قصيدتان مع الترجمة : نازك الملائكة

 

قصيدتان مع الترجمة : نازك الملائكة

اليوم, 15:52

نازك الملائكة 1948 الليلُ يسألُ من أنا
أنا سرُّهُ القلقُ العميقُ الأسودُ
أنا صمتُهُ المتمرِّدُ
قنّعتُ كنهي بالسكونْ
ولفقتُ قلبي بالظنونْ
وبقيتُ ساهمةً هنا
أرنو وتسألني القرونْ
أنا من أكون؟
والريحُ تسأل من أنا
أنا روحُها الحيران أنكرني الزمانْ
أنا مثلها في لا مكان
نبقى نسيرُ ولا انتهاءْ
نبقى نمرُّ ولا بقاءْ
فإذا بلغنا المُنْحَنى
خلناهُ خاتمةَ الشقاءْ
فإِذا فضاءْ!
والدهرُ يسألُ من أنا
أنا مثلهُ جبّارةٌ أطوي عُصورْ
وأعودُ أمنحُها النشورْ
أنا أخلقُ الماضي البعيدْ
من فتنةِ الأمل الرغيدْ
وأعودُ أدفنُهُ أنا
لأصوغَ لي أمسًا جديدْ
غَدُهُ جليد
والذاتُ تسألُ من أنا
أنا مثلها حيرَى أحدّقُ في ظلام
لا شيءَ يمنحُني السلامْ
أبقى أسائلُ والجوابْ
سيظَل يحجُبُه سراب
وأظلّ أحسبُهُ دنا
فإذا وصلتُ إليه ذابْ
وخبا وغابْ

Nazik al-Malaika (b. 1923) addresses this question in the poem “I Am” (“Ana):
The night asks me who I am
Its impenetrable black, its unquiet secret I am
Its lull rebellious.
I veil myself with silence
Wrapping my heart with doubt
Solemnly, I gaze
While ages ask me
who I am.
The wind asks me who I am
Its bedeviled spirit I am
Denied by Time, going nowhere
I journey on and on
Passing without a pause
And when reaching an edge
I think it may be the end
Of suffering, but then:
the void.
Time asks me who I am
A giant enfolding centuries I am
Later to give new births
I have created the dim past
From the bliss of unbound hope
I push it back into its grave
To make a new yesterday, its tomorrow
is ice.
The self asks me who I am
Battled, I stare into the dark
Nothing brings me peace
I ask, but the answer
Remains hooded in mirage
I keep thinking it is near
Upon reaching it, it dissolves

== == ==
A Matter of Fate

نازك الملائكة : ثلج ونار
تسأل ماذا أقصد؟ لا دعني لا تسأل
لا تطرق بوّابة هذا الركن المقفل
اتركني يحجب أسراري ستر مسدل
إنّ وراء الستار ورودا قد تذبل
إن أنا كاشفتك إن عرّيت رؤى حبّي
وزوايا حافلة باللهفة في قلبي
فستغضب مني سوف تثور على ذنبي
وسينبت تأنيبك أشواكا في دربي
***
هل يقبل ثلج عتابك قلبي الملتهب؟
أترى أتقبّل؟ لا أغضب؟ لا اضطراب؟
لا! بل سأثور عليك..سيأكلني الغضب
***
وإذا أنا ثرت عليك وعكّرت الأجواء
فستغضب أنت وتنهض في صمت وجفاء
وستذهب يا آدم لا تسأل عن حوّاء
***
وإذا ما أنت ذهبت وأبقيت الشوقا
عصفورا عطشانا لا يحلم أن يسقى
وإذا ما أنت ذهبت..فماذا يتبقّى؟
***
لا لا تسأل..دعني صامتة منطويه
أترك أخباري وأناشيدي حيث هي
اتركني أسئلة وردودا منزويه
***
يا آدم لا تسأل.. حوّاؤك مطويّه
في زاوية من قلبك حيرى منسّيه
ذلك ما شاءته أقدار مقضيّه
آدم مثل الثلج وحوّاء ناريّه
***
يا آدم لا تسأل.. حوّاؤك مطويّه
في زاوية من قلبك حيرى منسّيه
ذلك ما شاءته أقدار مقضيّه
آدم مثل الثلج وحوّاء ناريّه

In “Ice and Fire” ( ثلج ونار ), al-Malaika reflects on the strained relations between the sexes:
You may reproachfully provoke
my guilt.
Would I retreat?
Would the sharp icicle of your plaque
cut through my flames?
Would I yield,
and not go mad?
No.
I should revolt.
I scream inside.
But
were I to trespass
darken the air
with some bitter phrase
perhaps misplaced word
You would be offended
turn dry like sand
Rise
and quietly
disappear.
Don’t ask me why
I am gagged.
Here, I remain
a bed of roses bent
under your snow;
a puzzle of unanswerable questions
in some corner of your heart.
It is destiny’s prescription:
Adam is the ice
Eve the fire.

