الأدب

قصيدة الطين
للشاعر إيليا أبي ماضي
الترجمة: محمود عباس مسعود

THE CLAY
A Poem by Elia Abu Madi
Translated by: Mahmoud Abbas Masoud

نَسِي الْطِّيْن سَاعَة أَنَّه طِيْنٌ فِصَالَ تِيْها وعَرْبَدْ
وكَسَى الْخَزُ جِسْمَه فَتَبَاهَى .. و حَوَى الْمَالُ كِيْسَه فَتَمَرَّدْ

يَا أَخِي لا تَمِل بِوَجْهِكَ عَنِّي .. مَا أَنَا فَحْمَة ٌ و لا أَنْتَ فَرْقَدْ
أَنْت لَم تَصْنَع الْحَرِيْرَ الَّذِي .. تُلْبِس و الْلُّؤْلُؤَ الَّذِي تَتَقَلَّدْ
أَنْتَ لا تَأْكُل الْنُّضَارَ إِذَا جُعْتَ .. و لا تَشْرَب الْجَمَانَ الْمُنَضَّدْ

أَنْتَ فِي الْبُرْدَة الْمُوَشَّاة مِثْلِي .. فِي كِسَائِي الْرَّدِيْم تَشْقَى وتَسْعَدْ
لَكَ فِي عَالَم الْنَّهَار أَمَانِي .. وَرُؤَىً و الْظَّلامُ فَوْقَكَ مُمْتَدْ
و لِقَلْبِي كَمَا لِقَلْبِكَ أَحْلامٌ حِسَانٌ فَإِنَّه غَيْرُ جَلْمَدْ

At one time, Mr. Clay forgot that he was no more than mud
So, he walked insolently, bragged and boasted.
Body covered with fine silk,
He glorified himself in a self-admiring manner,
Purse full, he became haughty and rebellious!

Brother, turn not your face away from me;
I am not a charcoal, nor are you a bright star.
You did not make the silk you are wearing,
Nor the jewels with which you adorn yourself.
You cannot eat gold when hungry,
Nor drink strung pearls when thirsty.

In your fine attire, you suffer and rejoice,
Just like me in my tattered clothes.
You entertain hopes during the day,
Have dreams and visions at night.
My heart, too, has sweet dreams,
Just like yours, for it is not made of stone

أأَمَانِيَ كُلِّهِا مِن تُرَابٍ .. و أَمَانيْكَ كُلِّهِا مِن عَسْجَدْ ؟
أو أَمَانِيَ كُلُّهَا لِلْتَّلاشِي .. و أَمَانِيْكَ لِلْخُلُوْد الْمُؤَكَّدْ ؟

لا، فَهَذِي و تِلْكَ تَأْتِي و تَمْضِي .. كَذَوِيهَا، وأَي شَيْءٍ يُؤْبَّدْ
أَيُّهَا الْمُزْدَهِي إِذَا مَسَّكَ الْسَّقَمُ أَلا تَشْتَكِي ؟ أَلا تَتَنَهَّدْ ؟

وإِذَا رَاعَكَ الْحَبِيْبُ بِهَجْرٍ .. وَدَّعَتْك الْذِّكْرَى أَلا تَتَوَجّدْ ؟
أَنْتَ مِثْلِي يَبِشُّ وَجْهُكَ لِلْنُّعْمَى .. و فِي حَالَة الْمُصِيْبَةِ يَكْمَدْ

أَّدُمُوْعِي خَلٌ و دَمْعُكَ شَهْدٌ .. و بُكَائِي ذُلٌ ونَوْحُكَ سُؤْدَدْ ؟
وَابْتِسَامَتِي الْسَّرَابُ لا رَيّ فِيْهِ .. و ابْتِسّامْتَكَ الْلآلِي الْخُرَّد ؟

Are all my wishes made of dust,
While yours fashioned of pure gold?
Or are all my wishes doomed to vanish
While yours are destined for immortality?

