منتديات منابر ثقافية - عرض مشاركة واحدة - فدريكو غارسيا لوركا : Fedrico Garcia Lorca 1898

12-14-2010, 09:36 PM

المشاركة 29

رقية صالح

أديبـة وكاتبـة سوريــة

اوسمتي

مجموع الاوسمة: 1



" Lament for Ignacio Sanchez Mejias "

- Lorca -

III

The Laid Out Body

Stone is a forehead where dreames grieve

without curving waters and frozen cypresses

Stone is a shoulder on which to bear Time

with trees formed of tears and ribbons and planets

I have seen grey showers move towards the waves

raising their tender riddle arms

to avoid being caught by lying stone

which loosens their limbs without soaking their blood

For stone gathers seed and clouds

skeleton larks and wolves of penumbra:

but yields not sounds nor crystals nor fire

only bull rings and bull rings and more bull rings without walls

Now, Ignacio the well born lies on the stone

All is finished. What is happening! Contemplate his face:

death has covered him with pale sulphur

and has place on him the head of dark minotaur

All is finished. The rain penetrates his mouth

The air, as if mad, leaves his sunken chest

and Love, soaked through with tears of snow

warms itself on the peak of the herd

What is they saying? A stenching silence settles down

We are here with a body laid out which fades away

with a pure shape which had nightingales

and we see it being filled with depthless holes

Who creases the shroud? What he says is not true

Nobody sings here, nobody weeps in the corner

nobody pricks the spurs, nor terrifies the serpent

Here I want nothing else but the round eyes

to see his body without a chance of rest

Here I want to see those men of hard voice

Those that break horses and dominate rivers

those men of sonorous skeleton who sing

with a mouth full of sun and flint

Here I want to see them. Before the stone

Before this body with broken reins

I want to know from them the way out

for this captain stripped down by death

I want them to show me a lament like a river

wich will have sweet mists and deep shores

to take the body of Ignacio where it looses itself

without hearing the double planting of the bulls

Loses itself in the round bull ring of the moon

which feigns in its youth a sad quiet bull

loses itself in the night without song of fishes

and in the white thicket of frozen smoke

I don't want to cover his face with handkerchiefs

that he may get used to the death he carries

Go, Ignacio, feel not the hot bellowing

Sleep, fly, rest: even the sea dies

ترجمة: عدي الحربش

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)

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