الموضوع: جون جوردان-هذه القصائد
عرض مشاركة واحدة
قديم 08-31-2011, 07:01 PM
المشاركة 13
الصورة الرمزية رقية صالح
رقية صالح
أديبـة وكاتبـة سوريــة

اوسمتي

  • غير موجود
افتراضي



I should have been lighter skinned and
that I should have had straighter hair
and that I should not be so boy crazy
but instead I should
just be one/a boy
and before that
it was my mother
pleading plastic surgery for
my nose and braces
for my teeth and telling me
to let the books loose
to let them loose
in other words
I am very familiar with the problems
of the C.I.A.
and the problems of South Africa
and the problems
of Exxon Corporation
and the problems of white
America in general
and the problems of the teachers
and the preachers
and the F.B.I.
and the social
workers and my particular
Mom and Dad/I am very
familiar with the problems
because the problems
turn out to be.. me
I am the history of rape
I am the history of the rejection of
who I am
I am the history of the terrorized
incarceration of myself
I am the history of battery assault
and limitless armies against
whatever I want to do with my mind
and my body.. and my soul
and whether it’s about walking
out at night
or whether it’s about the love
that I feel or
whether it’s about the sanctity
of my vagina
or the sanctity
of my national boundaries
or the sanctity
of my leaders
or the sanctity
of each and every desire
that I know from my personal
and idiosyncratic
and indisputably single
and singular heart
I have been raped
be-
cause I have been wrong
the wrong sex the wrong age
the wrong skin the wrong nose
the wrong hair the
wrong need the wrong dream
the wrong geographic
the wrong sartorial I
I have been the meaning of rape
I have been the problem everyone
seeks to eliminate by forced
penetration with or without
the evidence of slime and
but let this be unmistakable this poem
is not consent
I do not consent
to my mother to my father
to the teachers to
the F.B.I. to South Africa
to Bedford-Stuy
to Park Avenue to American
Airlines to the hardon
idlers on the corners
to the sneaky creeps in cars
I am not wrong:
Wrong is not my name
My name is my own
my own my own
and I can’t tell you
who the hell set things up like this
but I can tell you
that from now on my resistance
my simple and daily
and nightly self-determination
may very well cost you your life


ترجمة وتقديم: عادل صالح الزبيدي

هذي دمشقُ وهذي الكأسُ والرّاحُ
إنّي أحبُّ... وبعـضُ الحبِّ ذبّاحُ
أنا الدمشقيُّ لو شرحتمُ جسدي .. لسالَ منهُ عناقيـدٌ وتفـّاحُ
ولو فتحتُم شراييني بمديتكم .. سمعتمُ في دمي أصواتَ من راحوا
زراعةُ القلبِ تشفي بعضَ من عشقوا .. وما لقلبي إذا أحببتُ جرّاحُ
مآذنُ الشّـامِ تبكي إذ تعانقني .. وللمآذنِ كالأشجارِ أرواحُ
للياسمينِ حقـوقٌ في منازلنا.. وقطّةُ البيتِ تغفو حيثُ ترتاحُ
طاحونةُ البنِّ جزءٌ من طفولتنا .. فكيفَ أنسى؟ وعطرُ الهيلِ فوّاحُ
هذا مكانُ "أبي المعتزِّ".. منتظرٌ ووجهُ "فائزةٍ" حلوٌ ولمّاحُ
هنا جذوري هنا قلبي .. هنا لغـتي فكيفَ أوضحُ؟
هل في العشقِ إيضاحُ؟

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(أعشق وطني والمطر)