السبت، 20 مارس 2010

The Rime of the Ancient Mariner


PART ONE


IT IS an ancient Mariner,

And he stoppeth one of three.

'By thy long grey beard and glittering eye,

Now wherefore stopp'st thou me?



The Bridegroom's doors are opened wide,

And I am next of kin;

The guests are met, the feast is set:

May'st hear the merry din.'



He holds him with his skinny hand,

'There was a ship,' quoth he.

'Hold off! unhand me, grey-beard loon!'

Eftsoons his hand dropt he.



He holds him with his glittering eye--

The Wedding-Guest stood still,

And listens like a three years' child:

The Mariner hath his will.



The Wedding-Guest sat on a stone:

He cannot choose but hear;

And thus spake on that ancient man,

The bright-eyed Mariner.



'The ship was cheered, the harbour cleared,

Merrily did we drop

Below the kirk, below the hill,

Below the lighthouse top.



The Sun came up upon the left,

Out of the sea came he!

And he shone bright, and on the right

Went down into the sea.



Higher and higher every day,

Till over the mast at noon--'

The Wedding-Guest here beat his breast,

For he heard the loud bassoon.



The bride hath paced into the hall,

Red as a rose is she;

Nodding their heads before her goes

The merry minstrelsy.



The Wedding-Guest he beat his breast,

Yet he cannot choose but hear;

And thus spake on that ancient man,

The bright-eyed Mariner.



And now the Storm-blast came, and he

Was tyrannous and strong:

He struck with his o'ertaking wings,

And chased us south along.



With sloping masts and dipping prow,

As who pursued with yell and blow

Still treads the shadow of his foe,

And forward bends his head,

The ship drove fast, loud roared the blast,

And southward aye we fled.



And now there came both mist and snow,

And it grew wondrous cold:

And ice, mast-high, came floating by,

As green as emerald.



And through the drifts the snowy clifts

Did send a dismal sheen:

Nor shapes of men nor beasts we ken--

The ice was all between.



The ice was here, the ice was there,

The ice was all around:

It cracked and growled, and roared and howled,

Like noises in a swound!



At length did cross an Albatross,

Thorough the fog it came;

As if it had been a Christian soul,

We hailed it in God's name.



It ate the food it ne'er had eat,

And round and round it flew.

The ice did split with a thunder-fit;

The helmsman steered us through!



And a good south wind sprung up behind;

The Albatross did follow,

And every day, for food or play,

Came to the mariners' hollo!



In mist or cloud, on mast or shroud,

It perched for vespers nine;

Whiles all the night, through fog-smoke white,

Glimmered the white Moon-shine.'



'God save thee, ancient Mariner!

From the fiends, that plague thee thus!--

Why look'st thou so?'--'With my cross-bow

I shot the Albatross.'



PART TWO



THE Sun now rose upon the right:

Out of the sea came he,

Still hid in mist, and on the left

Went down into the sea.



And the good south wind still blew behind,

But no sweet bird did follow,

Nor any day for food or play

Came to the mariners' hollo!



And I had done a hellish thing,

And it would work 'em woe:

For all averred, I had killed the bird

That made the breeze to blow.

Ah wretch! said they, the bird to slay,

That made the breeze to blow!



Nor dim nor red like God's own head,

The glorious Sun uprist:

Then all averred, I had killed the bird

That brought the fog and mist.

'Twas right, said they, such birds to slay,

That bring the fog and mist.



The fair breeze blew, the white foam flew,

The furrow followed free;

We were the first that ever burst

Into that silent sea.



Down dropt the breeze, the sails dropt down,

'Twas sad as sad could be;

And we did speak only to break

The silence of the sea!



All in a hot and copper sky,

The bloody Sun, at noon,

Right up above the mast did stand,

No bigger than the Moon.



Day after day, day after day,

We stuck, nor breath nor motion;

As idle as a painted ship

Upon a painted ocean.



Water, water, every where,

And all the boards did shrink;

Water, water, every where,

Nor any drop to drink.



