مجلة السنونو ( العدد الثامن ) - شعر مترجم - قصيدة اسطنبول - بقلم: جهاد الزين - الانكليزية

مجلة السنونو ( العدد الثامن ) - شعر مترجم

قصيدة اسطنبول ... السفينة الأولى ...  ( بقلم: جهاد الزين ) :ترجمة: رغيد نحاس

The Poem Of Istanbul The First Ship Jehad Al Zain Translated By: Raghid Nahhas The sailor's wife has told me that the sea is not water all those who thought it was, drowned… The sailor's wife has told me that the sea is color and space a violation of colors, and a passion of pearl… It derives from the earth, carried on waves of dust.   Submersed up the writs in its illusions, Like water it clarifies, creates and sparkles. Oh sea that reaches Istanbul on old man… Oh sea that leaves Istanbul a sultan whose girl-slaves are dust Here is history's rattle… and the passion embellished with the seductions of heaven. Everything in Istanbul exudes with the scent of extinction.   Passion preys upon a knight and throws him on the horseback of another god… another language on the horseback of another god…   Oh master – how your language conquers me How you seduce me with the breath of the deserts and the seas and then you let me down… When the horses became dissatisfied with the repulsiveness of the deserts, They summoned their knights among the tents and went north The land was monotonous they were bored by its invasions   and by the river's apple and the woe of peace! desires ceased to differ stabs were no longer varied they turned their tyranny unto themselves to discover their journey within and when they found no prophet in their midst they became frightened and their bodies became exposed with the vanity of words.   She spoke to me wearing her Roman caftan and a shawl healed by the pleasant Anatolian mornings   An empty harbour hallucinating And whistling in my veins Drowning in the depth of the room… And the door is far away and firm But the light strikes the door-gap like a knife Cutting the fragile timber, slightly pushing And the shawl disappears behind the door... This door is my assure abode Every scent will come from your departure.   The first herds of Of a million ibexes… Coming each by each, Departed my yearing And crawled towards me through the rugged path From the tips of the mountains of  wakefulness. At the end of the room, Under the timber roofed with tiles, The blue spread dark like a shade When the Bosporus released it In preparation for the afternoon   The sailor's wife sets out between The narrowness of the coast and life And in my fractures   At the end of the room where my satisfaction Floats in the bed of time, lie Two centuries of passion And lushness and embankments For my bridges   Under this timber impregnated with lust I am the happiest corpse in the universe How a fair woman could Strike at my roots   At the door, there is a deer of royal lineage.   Bred by the inland shepherds… How come it does not know that this sea Is the conquest of the inland plains!   It knows the sea and the ceremonies of noble betrayals It knows about the northerly wind and the northerly seductions Then it cries whenever on the waves a gasping captive appears: Salonika… Salonika… Don't say: "A Roman land betrayed the salt", But say it charmed it…   It assembled its primary fragments… And went on a mysterious wandering I am Istanbul O Master My names as well as my graves Shall drift away From the sea in which I Entrusted all the conning of gods All my names carry the blood of gods The mood of gods The stubbornness of gods.

WEBMASTER : AA-ALSAAD

This Web Site Programmed and Written By ABD ALMASSIH JAMIL ALSAAD ..... Copyright 2003 (C) SCOPNET  All Rights Reserved