جزء من حـــياة A bit of a life

جزء من حـــياة

 
 
مِن المُحتَمَل..
 
أنني قد راقبت يومًا
 
سقوطَ الشمسِ..
 
و تلقَّيت الذهبَ المتناثرَ منها
 
فوق راحتيّ البحر،
 
و أطبقت ضلوعي
 
على بقايا الدفءِ الهارب،
 
و فتَّشتُ عن الودعِ بدأب..
 
في كومات الرمل
 
و ذرعت المدينة..
 
جيئة و ذهابًا،
 
تسكَّعت على المقاهي العتيقة
 
و احتسيت زجاجات البيرة،
 
التقيت أصدقاء و زوارًا،
 
و جالست أدباءا و ثوارًا،
 
و قضيت بين الطاولات المزدحمة
 
ساعاتٍ طوالا..
 
و صعدتُ وهبطُّ
 
شوارعًا و حوارٍ،
 
بل أذكر أنني
 
قد ابتعت يومًا..
 
مِن الناصية التالية
 
مِزمارًا..
 
و وقفت أسفلَ شُرفة
 
أرقبُ الصُحُفَ المُبتلّة،
 
و الأرديةَ الثقيلة..
 
أعبث بقدمي
 
في بركة المياه الصغيرة،
 
لأصنع دوائرَ
 
لا تنتهي..
 
و من المحتمل أيضا أنني؛
 
قد صادفت حضنًا..
 
وبعض القُبُلات
 
السريعة،
 
و ابتسمت للبائع الضرير
 
و أنا أعطيه ثمن جوربي،
 
ثم قضيت اليوم..
 
أضع ساقًا فوق ساقٍ
 
لأرى الألوان البهيجة..
 
حقًا؛
 
ربما لَملَمت يومًا..
 
سعاداتٍ كثيرة:
 
صحوت في فراشٍ دافئ
 
- لم أسعل و لم يكن أنفي يسيل -
 
و لم يلُح بمعطفي الصوفيّ
 
ثقبٌ كبير..
 
و احتفظت له عند صدري،
 
ببضعة أزرارٍ عالقة..
 
و استطعت مرة أو اثنتين
 
أن أصنعَ غيمةً ثقيلة..
 
على واجهةٍ زجاجيةٍ باردة،
 
و رسمت بأصبعي
 
شِراعًا عريضًا
 
و دائرةً في أعلى الغيمةِ
 
و خطوطًا مُتعرِّجة..
 
و افترشت الدكة الخشبية
 
الكالحة،
 
غير ذات ظهيرة،
 
ووضعت أسفل رأسي
 
كومة نفايات جميلة
 
انتقيتها بحرصٍ..
 
بالغٍ.
 
و سكنت درجات الترام..
 
أيامًا لا أحصيها،
 
بل وجلست
 
بعض المرات
 
على المقعد الجلديّ الوثير،
 
فتحت فمي للرياح،
 
و أخرجت رأسي من النافذة.
 
احتفظت في ذاكرتي..
 
بعناوين عديدة،
 
كما امتلكت بعض الأوقات..
 
جريدة،
 
و جمعت نجومًا،
 
ملئ جيوبي
 
و أوراقًا ملونة..
 
أقول لك؟
 
فعلت للحقِّ أشياءً كثيرة
 
لكني حتمًا
 
لم آت هنا من قبل
 
ولم أصادفكَ أبدًا..
 
فقط
 
لو تُعطِني
 
كِسرة خبزٍ
 
تُسكِتُ جوعي،
 
فمِن المُحتمل..
 
أن أملك ذات يومٍ
 
ما نقتسم:
 
شطيرة لحمٍ لطيفة،
 
كتابًا،
 
حذاءً،
 
صحيفة..
 
أو كِسرةَ خُبزٍ أخرى..تكون في مِخلَتي.
 
 
 

A bit of a life

I probably did—
 
observe one day
 
the fall of the sun
and caught the gold that was scattered
in the palm of the sea
and enclosed my ribs about
the last escaping heat
as I searched for a farewell
sifting through piles of sand
 
And I paced the city
back and forth
I hung around in the old cafes
sipping at bottles of beer
I met with friends and passers-by
sat with literati and revolutionaries
and among the crowded tables I spent
long hours
 
I went up and down
streets and discussions
but I remember that once
I bought
from the other end of the street
a mizmar!
And I stood under a balcony
observing wet newspapers
and the heavy clothes
shifting my feet
in a puddle
making endless circles
 

A chunk / piece / section of a life

It is probable / likely . . .
 