The very deep did rot: O Christ!

That ever this should be!

Yea, slimy things did crawl with legs

Upon the slimy sea.



About, about, in reel and rout

The death-fires danced at night;

The water, like a witch's oils,

Burnt green, and blue and white.



And some in dreams assur'ed were

Of the Spirit that plagued us so;

Nine fathom deep he had followed us

From the land of mist and snow.



And every tongue, through utter drought,

Was withered at the root;

We could not speak, no more than if

We had been choked with soot.



Ah! well a-day! what evil looks

Had I from old and young!

Instead of the cross, the Albatross

About my neck was hung.



PART THREE



THERE passed a weary time. Each throat

Was parched, and glazed each eye.

A weary time! a weary time!

How glazed each weary eye,

When looking westward, I beheld

A something in the sky.



At first it seemed a little speck,

And then it seemed a mist;

It moved and moved, and took at last

A certain shape, I wist.



A speck, a mist, a shape, I wist!

And still it neared and neared:

As if it dodged a water-sprite,

It plunged and tacked and veered.



With throats unslaked, with black lips baked,

We could nor laugh nor wail;

Through utter drought all dumb we stood!

I bit my arm, I sucked the blood,

And cried, A sail! a sail!



With throats unslaked, with black lips baked,

Agape they heard me call:

Gramercy! they for joy did grin

And all at once their breath drew in,

As they were drinking all.



See! see! (I cried) she tacks no more!

Hither to work us weal;

Without a breeze, without a tide,

She steadies with upright keel!



The western wave was all a-flame.

The day was well nigh done!

Almost upon the western wave

Rested the broad bright Sun;

When that strange shape drove suddenly

Betwixt us and the Sun.



And straight the Sun was flecked with bars,

(Heaven's Mother send us grace!)

As if through a dungeon-grate he peered

With broad and burning face.



Alas! (thought I, and my heart beat loud)

How fast she nears and nears!

Are those her sails that glance in the Sun,

Like restless gossameres?



Are those her ribs through which the Sun

Did peer, as through a grate?

And is that Woman all her crew?

Is that a DEATH? and are there two?

Is DEATH that woman's mate?



Her lips were red, her looks were free,

Her locks were yellow as gold:

Her skin was as white as leprosy,

The Night-mare Life-in-Death was she,

Who thicks man's blood with cold.



The naked hulk alongside came,

And the twain were casting dice;

'The game is done! I've won! I've won!'

Quoth she, and whistles thrice.



The Sun's rim dips; the stars rush out:

At one stride comes the dark;

With far-heard whisper, o'er the sea,

Off shot the spectre-bark.



We listened and looked sideways up!

Fear at my heart, as at a cup,

My life-blood seemed to sip!

The stars were dim, and thick the night,

The steersman's face by his lamp gleamed white;

From the sails the dew did drip--

Till clomb above the eastern bar

The horn'ed Moon, with one bright star

Within the nether tip.



One after one, by the star-dogged Moon,

Too quick for groan or sigh,

Each turned his face with a ghastly pang,

And cursed me with his eye.



Four times fifty living men,

(And I heard nor sigh nor groan)

With heavy thump, a lifeless lump,

They dropped down one by one.



The souls did from their bodies fly,--

They fled to bliss or woe!

And every soul, it passed me by,

Like the whizz of my cross-bow!



PART FOUR



'I FEAR thee, ancient Mariner!

I fear thy skinny hand!

And thou art long, and lank, and brown,

As is the ribbed sea-sand.



I fear thee and thy glittering eye,

And thy skinny hand, so brown.'--

Fear not, fear not, thou Wedding-Guest!

This body dropt not down.



Alone, alone, all, all alone,

Alone on a wide wide sea!

And never a saint took pity on

My soul in agony.



The many men, so beautiful!

And they all dead did lie:

And a thousand thousand slimy things

Lived on; and so did I.



I looked upon the rotting sea,

And drew my eyes away

I looked upon the rotting deck,

And there the dead men lay



I looked to Heaven, and tried to pray;

But or ever a prayer had gusht,

A wicked whisper came, and made

My heart as dry as dust.