وقل ربي زدني علما

نكبة المسلمين واليهود في الأندلس - ملامح شعرية وتراجم

 في هذا الموضوع المختصر أسلط الضوء على بعض القصائد وأشيد أن تاريخ المسلمين واليهود في قرطبة كان تاريخ مشترك

فكلا من المسلمين واليهود تعرضوا للعدوان الصليبي ؟ وفي نفسي طرح هذا السؤال

 لماذا الآن اليهود في موقف مضاد دائم صوب المسلمين ؟
الموضوع باللغة الإنجليزية عدا تراجم للقصائد
يتضمن الطرح
قصيدتين لشاعرين عربيين مسلمين وأخرى لشاعر يهودي

The Nakba Voices in Muslim and Jewish Lamentation in
Andalusia
المناحة = lamentation

In my womb I made my eyes and molded
myself when I molded a parrot
And I measured the face of the earth with my feet
as if they were two measuring ropes

As mentioned before, the lamentations were characterized by two periods. The first comprises lamentations involving the fall of the capital city of
Cordoba in 1033 to the Murābiṭūn. The poet ‘Abu Hefetz ‘Umar ‘Abu al- Hassan al-'Hawazi (d. 1068) addressed the Bani ‘Abad family with a cry outlining the scenes of the killing and massacres in
Cordoba. There were calls on residents to wake up and get out of their deadly peace with the enemy. The direct reference is expressed in the word of the call that begins with the letter A in Arabic, ‘Abad,' which is one of the characteristics of the outcry and the request for help.

العالم أبو حفص عمر بن حسن الهوزني : يحرض على الجهاد
أعباد حل الرزء والقوم هجع على حالة من مثلها يتوقع

Oh ‘Abad, The disaster came upon the residents while they were asleep
Who would have expected such a situation

During the Murābiṭūn period, lamentations were written describing the condition of the House of 'Abad after their capitulation and imprisonment. In the following lamentation, written by Ibn al-Lubaneh (d. 1113), the poet expresses the pain and suffering of his exile. He tries to console himself and grieves for the Golden Age in which he lived under the House of Abad. Ibn al-Lubaneh presents a vignette of the sea passage and the exile from the homeland, which are clearly expressed in the following stanza:

ابن لبانة
سارت سفائنهم والنوح يتبعها كأنها إبل يحدو بها الحادي
كم سال في الماء من دمع وكم حملت تلك القطائع من قطعات أكباد
تبكي السماء بمزن رائح غادي على البهاليل من أبناء عباد

Their ships sailed, with wails in their wake
Like a caravan of camels, driven by the poems of the coming driver
What rivers of tears the waters carried
O how their flocks were carved out [of the land] like pieces of living flesh from a liver!


In the second lamentation, al-Abbār describes the disaster that befell the symbols of Islam. Al-Abbār sent this lamentation to the sultan of
Tunisia to encourage him to act bravely and redeem Andalus. In his accompanying letter, al-Abbar exhorts the sultan to mount his steed and embark on a journey of liberation to the city of
Valencia. This lamentation makes use of vignettes describing the grievous condition of the local Muslims, which is poignantly compared to the city's former glory. The poet's depiction of synagogues and mosques being transformed into churches is a clever use of Islamic (and Jewish) law, according to which such acts of desecration can only be undone by the removal of the impure elements:

ابن الأبار البلنسي
أُدْرِكْ بِخَيْلِكَ خَيْلِ اللَّهِ أَندِلُسَاً إِنَّ السَّبِيلَ إِلَى مَنْجَاتِها دَرَسَا
يَا لِّلجَزِيرَةِ أَضْحَى أَهْلُها جَزَراً لِلْحَادِثَاتِ وأَمْسَى جَدُّهَا تَعَسَا
في كُلِ شارِقَةٍ إِلْمَامُ بَائِقَةٍ يَعُود مَأْتَمُها عِندَ الْعِدَى عُرُسًا
فَمِنْ دَسَاكِرَ كَانَتْ دُونَهَا حَرَساً ومن كنائس كانت قبلها كنُسا
يَا لِّلْمَسَاجِدِ عَادَتْ للعِدَى بِيَعاً وَلِلنِّداءِ غَدَا أَثْنَاءَهَا جَرَسا
وَابْتَزِ بِزَّتَهَا مِمَّا تَحيَّفَها تحيفَ الأَسَدِ الضَّارِى لِمَا افْتَرَسا
مَحَا مَحَاسِنَها طَاغِ أُتِيحَ لَها مَا نامَ عَنِ هَضْمِهَا حِينَا وَلَا نَعَسَا
وأَكْثَرَ الزَّعْمَ بِالتَّثْلِيثِ مُنْفَرِداً وَلَوْ رَأَى رأيَةَ التَّوحِيدِ مَا نَبَسا
هَذِي وَسَائِلُها تَدْعُوكَ مِنْ كَتَبٍ وَأَنْتَ أَفْضَلُ مَرِجُةٍ لِمَنْ يَئِسا
طَهِّرْ بِلادَكَ مِنْهُم إِنَّهُم نَجَسٌ وَلا طَهَارَةَ مَا لَم تَغْسِلُ النَّجَسَا