Nay! My wishes and yours, alike, come and go,
Like any others, for nothing is everlasting.
You, who so bent on exhibiting self-esteem,
When struck by disease, don’t you complain and groan?
Don’t you sigh and moan?

When your sweetheart forsakes you,
Don’t you sorely miss her when remembering her?
Like me, you smile for favorable circumstances
And frown when visited by calamitous events.

Are my tears bitter like gall,
While yours are nectar-sweet?
Is my weeping a humiliation
While yours is victory?
Are my smiles waterless like a desert mirage,
While yours are shimmering jewels

فَلَكٌ وَاحِدٌ يُظِل كِلَيْنَا .. حَارَ طَرْفِي بِهِ و طَرْفُكَ أَرْمَدْ
قَمَرٌ وَاحِدٌ يُطِلُّ عَلَيْنَا .. وعَلَى الْكُوْخِ و الْبِنَاء الْمُوَطَّدْ

إِن يَكُن مُشْرِقا لِعَيْنَيْكَ، إِنِّي .. لا أَرَاهُ مِن كُوَّة الْكُوْخِ أَسْوَدْ
أَلْنُجُوْمُ الَّتِي تَرَاهَا أَرَاهَا .. حِيْنَ تَخْفَى وعِنْدَمَا تَتَوَقَّدْ
لَسْتَ أَدْنَى عَلَى غِنَاكَ إِلَيْهَا .. و أَنَا مَع خَصَاصَتِي لَسْتُ أَبْعَدْ

One firmament spreads over both of us,
A scene that amazes and dazzles my sight,
While your eyes unmindful, lacking awareness of it.
One single moon gazes upon us,
As she gazes upon a shack and magnificent edifice.

If she seems bright to your eyes,
I do not see her dark from the crack of my shanty.
The same stars you see, I also behold,
When faint or gloriously ablaze.
With all your riches, you are no closer to them than me,
Nor am I any distant from them, despite my wretchedness

أَنْت مِثْلِي مِن الْثَّرَى و إِلَيْه.. فَلِمَاذَا ، يَا صَاحِبِي الْتَّيْهُ و الْصَّدْ ؟
كُنْتَ طِفْلا إِذ كُنْتُ طِفْلا وتَغْدُو .. حِيْن أَغْدُو شَيْخا كَبِيْرا أَدْرَدْ

لَسْتُ أَدْرِي مِن أَيْنَ جِئْتُ و لا.. مَا كُنْتُ ،أَو مَا أَكُوْنُ يَا صَاح فِي غَدْ
أَفَتَدْرِي ؟ إِذَن فَخَبِّرْ وإِلا.. فَلِمَاذَا تَظُن أَنَّك أَوْحَدْ ؟

Like me, from dust you came, and to dust you shall return,
Why then so much pride and aloofness?
You were a child when I was a child,
You will grow old; I, too, will advance in age
And become toothless.

I neither know where I came from,
I possess no knowledge of my past
Nor do I know what the future holds for me.
If you do know, say it
Otherwise, why should you fancy yourself unique

أَلَكَ الْقَصْرُ دُوْنَهُ الْحَرَسُ الْشَّاكِي و مِن حَوْلِهِ الْجِدَارُ الْمُشَيَّدْ
فَامْنَعْ الْلَّيْلَ أَن يَمُدُّ روَاقا فَوْقَهُ ، و الْضَّبَابَ أَن يَتَبَلَّدْ

وَانْظُر الْنُّوْرَ كَيْفَ يَدْخُل لا يَطْلُب أُذُنَا ، فَمَا لَه يَطْرُدْ ؟
مَرْقَدٌ وَاحِدٌ نَصِيْبُكَ مِنْهُ .. أَفَتَدْرِي كَم فِيْكَ لِلْذ ّر مَرْقَد ؟

ذُدْتَني عَنْهُ ، و الْعَوَاصِفُ تَعْدُو .. فِي طِلابِي ، و الْجَوُّ أَقْتَمُ أَرْبَدْ
بَيْنَمَا الكلبُ وَاجِدٌ فيهِ مَأْوَىً .. وطَعَاماً، و الْهِر كَالْكَلْب يُرْفَدْ
فَسَمِعْتُ الْحَيَاة َ تَضْحَكُ مِنِّي .. أَتَرَجَّى، و مِنْكَ تَأْبَى و تَجْحَدْ

You live in a stately palace, well-protected by armed guards
And fenced all-around with high walls,
Prevent, if you will, the night from spreading over it,
Stop the fog from thickly gathering above it.