I closed my lids, and kept them close,

And the balls like pulses beat;

For the sky and the sea, and the sea and the sky

Lay like a load on my weary eye,

And the dead were at my feet.



The cold sweat melted from their limbs,

Nor rot nor reek did they:

The look with which they looked on me

Had never passed away.



An orphan's curse would drag to hell

A spirit from on high;

But oh! more horrible than that

Is the curse in a dead man's eye!

Seven days, seven nights saw that curse,

And yet I could not die.



The moving Moon went up the sky,

And no where did abide:

Softly she was going up,

And a star or two beside--



Her beams bemocked the sultry main,

Like April hoar-frost spread;

But where the ship's huge shadow lay,

The charm'ed water burnt alway

A still and awful red.



Beyond the shadow of the ship,

I watched the water-snakes:

They moved in tracks of shining white

And when they reared, the elfish light

Fell off in hoary flakes.



Within the shadow of the ship

I watched their rich attire:

Blue, glossy green, and velvet black,

Then coiled and swam; and every track

Was a flash of golden fire.



O happy living things! no tongue

Their beauty might declare:

A spring of love gushed from my heart,

And I blessed them unaware:

Sure my kind saint took pity on me,

And I blessed them unaware.



The self-same moment I could pray;

And from my neck so free

The Albatross fell off, and sank

Like lead into the sea.



PART FIVE



OH sleep! it is a gentle thing,

Beloved from pole to pole!

To Mary Queen the praise be given!

She sent the gentle sleep from Heaven,

That slid into my soul.



The silly buckets on the deck,

That had so long remained,

I dreamt that they were filled with dew;

And when I awoke, it rained.



My lips were wet, my throat was cold,

My garments all were dank;

Sure I had drunken in my dreams,

And still my body drank.



I moved, and could not feel my limbs:

I was so light--almost

I thought that I had died in sleep,

And was a bless'ed ghost.



And soon I heard a roaring wind:

It did not come anear;

But with its sound it shook the sails,

That were so thin and sere.



The upper air burst into life!

And a hundred fire-flags sheen,

To and fro they were hurried about!

And to and fro, and in and out,

The wan stars danced between.



And the coming wind did roar more loud,

And the sails did sigh like sedge;

And the rain poured down from one black cloud;

The Moon was at its edge.



The thick black cloud was cleft, and still

The Moon was at its side:

Like waters shot from some high crag,

The lightning fell with never a jag,

A river steep and wide.



The loud wind never reached the ship,

Yet now the ship moved on!

Beneath the lightning and the Moon

The dead men gave a groan.



They groaned, they stirred, they all uprose,

Nor spake, nor moved their eyes;

It had been strange, even in a dream,

To have seen those dead men rise.



The helmsman steered, the ship moved on;

Yet never a breeze up-blew;

The mariners all 'gan work the ropes,

Where they were wont to do;

They raised their limbs like lifeless tools--

We were a ghastly crew.



The body of my brother's son

Stood by me, knee to knee:

The body and I pulled at one rope,

But he said nought to me.



'I fear thee, ancient Mariner!'

Be calm, thou Wedding-Guest!

'Twas not those souls that fled in pain,

Which to their corses came again,

But a troop of spirits blest:



For when it dawned--they dropped their arms,

And clustered round the mast;

Sweet sounds rose slowly through their mouths,

And from their bodies passed.



Around, around, flew each sweet sound,

Then darted to the Sun;

Slowly the sounds came back again,

Now mixed, now one by one.



Sometimes a-dropping from the sky

I heard the sky-lark sing;

Sometimes all little birds that are,

How they seemed to fill the sea and air

With their sweet jargoning!



And now 'twas like all instruments,

Now like a lonely flute;

And now it is an angel's song,

That makes the heavens be mute.



It ceased; yet still the sails made on

A pleasant noise till noon,

A noise like of a hidden brook

In the leafy month of June,

That to the sleeping woods all night

Singeth a quiet tune.