Mount your horses, the steeds of God, and ride to Andalus
The road to its redemption is desolate
Woe for al-Gazīrah [
Andalusia] and its slaughtered residents
The catastrophes made her grandfather sad
Its East has been struck by woe
And its death and bereavement have become weddings for the enemy
The palaces surrounded by entertainment centers were left without guard
And the synagogues became churches
Woe for the mosques, which the enemy converted into churches
And for the call to prayer, replaced by the sound of the bell
Pitilessly, he exploited her clothes
Like a ravenous lion, hunting
Her beauty was erased by a heretic who ruled her
Who stayed awake until he had consumed her
He often swore by the trinity
And when he saw the flag of monotheism, he fell utterly silent
For she calls you to her
And you are the one most hoped for in the hour of despair
Cleanse your land of them, for they have defiled it
There can be no purity without having washed away what is impure

lament for Andalusian Jewry
Jewish poet Abraham Ibn Ezra

Calamity came upon
Spain from the skies,
and my eyes pour forth their streams of tears
I moan like an owl for the town of
Lucena,
where Exile dwelled, guiltless and strong,
5. for a thousand and seventy years unchanged—
until the day that she was expelled,
leaving her like a widow, forlorn,
deprived of the Scriptures and books of the Law.
As the house of prayer took folly in,
10. some men murdered and others sought shelter.
For this I weep and, mourning, wail:
If only my head were a fountain of water,
I shave my head and bitterly keen
for
Seville’s martyrs and sons who were taken,
as daughters were forced into strangeness of faith.
Córdoba's ruined, like the desolate sea
its nobles and sages have perished in hunger.
There are no Jews left in Jaén,
Majorca,
Malaga, and Almería;
all traces of life are gone -
and those who survived were beaten down.
For this I wail in my grief and mourn-
for they have melted away like water.
For Sijilmása I groan in distress
city of sages whose light barred darkness—
its pillar of Talmud was toppled and broken;
its Mishnah was trampled, cursed, and crushed
The upright were slaughtered and no one was spared

Fez was razed and its brethren butchered.
Telmesen's splendor shines no more.
For Meknes and
Ceuta my cry is bitter.
For Der'a I put on sackcloth and mourn:
their blood, on the Sabbath, was spilled like water.
What could I hope for or possibly say
when this is the work of my own hand?
From God this calamity has come upon me,
and now within me my heart's aflame
for my soul which has strayed from longed-for lands
and silently grieves in her trouble and shame
She hopes for mercy from her rock and strength,
for refuge beneath His wing's shadow.
Whenever she thinks of His name she revives,
though she'll face the hail of her handmaiden's arrows –
till the Lord with compassion looks down from the skies.

تعابير وتراجم

 أدب \ تعابير
كنت أقرأ أحد كتب الريحاني فوجدت ما يناسب التعابير باللغة الإنجليزية

الفيلسوف الفصيح eloquent philosopher :
الأمنية القصوى the utmost hope
من غير who other than :
بيد أنني I, however
إذ ذاك then , at that time
افسدت على ... عمله thwarted its action :
فبت أرعى النجوم so I spent the night watching the stars:
(lit. shepherding the stars)
كما يقول الشاعر As the poet says :
يا معلمي O my master :
كل ما به all his woes, lit : all that is in him :
فهلا تشبهت so why have I not likened myself :
كيفية استخدام مفردة : هلا
لا استطيع وضعها بين القوسين لأنه حالما أضعها تقفز إلى مكان آخر

The particle( ) when followed by an imperfect verb signifies an urging for an action, and when followed by a perfect verb, as here, signifies a remonstrance for the neglect of an action.
فرفعت يد الدائن and dispossessed the creditor, lit. “raised the hand of the creditor
بمريم العذراء by the Virgin Mary :
بحياة الله (التعبير لا يستخدم من قبل المسلمين )by the life of God :
وحق جميع القديسيين By the truth of all saints :
فصحت بهما and I cried out to them

انت عمري : أم كلثوم مع الترجمة

 

