يتنفسنا البارود برئة الخوف
يتنفسنا
يتنفسنا ... ونحن بين شفاه زوجاتنا
اللاتي يتعلمن أبجدية القبل

When the homeland becomes a human torso
pointed at with a pistol
gun powder inhales us
it inhales us . . .
while we are kneeling down
it inhales us in
while we are caught among the lips of our wives
who are still learning how to kiss
=
Al-Nassar places his young widows at the shrine of Musa al-Kadhim and presents a list of grievances on their behalf. Their husbands have been sent away, to prisons or to forced exile, making the women de facto widows:
O Abu al-Jawadayn!
Those who made widows of us before their death,
divorced us before the marriage
and made the unborn children, in our wombs, orphans.
==
my heart, like a little puppy, stares at you
a mortar’s bomb just landed next to it
Who can drape my heart with tranquility?
Guns are yawning on the shoulders of soldiers
and the war is an ever-lit Cuban cigar
I bought for it alone
the Mediterranean clouds, and the Two Rivers.
and clothed it with the beaches of the
Dead Sea
and the moment I entered a truce with the wind
and kissed the sun’s boot
I sold my wife’s virginity
==

Baghdad . . . the virgin
Your quiet secret grows with ease
The lips of my beloved woman at the dawn,
as they recite the prayer
It is said that everything helps create the general
The homeland . . . the people . . . the war
the city itself . . .
even the land participates in the making of a general
and with every general, a new graveyard is born . . .
I say: it is impossible for me to forget you [. . .]
O virgin widow!