Till noon we quietly sailed on,

Yet never a breeze did breathe:

Slowly and smoothly went the Ship,

Moved onward from beneath.



Under the keel nine fathom deep,

From the land of mist and snow,

The spirit slid: and it was he

That made the ship to go.

The sails at noon left off their tune,

And the ship stood still also.



The Sun, right up above the mast,

Had fixed her to the ocean:

But in a minute she 'gan stir,

With a short uneasy motion--

Backwards and forwards half her length

With a short uneasy motion.



Then like a pawing horse let go,

She made a sudden bound:

It flung the blood into my head,

And I fell down in a swound.



How long in that same fit I lay,

I have not to declare;

But ere my living life returned,

I heard and in my soul discerned

Two voices in the air.



'Is it he?' quoth one, 'Is this the man?

By him who died on cross,

With his cruel bow he laid full low

The harmless Albatross.



The spirit who bideth by himself

In the land of mist and snow,

He loved the bird that loved the man

Who shot him with his bow.'



The other was a softer voice,

As soft as honey-dew:

Quoth he, 'The man hath penance done,

And penance more will do.'



PART SIX



First Voice



'BUT tell me, tell me! speak again,

They soft response renewing--

What makes that ship drive on so fast?

What is the ocean doing?'



Second Voice



'Still as a slave before his lord,

The ocean hath no blast;

His great bright eye most silently

Up to the Moon is cast--



If he may know which way to go;

For she guides him smooth or grim.

See, brother, see! how graciously

She looketh down on him.'



First Voice



'But why drives on that ship so fast,

Without or wave or wind?'



Second Voice

'The air is cut away before,

And closes from behind.



Fly, brother, fly! more high, more high!

Or we shall be belated:

For slow and slow that ship will go,

When the Mariner's trance is abated.'



I woke, and we were sailing on

As in a gentle weather:

'Twas night, calm night, the moon was high;

The dead men stood together.



All stood together on the deck,

For a charnel-dungeon fitter:

All fixed on me their stony eyes,

That in the Moon did glitter.



The pang, the curse, with which they died,

Had never passed away:

I could not draw my eyes from theirs,

Nor turn them up to pray.



And now this spell was snapt: once more

I viewed the ocean green,

And looked far forth, yet little saw

Of what had else been seen--



Like one, that on a lonesome road

Doth walk in fear and dread,

And having once turned round walks on,

And turns no more his head;

Because he knows, a frightful fiend

Doth close behind him tread.



But soon there breathed a wind on me,

Nor sound nor motion made:

Its path was not upon the sea,

In ripple or in shade.



It raised my hair, it fanned my cheek

Like a meadow-gale of spring--

It mingled strangely with my fears,

Yet it felt like a welcoming.



Swiftly, swiftly flew the ship,

Yet she sailed softly too:

Sweetly, sweetly blew the breeze--

On me alone it blew.



Oh! dream of joy! is this indeed

The light-house top I see?

Is this the hill? is this the kirk?

Is this mine own countree?



We drifted o'er the harbour-bar,

And I with sobs did pray--

O let me be awake, my God!

Or let me sleep alway.



The harbour-bay was clear as glass,

So smoothly it was strewn!

And on the bay, the moonlight lay,

And the shadow of the Moon.



The rock shone bright, the kirk no less,

That stands above the rock:

The moonlight steeped in silentness

The steady, weathercock.



And the bay was white with silent light,

Till rising from the same,

Full many shapes, that shadows were,

In crimson colours came.



A little distance from the prow

Those crimson shadows were:

I turned my eyes upon the deck--

Oh, Christ! what saw I there!



Each corse lay flat, lifeless and flat,

And, by the holy rood!

A man all light, a seraph-man,

On every corse there stood.



This seraph-band, each waved his hand:

It was a heavenly, sight!

They stood as signals to the land,

Each one a lovely light;



This seraph-band, each waved his hand,

No voice did they impart--

No voice; but oh! the silence sank

Like music on my heart.