Notice how the light enters freely
without ever asking for your permission!
So why should it be chased away?
One single resting place is your final lot,
Do you know how many lots and spots
Your decaying corpse will provide
For grazing worms and hungry maggots?

You have closed the doors of your palace in my face
When chased by storms and threatened by inclement weather,
Yet you made accommodations
And generously provided for your dogs and cats.
Thus, I heard life laughing at me for my begging
And mocking you for your miserly denial

أَلَك الْرَّوْضَة ُ الْجَمِيْلَة ُ فِيْهَا الْمَاءُ و الَطَيْرُ و الأزَاهِرُ والْنّدْ ؟
فَازْجُر الرِّيَحَ أَن تَهْزَّ و تَلْوِي .. شَجَرَ الْرَّوْضِ – إِنَّه يَتَأَوَّدْ

و الْجُم الْمَاءَ فِي الْغَدَيْر و مُرْهُ .. لا يُصَفِّق إَلا وأَنْتَ بِمَشْهَدْ
إِن طَيْرَ الأَرَاكِ لَيْسَ يُبَالِي .. أَنْتَ أَصْغَيْتَ أَم أَنَا إِن غَرَّدْ
و الأزَاهِيْرُ لَيْس تَسْخَر مِن فَقَرِي ، و لا فِيْكَ لِلْغِنَى تَتَوَدَّد

You who have a charmingly beautiful garden,
With water, birds, flowers, and fragrant shrubs,
Rebuke then the wind for swaying, bending
And upsetting the trees in your garden.

And stop, if you can, the water in the pond,
Order it not to make swishing sounds
Unless in your presence, under your watchful eye.
When the bird sings on the tall tree,
It cares not, whether you or I
Listen to its melodies.
Flowers deride not my poverty,
Nor coax and flatter your riches

أَلَكَ الْنَّهْرُ ؟ إِنَّهُ لِلْنَّسِيْم الرَّطْبِ دَرْبٌ و لِّلْعَصَافِيْرِ مَوْرِدْ
وهُو لِلْشُّهُبِ تَسْتَحِمُ بِهِ فِي الْصَّيْفِ لَيْلاً كَأَنَّهَا تَتَبَرَّدْ

تَدَّعِيْهِ فَهَلْ بِأَمْرِكَ يَجْرِي .. فِي عُرُوْق الأَشْجَارِ أَو يَتَجَعَّدْ ؟
كَانَ مِن قَبْلُ أَن تَجِيْءَ و تَمَضْي .. و هُو بَاقٍ فِي الأَرْض لِلْجَزرِ والْمَدْ

Do you consider the river to be exclusively yours?
Nay! It is rather a pathway for the soft breeze
It is a source of water for the birds to drink.
It belongs to the luminaries
To bathe in its cool water, in the summer nights.

You assume it is yours,
Yet, does it meander and flow into the veins of trees
By your command?
It was here long before you came to this world,
It will still be here long after you have departed this life.
It will ever remain, alternating between ebb and flow

أَلَكَ الْحَقْلُ ؟ هَذِه الْنَّحْلُ تَجْنِي الْشَّهْدَ مِن زَهْرَهِ و لاتَتَرَدَّدْ
و أَرَى لِلْنَّمْل مُِلكَاً كَبِيْراً قَد بَنَتْهُ بِالْكَدْح فِيْهِ و بِالْكَدْ
أَنْتَ فِي شَرْعِهَا دَخِيْلٌ عَلَى الْحَقْلِ و لِصٌ جَنَى عَلَيْهَا فَأَفْسَدْ
لَو مَلَكْتَ الْحُقُوْلَ فِي الأرْض طُراً لَم تَكُن مِن فَرَاشَةِ الْحَقْل أَسْعَدْ

Do you think the meadow belongs to you?
Behold the bees unhesitatingly sip nectar from its flowers.
I see how the ants so laboriously built colonies in its soil!