انت عمري : أم كلثوم مع الترجمة

اليوم, 10:06

انت عمري : أم كلثوم
رجعوني عينيك لأيامي اللي راحوا
علموني أندم على الماضي وجراحه
اللي شفته قبل ما تشوفك عينيا
عمر ضايع يحسبوه إزاي عليّا
رجعوني عينيك لأيامي اللي راحوا
علموني أندم على الماضي وجراحه
اللي شفته قبل ما تشوفك عينيا
عمر ضايع يحسبوه إزاي عليّا
اللي شفته، اللي شفته قبل ما تشوفك عينيا
عمر ضايع يحسبوه إزاي عليّا
اللي شفته قبل ما تشوفك عينيا
عمر ضايع يحسبوه إزاي عليّا، عليّا
اللي شفته قبل ما تشوفك عينيا
عمري ضايع، ضايع يحسبوه إزاي عليّا
إنت عمري، إنت عمري اللي إبتدى بنورك صباحه
اللي إبتدى بنورك صباحه
إنت، إنت، إنت عمري

Umm Kulthum / you are my life
Your eyes took me back to my days that are gone
They taught me to regret the past and its wounds.
Whatever I saw before my eyes saw you was a wasted life.
How could they consider that part of my life?
With your light, the dawn of my life started
How much of my life before you was lost
It is a wasted past, my love.
My heart never saw happiness before you
My heart never saw anything in life other than the taste of
pain and suffering...
I reconciled with days because of you
I forgave the time because of you
With you I forgot my pains
And I forgot with you my misery.
Your eyes took me back to my days that are gone
They taught me to regret the past and its wounds.
Whatever I saw before my eyes saw you was a wasted life.
How could they consider that part of my life?
You are my life that starts its dawn with your light.

البارودي - شفني وجدي وأبلاني السهر \ ترجمة انجليزية

 

البارودي - شفني وجدي وأبلاني السهر \ ترجمة انجليزية

اليوم, 15:51

البارودي - شفني وجدي وأبلاني السهر \ ترجمة انجليزية
سبق لي وأن ترجمت القصيدة أعلاه تحت عنوان : classical Arab poetry من ضمنها خمس قصائد أخرى للشاعر ذاته
هذه ترجمة أخرى للقصيدة
البارودي
شَفَّنِي وَجْدِي وأَبْلانِي السَّهَرْ وَتَغَشَّتْنِي سَمَادِيرُ الْكَدَرْ
فَسَوادُ اللَّيْلِ مَا إِنْ يَنْقَضِي وَبَيَاضُ الصُّبْحِ مَا إِنْ يُنْتَظَرْ
لا أَنِيسٌ يَسْمَعُ الشَّكْوَى وَلا خَبَرٌ يَأْتِي وَلا طَيْفٌ يَمُرْ
بَيْنَ حِيطَانٍ وَبَابٍ مُوصَدٍ كُلَّمَا حَرَّكَهُ السَّجَّانُ صَرْ
يَتَمَشَّى دُونَهُ حَتَّى إِذَا لَحِقَتْهُ نَبْأَةٌ مِنِّي اسْتَقَرْ
كُلَّمَا دُرْتُ لأَقْضِي حَاجَةً قَالَتِ الظُّلْمَةُ مَهْلاً لا تَدُرْ
أَتَقَرَّى الشَّيءَ أَبْغِيهِ فَلا أَجِدُ الشَّيءَ وَلا نَفْسِي تَقَرْ
ظُلْمَةٌ مَا إِنْ بِهَا مِنْ كَوْكَبٍ غَيرُ أَنْفَاسٍ تَرامَى بِالشَّرَرْ
فَاصْبِرِي يَا نَفْسُ حَتَّى تَظْفَرِي إِنَّ حُسْنَ الصَّبْر مِفْتَاحُ الظَّفَرْ
هِيَ أَنْفَاسٌ تقَضَّى وَالْفَتَى حَيْثُمَا كَانَ أَسِيرٌ لِلْقَدَرْ

Al- Barudi
Wasted by grief, worn out by lack of sleep,
I am blinded by curtains of care.
Neither will the darkness of night pass,
Nor is the bright morning to be expected.
There is no companion to listen to my complaint,
No news to come, no figure to pass my way.
(Here I am) between the walls and behind a door securely bolted.
Which creaked as soon as the jailer began to open it,
Pacing up and down he is outside.
But at the slightest sound I make he halts.
Whenever I turn to do a thing darkness says to me-
Hold it, do not move.
I grope my way, looking for what I want,
But neither do I find the object of my search.
Nor does my soul find its repose.
Darkness without a single star,
Broken only by the fire of my breath.
So be patient, my soul, till you attain your desire,
For good patience is the key to success.
We are indeed no more than breaths which are spent,
And man is a prisoner of Fate, wherever he may be