But soon I heard the dash of oars,

I heard the Pilot's cheer;

My head was turned perforce away

And I saw a boat appear.



The Pilot and the Pilot's boy,

I heard them coming fast:

Dear Lord in Heaven! it was a joy

The dead men could not blast.



I saw a third-I heard his voice:

It is the Hermit good!

He singeth loud his godly hymns

That he makes in the wood.

He'll shrieve my soul he'll wash away

The Albatross's blood.



PART SEVEN



THIS Hermit good lives in that wood

Which slopes down to the sea.

How loudly his sweet voice he rears!

He loves to talk with marineres

That come from a far countree.



He kneels at morn, and noon, and eve--

He hath a cushion plump:

It is the moss that wholly hides

The rotted old oak-stump.



The skiff-boat neared: I heard them talk,

'Why, this is strange, I trow!

Where are those lights so many and fair,

That signal made but now?'



'Strange, by my faith!' the Hermit said--

'And they answered not our cheer!

The planks looked warped! and see those sails,

How thin they are and sere!

I never saw aught like to them,

Unless perchance it were



Brown skeletons of leaves that lag

My forest-brook along;

When the ivy-tod is heavy with snow,

And the owlet whoops to the wolf below,

That eats the she-wolf's young.'



'Dear Lord! it hath a fiendish look--

(The Pilot made reply)

I am a-feared'--'Push on, push on!'

Said the Hermit cheerily.



The boat came closer to the ship,

But I nor spake nor stirred;

The boat came close beneath the ship,

And straight a sound was heard.



Under the water it rumbled on,

Still louder and more dead:

It reached the ship, it split the bay;

The ship went down like lead.



Stunned by that loud and dreadful sound,

Which sky and ocean smote,

Like one that hath been seven days drowned

My body lay afloat;

But swift as dreams, myself I found

Within the Pilot's boat.



Upon the whirl, where sank the ship,

The boat spun round and round;

And all was still, save that the hill

Was telling of the sound.



I moved my lips--the Pilot shrieked

And fell down in a fit;

The holy Hermit raised his eyes,

And prayed where he did sit.



I took the oars: the Pilot's boy,

Who now doth crazy go,

Laughed loud and long, and all the while

His eyes went to and fro.

'Ha! ha!' quoth he, 'full plain I see,

The Devil knows how to row.'



And now, all in my own countree,

I stood on the firm land!

The Hermit stepped forth from the boat,

And scarcely he could stand.



'O shrieve me, shrieve me, holy man!'

The Hermit crossed his brow.

'Say quick,' quoth he, 'I bid thee say--

What manner of man art thou?



Forthwith this frame of mine was wrenched

With a woful agony,

Which forced me to begin my tale;

And then it left me free.



Since then, at an uncertain hour,

That agony returns:

And till my ghastly tale is told,

This heart within me burns.



I pass, like night, from land to land;

I have strange power of speech;

That moment that his face I see,

I know the man that must hear me:

To him my tale I teach.



What loud uproar bursts from that door!

The wedding-guests are there:

But in the garden-bower the bride

And bride-maids singing are:

And hark the little vesper bell,

Which biddeth me to prayer!



O Wedding-Guest! this soul hath been

Alone on a wide wide sea:

So lonely 'twas, that God himself

Scarce seem'ed there to be.



O sweeter than the marriage-feast,

'Tis sweeter far to me,

To walk together to the kirk

With a goodly company!--



To walk together to the kirk,

And all together pray,

While each to his great Father bends,

Old men, and babes, and loving friends

And youths and maidens gay!



Farewell, farewell! but this I tell

To thee, thou Wedding-Guest!

He prayeth well, who loveth well

Both man and bird and beast.



He prayeth best, who loveth best

All things both great and small;

For the dear God who loveth us,

He made and loveth all.



The Mariner, whose eye is bright,

Whose beard with age is hoar,

Is gone: and now the Wedding-Guest

Turned from the bridegroom's door.



He went like one that hath been stunned,

And is of sense forlorn:

A sadder and a wiser man,

He rose the morrow morn.