That I have seen / that I saw, one day
 
The collapse of the sun . . .
And got the gold that was scattered / dispersed / strewn around / sprinkled from it (or by it, or ‘its scattered [etc] gold’)
Above / over the sea’s palms [as in hand, not tree]
 
And closed my ribs
Around the remains of the fleeing warmth
And searched for a farewell with persistence . . . [the search or etc being described here, not the farewell; it’s an adverb]
In the piles of sand
 
And I crossed / measured the city . . .
Coming and going
I loitered around / in the old cafes
And sipped at/from beer bottles / bottles of beer
I met friends and visitors
And sat with writers and revolutionaries [end word rhymes with previous line]
And I spent between the crowded tables
Long hours . . .
 
And I ascended and descended
Streets and discussions
But I remember that I
Bought one day . . .
 
From the next end of the street
A mizmar . . .
And stood under a balcony
 
Watching the wet newspapers
And the heavy clothes . . .
 
I fiddle with my feet
in a little pool of water
So that I make / in order to make / making circles
that do not end . . .
 
And it is probable that also I;
 
Encountered by chance an embrace . . .
 
and some kisses
 
rapid,
And I smiled at the blind seller
As I gave him the price of my socks
 
Then I spent the day . . .
Crossing my legs
So as to / in order to / and then seeing the cheerful colours . . .
 
Really;
 
Perhaps I gathered together one day . . .
Many happinesses:
I awoke in a warm bed
— I didn’t cough and my nose wasn’t running ––
And didn’t appear on my woollen coat
 
A big hole . . .
And I kept it [the coat] over my chest
With a few buttons hanging off . . .
 
And I was able once or twice
To manufacture a heavy cloud
On the front of a cold bottle,
And I draw with my finger
A wide sail
And a circle at the top of the cloud
And zigzagging lines . . .
 
And I stretched out on the wooden bench
The heavy,
With no back [the bench not her]
And put under my head
 
A pile of beautiful rubbish / a beautiful pile of rubbish
I had chosen with care . . .
 
Extreme.
 
And I occupied the steps of the tram . . .
For days I cannot count,
 
In fact I sat
A few times
On the soft leather seat,
Opened my mouth to the winds,
And stuck my head out of the window.
 
I preserved in my memory . . .
Many addresses,
 
Like I possessed on some occasions . . .
A newspaper,
And I gathered stars,
That filled my pockets
And coloured papers . . .
 
Shall I tell you?
I did in fact many things
But I definitely
Haven’t been here before
And I haven’t stumbled upon you ever . . .
Only
If you give me
A morsel of bread
To shut up my hunger,
Then it’s probable . . .
That I will possess one day
Something for us to share out:
A charming*** meat sandwich,
A book,
Some shoes,
A newspaper . . .
Or another scrap of bread
That will be in my nap sack
 

NB In Arabic this poem has rhythm and some end of line rhymes.

*** The poet uses an adjective that usually is a human quality, being gentle, kind, refined, graceful, elegant, etc. She could be just referring to the delicacy that is the sandwich, or how fresh it is, how soft the bread. It’s an unusual way to say it though.

When the bridge translator Alice Guthrie asked her about this she said:

“Describing the sandwich as لطيفة is really strange, but note that the speaking voice is for an odd person, who is actually like a vagabond living in streets, sleeping in gardens, so also having a strange way to express feelings, a meat sandwich is a charming miracle for such a character who barely can get a piece of bread if any.”

The poem that we eventually titled ‘A bit of a life’ is a dramatic monologue. It is
spoken from the point of view of a character Abdel Aziz herself describes as a
‘vagabond’. The original is much longer than the small section we were able to deal
with in the space of a two and a half hour workshop.

Perhaps the most difficult part of translating the poem was the punctuation. We
soon learnt that in Arabic punctuation is used in very different ways to those English
readers are used to, and with much more freedom. For instance, ellipses are
startlingly common and do not necessarily suggest a tailing off. This seemed to be
a poem of striking and complex imagery, where wonderful and weird depictions
come thick and fast, seeming to blend and blur into one another. The voice
appeared to be as errant as the persona.

As a result, we were limited by the amount we could do, but we wanted to shape the
small part of this ‘bit of a life’ into something that worked in isolation. So we
concentrated on these first few stanzas and maintaining the ambiguities and
complexities of the imagery. The process was slow, almost archaeological, as if we
were ‘sifting through piles of sand’. Did we feel we were successful? Not entirely,
but we did feel we uncovered enough to piece together a character and see the
world through their eyes for a moment.

– Emily Hasler, Poet Facilitator

Original Poem by

Basma Abdel Aziz

Translated by

Alice Guthrie with Poetry Translation Workshop - Torquay Language

Arabic

Country

Egypt