To two mysterious eyes
by zoss in poésieإلي عينين غريبتين
محمد الفيتوري
سيدتي ..
لو لامست عينيك هذي الكلمات العاشقات
صدفه .. لو عبرت خلال الشفتين
فاعتذري عني لعينيك
لأنني اتكأت في ظلها ذات مساء
سرقت غفوة ..
داعبت في سكونها النجوم و القمر
نسجت زورقا خرافيا ، من ورق الزهر
وسدت روحا متعبا
سقيت شفة لاهثه
أطفأت شوق عين
سيدتي ..
حين التقينا صدفة لقاء الغرباء
كانت كآبتي مثلي ، تمشي في الطريق
عارية بلا قناع
مشقوقة القدم ..
كانت كآبتي أنت
وكان الحزن ، و الضياع
كان الصمت ، و الندم
يعانقان شاعرا أنهكه الصراع
والشعر يا سيدتي في وطني غريب
يقتله الفراغ ، و العدم
و انتفضت روحي ، حين أبصرتك يا سيدتي
شعرت فجأة ، كأن خنجرا يغوص في دمي
يغسل قلبي ، و فمي
يطرحني مخضب الجبين ، ضارع اليدين
تحت ظلال مقلتيك الحلوتين
سيدتي
لو التقينا فجأه ..
لو أبصرت عيناي تلكم العينين
الأفقين الأخضرين الغارقين في الضباب و المطر
لو جمعتنا صدفة أخري علي الطريق
و كل صدفة قدر
فسوف ألثم الطريق مرتين
To two unknown eyes*
Muhammad Al-Fayturi
Mistress…
Should these enamored words chance to meet your eyes
Or pass between your lips
The forgive me; it was your eyes
In whose shade one evening I leaned resting
And snatched brief slumber
In their repose I caressed the stars and moon
I wove a boat of fancy out of petals
And laid down my tired soul
Gave to drink my thirsty lip
Quenched my eye’s desire.
Mistress…
When we met by chance as strangers meet
My sorrow too was walking on the road
Bare, unveiled
With heavy tread
You were my sorrow.
Sadness and loss
Silence and regret
Were embracing a poet consumed by struggle.
For poetry, mistress, is a stranger in my land
Killed by emptiness and void
My spirit trembled saw you
I felt suddenly as if a dagger delved into my blood
Cleanse my heart, my mouth
Prostrated me with soiled brow and supplicating hands
In the shade of your sweet eyes.
Mistress…
If suddenly we meet
If my eyes see those your eyes
High-set, green, drowned in mist and rain
If on the road by another chance we meet
And what is chance but fate?
Then would I kiss the road, kiss it twice
*I lost my notes on the source of the translation, but I can trace it back for anyone who’s interested — I would’ve certainly translated some phrases different myself (maybe one day).
Comment by LouLou — 27/8/2005 @ 4:35
Don’t know what to say about this poem. It’s a bit difficult to digest. The type of poetry you have to keep reading & re-reading or you just won’t get a handle on it.
The translation is actually easier to cope with - the imagery seems less intricate, the language less rich. But I agree that it’s not a very accurate translation.
Reading AlFaituri has always been a bit like reading Eliot for me.
Comment by zoss — 27/8/2005 @ 6:39
I can’t empathize at all LouLou; from the moment I read this poem, more than two years back, it made its way into my heart. I don’t even care whether I understand it or not — I feel it. I committed it to memory only after the second time of reading it, and as frequently as once a month, the words just surface to my consciousness, do their little dance in my head and on my tongue, before sinking deeper in my heart.
I liked most of Al-Fayturi’s work that I’ve had the chance to read — not that I’ve read much — but I am yet to find something that I like better than this one. Do you have any favorites?
(I am sorry, the connection you make with Eliot is totally lost on me; I can’t say that I’ve read much for him — certainly not for lack of interest though)
Comment by LouLou — 27/8/2005 @ 22:02
Zoss,
Wouldn´t call it a favorite because I haven´t read all of his work yet but the first AlFaituri poem I ever read was called Qaseedat AlRiya7. It´s the one I understand best because I spent time studying it. Read it on the same day as AlSayab´s Unshoodat ElMatar. Was haunted by the two of them for a while.
He´s nothing like Eliot. Night and day. The link in my own mind is that I don´t understand Eliot from the first reading either. It´s not enough for me to feel. The perfectionist in me doesn´t like the feeling that I´m missing something:)