According to their law and logic, you are an intruder,
A thief, who has usurped their rights, disturbed their harmony.
Even if you owned all the fields of the world,
You will never be happier than the butterfly of the field

أَجَمِيلٌ ؟ مَا أَنْت أَبْهَى مِن الْوَرْدَةِ ذَات الْشَّذَى و لا أَنْتَ أَجْوَدْ
أَم عَزِيْزٌ ؟ و لِلْبَعُوضَةِ مِن خَدَّيْكَ قُوْتٌ و فِي يَدَيْكَ الْمُهَنَّدْ

أَم غَنِيٌ ؟ هَيْهَاتِ تَخْتَالَ لَوْلا دُوْدَة الْقَزّ بِالْحُبَاء المبَجّدْ
أَم قَوِيٌ ؟ إِذَن مُر الْنَّوْمَ إِذ يَغْشَاكَ و الْلَّيْلَ عَن جَفَوْنِكَ يَرْتَدْ

وَامْنَع الْشَّيْبَ أَن يُلِمَ بِفَوّدَيكَ و مُرْ الْنَّضَارَة تَلْبَثُ فِي الْخَدْ
أَعَلِيمٌ ؟ فَمَا الْخَيَالُ الَّذِي يَطْرُق لَيْلاً ؟ فِي أَي دُنْيَا يُوَلِّد ؟
مَا الْحَيَاةُ الَّتِي تُبَيِّنُ و تُخْفِى ؟ مَا الْزَّمَانُ الَّذِي يُذَمُ و يُحْمَدْ ؟

Do you consider yourself beautiful?
Well, you are no lovelier, nor more generous
Than a rose, that exudes its fragrance.
Do you deem yourself mighty, with sword in your hand?
Then it is odd that a mosquito should extract nourishment
From your cheeks!
Do you think you are rich?
In vain would you enjoy your costly attire
Had it not been for the silkworm that made it possible for you
To revel in your fine apparel.
Do you think you are strong?
If so, command sleep not to overtake you;
Order the dark to turn away from your eyelids.

Ask gray hair not to approach and appear in your head,
Bid freshness to remain forever in your cheeks.
Do you think you are knowledgeable?
Then tell me where does imagination come from?
In which vale or valley is it born?
What is the Life that appears and disappears?
What is the Time that people praise and blame

أَيُّهَا الْطِّيْنُ لَسْتَ أَنْقَى و أَسْمَى مِن تُرَابٍ تَدُوْسَ أَو تَتَوَسَّدْ
إِن قَصْراً سَمَكْتَه سَوْفَ يَنْدَكُ ، و ثَوْبَاً حَبَكْتَهُ سَوْفَ يَنْقَدّ ْ

لا يَكُنْ لِلْخِصَام قَلْبُكَ مَأْوَى .. إِن قَلْبِي لِلْحُبِ أَصْبَحَ مَعْبَدْ
أَنَا أَوْلَى بِالْحُبِّ مِنْكَ و أَحْرَى مَن كِسَاءٍ يَبْلَى و مَالٍ يَنْفَدْ

O Clay! You are neither purer than, nor superior to
The dirt you walk on, which someday will enclose you.
No matter how sturdily built a palace you dwell in,
In time, it will surely be completely torn down.
It doesn't matter how finely sewn a robe you wear,
Someday it will be tattered and become ragged.

Let no hate and enmity enter your heart,
I have turned mine into a temple of love.
I am more deserving of your love
Than clothes that will wear out and rot
And money that will be spent or lost