الجمعة، 12 مارس 2010

Oscar Wilde

Oscar Wilde

Collected Poems

Flower or Love

[1890]

Sweet, I blame you not, for mine the fault was,

 Had I not been made of common clay

I had climbed the higher heights unclimbed yet,

 Seen the fuller air, the larger day.



From the wildness of my wasted passion I had

 Struck a better, clearer song,

Lit some lighter light of freer freedom, battled

 With some Hydra-headed wrong.



Had my lips been smitten into music by the

 Kisses that but made them bleed,

You had walked with Bice and the angels on

 That verdant and enamelled mead.



I had trod the road which Dante treading saw

 The suns of seven circles shine,

Ay! perchance had seen the heavens opening, as

 They opened to the Florentine.



And the mighty nations would have crowned me,

 Who am crownless now and without name,

And some orient dawn had found me kneeling

 On the threshold of the House of Fame



I had sat within that marble circle where the

 Oldest bard is as the young,

And the pipe is ever dropping honey, and the

 Lyre’s strings are ever strung.



Keats had lifted up his hymeneal curls from out

 The poppy-seeded wine,

With ambrosial mouth had kissed my forehead,

 Clasped the hand of noble love in mine.



And at springtime, when the apple-blossoms

 Brush the burnished bosom of the dove,

Two young lovers lying in an orchard would

 Have read the story of our love.



Would have read the legend of my passion,

 Known the bitter secret of my heart,

Kissed as we have kissed, but never parted as

We two are fated now to part.



For the crimson flower of our life is eaten by

 The canker-worm of truth,

And no hand can gather up the fallen withered

 Petals of the rose of youth.



Yet I am not sorry that I loved you— ah! what

 Else had I a boy to do,—

For the hungry teeth of time devour, and the

 Silent-footed years pursue.



Rudderless, we drift athwart a tempest, and

 When once the storm of youth is past,

Without lyre, without lute or chorus, Death a

 Silent pilot comes at last.



And within the grave there is no pleasure, for

 The blind-worm battens on the root,

And Desire shudders into ashes, and the tree of

 Passion bears no fruit.



Ah! what else had I to do but love you, God’s

 Own mother was less dear to me,

And less dear the Cytheraean rising like an

 Argent lily from the sea.



I have made my choice, have lived my poems,

 And, though youth is gone in wasted days,

I have found the lover’s crown of myrtle

 Better than the poet’s crown of bays.

خمس أغنيات إلى حبيبتي..!


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إليك: يا حبيبتي الاميره



الأغنية الأولى



مازلت أنت.....أنت



تأتلقين يا وسام الليل في ابتهال صمت



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أنا هنـــــــا:



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سألت أمس طفلة عن اسم شارع



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بلا هدى أسير في شوارع تمتد



وينتهي الطريق إذا بآخـر يطل



تقاطعُ ،



تقاطع



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فأين أنت يا حبيبتي



لكي نسير



معا......،



فلا نعود،



لانصل.



الأغنية الثانية



تشاجرت امرأتان عند باب بيتنا



قولهما علي الجدران صفرة انفعال



لكن لفظا واحدا حيرني مدلوله



قالته إحداهن للأخرى



قالته فارتعشت كابتسامة الأسرى



تري حبيبتي تخونني



أنا الذي ارش الدموع ..نجم شوقنا



ولتغفري حبيبتي



فأنت تعرفين أن زمرة النساء حولنا



قد انهدلت في مزلق اللهيب المزمنة



وانت يا حبيبتي بشر



في قرننا العشرين تعشقين أمسياته الملونة



قد دار حبيبتي بخاطري هذا الكدر



لكني بلا بصر:



أبصرت في حقيبتي تذكارك العريق



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عيناك فيهما يصل ألف رب



وجبهة ماسية تفنى في بشرتها سماحة المحب



أحسست أني فوق فوق أن اشك



وأنت فوق كل شك



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لذا كتبت لك



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الأغنية الثالثة



ماذا لديك يا هوى



اكثر مما سقيتني



اقمت بها بلا ارتحال



حبيبتي: قد جاءني هذا الهوى



بكلمة من فمك لذا تركته يقيم



وظل ياحبيبتي يشب



حتى يفع



حتى غدا في عنفوان رب



ولم يعد في غرفتي مكان



ما عادت الجدران تتسع



حطمت يا حبيبتي الجدران



حملته ، يحملني ،



الى مدائن هناك خلف الزمن



اسكرته ، اسكرني



من خمرة أكوابها قليلة التوازن



لم افلت



من قبضة تطير بي الى مدى الحقيقة



بأنني أصبت،....اشتاق يا حبيبتي



الأحد، 7 مارس 2010

وجه

ومن أقاصي الجنوب أتى،


عاملاً للبناء

كان يصعد "سقالة" ويغني لهذا الفضاء

كنت أجلس خارج مقهى قريب

وبالأعين الشاردة

كنت أقرأ نصف الصحيفة

والنص أخفي به وسخ المائدة

لم أجد غير عينين لا تبصران

وخيط الدماء.



وانحنيت عليه أجس يده

قال آخر : لا فائدة

صار نصف الصحيفة كل الغطاء

و أنا ... في العراء


أمل دنقل

خطاب غير تاريخي على قبر صلاح الدين

خطاب غير تاريخي على قبر صلاح الدين




ها أنت تسترخي أخيراً

فوداعاً

يا صلاح الدين

يا أيها الطبل البدائي الذي تراقص الموتى

على إيقاعه المجنون

يا قارب الفلين

للعرب الغرقى الذين شتتتهم سفن القراصنة

وأدركتهم لعنة الفراعنة

وسنة .. بعد سنة

صارت لهم " حطين"

تميمة الطفل، وأكسير الغد العنين



(جبال التوباد حياك الحيا)

(وسقا الله ثرانا الأجنبي)



مرت خيول الترك

مرت خيول الشرك

مرت خيول الملك - النسر

مرت خيول التتر الباقين

ونحن - جيلاً بعد جيل - في ميادين المراهنة

نموت تحت الأحصنة

و أنت في المذياع، في جرائد التهوين

تستوقف الفارين

تخطب فيهم صائحاً : " حطين"

وترتدي العقال تارة

وترتدي ملابس الفدائئين

وتشرب الشاي مع الجنود

في المعسكرات الخشنة



وترفع الراية،

حتى تسترد المدن المرتهنة

وتطلق النار على جوادك المسكين

حتى سقطت - أيها الزعيم

واغتالتك أيدي الكهنة.



***



(وطني لو شغلت بالخلد عنه ..)

(نازعتني - لمجلس الأمن- نفسي)



***



نم يا صلاح الدين

نم ... تتدلى فوق قبرك الورود

كالمظليين

ونحن ساهرون في نافذة الحنين

نقشر التفاح بالسكين

ونسأل الله "القروض الحسن"

فاتحة :

آمين .


أمل دنقل

من أوراق أبو نواس

من أوراق " أبو نواس"




(الورقة الأولى)



"ملك أم كتابة ؟"

صاح بي صاحبي، وهو يلقي بدرهم في الهواء

ثم يلقفه

(خارجين من الدرس كنا .. وحبر الطفولة فوق الرداء

و العصافير تمرق عبر البيوت

وتهبط فوق التخيل البعيد )

..



"ملك أم كتابة؟"

صاح بي .. فانتبهت، ورفت ذبابه

حول عينين لامعتين

فقلت : "الكتابة"



...

... فتح اليد مبتسماً، كان وجه المليك السعيد

باسما في مهابة.



***



"ملك ألأم كتابة؟"

صحت فيه بدوري

فرفرف في مقلتيه الصبا و النجابة

وأجاب : " الملك"

(دون أن يتلعثم .. أو يرتبك)

وفتحت يدي

كان نقش الكتابة

بارزاً في صلابة .



.....

......

