نهايات Ends

  نهايات

أَرْضَتْ لَكَ الماضي
أَزَاحَتْ
ملمَسَ اللَّحظةِ
عن جسمِ المكان الأَوَّلِ
في اللَّحظةِ الأُولَى، أَضاءتْ!
..............
هي سُلُّمٌ لنداءِ الطُّيورِ الشَّرِيدَةِ
من الطَّقْسِ المُكْتَظِّ بالهواءِ الفسيحِ
لخُصُوصِيَّةِ الموقِدِ
لهديلِ التَّهَدُّجِ
في الجَّنَاحِ الهزيلِ
واْشْتِباكِ الحُوْصِلات
 
سُلُّمٌ
لاْقْتِناصِ الضُّوءِ من الدَّمعِ
لعناقِ الشَّمعةِ في وحْدَتها
................
قُرْبَهَا تجلسُ الظَّهيرةُ
في متناولِ الرَّاحَة
حيثُ تعبثُ بالرَّوائحِ والمعاني
قطارٌ يعبرُ العمرَ الممرَّ
وتمضي شوارعُ الطُّفولةِ
 
آخِرُ الأَشياءِ، على الكُرْسِيِّ
يُبْقِيكَ
مذاقُ الشَّايِ
وضحكتُها الفاكهَةْ
 
تعبرُ أخرى غيابَكَ
يعبرُ الباقونَ
حيثُ تُقْعِي مُصْغِياً
فيما ذاهبٌ فيكَ وراءَ الحائطِ
مسمارٌ وحيدْ!.
 
 
 

Ends

She made sense of your past
She lifted the weight of the present
in an instant
When she came,
light dawned
.......
 
A ladder for lost birds
tossed in the winds,
or splayed on the grill -
their smothered cooing
their withering wings
their dismembered craws
 
A ladder
that steals light from a tear
for a candle embracing its loneliness
.......
 
The sad afternoon settles near her
close to hand
She toys with scents and meanings
A train travels down the tunnel of a lifetime
and the streets of your childhood fade into the distance
 
Something tossed on a chair
makes you linger -  
the scent of her tea
her fruitful laughter
 
Another woman crosses your absence
and the rest pass by
As you strain to listen
it goes right through you -
a solitary nail
hammered in a wall
 

Ends

She wanted the past for you
She removed it
The touch of the moment
From the first body of the place
At the first moment, she enlightened!
.......
She is a ladder to the travelling birds
From the weather laden with an expansive air
The peculiarity of the oven
To the miming of birds
And their fullness
Apparent on the fragile wing
And in the clash of souls.
 
A ladder
To snipe the light in the tear
To embrace the candle in its own
.......
The afternoon sits next to her
It could be grape with comfort,
She plays with smells and meanings
A train that passes through the passing age,
It runs over the roads of childhood.
 
The last thing on the chair,
It keeps you,
The smell of the tea,
And her fruity smile,
 
You cross the last memory of your absence
The other passes bye too
You fall down while listening
Your shadow goes behind the wall
One lonely nail!
 
 
 

Original Poem by

Al-Saddiq Al-Raddi

Translated by

Atef Alshaer with Sarah Maguire Language

Arabic

Country

Sudan