دارت الأرض دورتها

حملتنا الشواديف من هدأة النهر

ألقت بنا في جداول أرض الغرابة

نتفرق بين حقول الأسى .. وحقول الصبابة

قطرتين ، التقينا على سلم القصر

ذات مساء وحيد

كنت فيه : نديم الرشيد

بينما صاحبي .. يتولى الحجابة !!



(الورقة الثانية)



من يملك العملة

يمسك بالوجهين

والفقراءُ : بين .. بين .



(الورقة الثالثة)



نائماً كنت جانبه ، و سمعت الحرس

يوقظون أبي

خارجيّ ؟

أنا .. ؟!

مارق ؟

من ؟ أنا !!



صرخ الطفل في صدر أمي

(وأمي محلولة الشعر واقفة .. في ملابسها المنزلية)

أخرسوا

واختبأنا وراء الجدار

أخرسوا

وتسلل في الحلق خيط من الدم

(كان أبي يمسك الجرح

يمسك قامته .. ومهابته العائلية)

يا أبي

أخرسوا

وتواريت في ثوب أمي

و الطفل في صدرها ما نبسْ



ومضوا بأبي

تاركين لنا اليتمَ .. متشحاً بالخرس .



(الورقة الرابعة)



- أيها الشعر .. يا أيها الفرح المختلس ّّ

...

(كل ما كنت أكتب في هذه الصفحة الورقية صادرته العسس)

....



(الورقة الخامسة)



... وأمي خادمة فارسية

يتناقل سادتها قهوة الجنس وهي تدير الحطب

يتبادل سادتها النظرات لأردافها

عندما تنحني لتضئ اللهب

يتندر سادتها الطيبون بلهجتها الأعجمية !



***



نائماً كنت جانبها، ورأيت ملاك القدس

ينجني ، ويربت وجنتها

وتراخىا الذراعان عني قليلاً

قليلاً..

وسارت بقلبي قشعريرة الصمت :

-أمي

وعاد لي الصوت

-أمي

وجاوبني الموت

-أميّ

وعانقتها .. وبكيت

وغام بي الدمع حتى انحبس !



(الورقة السادسة)



لا تسألني إن كان القرآن

مخلوقاً .. أو أزلي.

بل سلني إن كان السلطان

لصاً .. أو نصف نبي !!



(الورقة السابعة)



كنت في كربلاء

قال لي الشيخ أن الحسين

مات من أجل جرعة ماء ..

وتساءلت

كيف السيوف استباحت بني الأكرمين

فأجاب الذي بصرته السماء :

انه الذهب المتلألئ : في كل عين .

.............

إن تكن كلمات الحسين

وسيوف الحسين

وجلال الحسين

سقطت دون أن تنقذ الحق من ذهب الأمراء

أفتقدر أن تنقذ الحق ثرثرة لشعراء ؟

و الفرات لسانٌ من الدم لا يجد الشفتين.



*****



مات /ن أجل جرعة ماء

فاسقني يا غلام .. صباح مساء

اسقني يا غلام

علني بالمدام

أتناسى الدماء .@


أمل دنقل
رحمه الله تعالى

الأربعاء، 3 مارس 2010

الثرثره الفضائيه

برامج الثرثره تؤلمني ألما شديدا , والتلوث الأخلاقي الذي يعم حياتنا يبدو واضحا وضوح الشمس وبخاصة بعد كل مكالمه هاتفيه  وللمؤسف غالبها مداخلات نسائية غاب عن صويحباتها الحياء و الأمر من ذلك الثرثره الدينيه والفتاوى الهوائيه الطائره فا الكلام في أمور الفقه والدين على المشاع وكنت أعتقد أنه من الورع أن يكون تناول الأمور الفقهيه بشيء من التأصيل ولكن  الأن الكل يثرثر والإعتداد بالرأي والكبر والمجادله هي السمات الأساسيه لكل هذه المنغصات الفضائيه.
لا أعلم متى نتخلص من هذه الموضه الإعلاميه ولكن أعتقد أن تأثيرها السلبي سيستمر ويدوم طويلا