إنطفاء../ قصة قصيرة
بقلمي: ليلى المراني
ترجمها إلى الإنجليزية عبد اللطيف غسري
دلف إلى مقهىً صغير قرب ساحل يكتظّ برواد
البحر، تديره امرأة مسنّة
تتوكّأ على عكّازها ..
إحباط كبير يحس به، لا يزال القلم عصيّاً
والورقة عذراء، وشيطان شعره فرّ هارباً بين جموع المصطافين.. أفكاره تحوم تائهةً لا
تستقرٌ وسط زخمٍ من كلماتٍ وصور تتقاتل في رأسه، تريد أن تنطلق.
طلب فنجان قهوته السوداء المفضّلة، وانتحى
في ركن معتم.. تاهت نظراته تطوف المكان، مذهولةً سقطت على صورة فتاةٍ بعمر الربيع،
معلّقةً على أحد جدران المقهى.. انبعث سرب فراشات ملوّنة من عينيها إلى عينيه، اقترب
منها، وثب قلبه بين أضلعه.. أحسّ أنغامًا تعزفها شفتاها على شواطىء مرجان؛ تصالحت كلماته
الصاخبة، هدأت وانسابت نبعاً يفيض.. عاد النبض إلى قلمه وعانق الورقة البيضاء.. كتب..
خمرةٌ في مقلتيها
خمرةٌ في شفتيها
و...
ارتطمت كلماته بصوت عميق متهدّج، آتٍ من
وراء الضباب..
- قهوتك سيّدي..
مشفقاً على نفسه، رفع رأسه بغضب إليها،
سرعان ما تلاشى عند عينيها المنطفئتين، تستجديان كلمةً رقيقة..
- هل أعجبتك ؟
مشيرةً إلى الصورة؛ تعثّرت نظراته على وجهها
الذي حاولت جاهدةً أن تعيد له الحياة، لكن غدر السنين أوغل فيه عبثاً وقسوة..
قلمه لا يزال بيده ينبض..
- هذه أنا، ملكة جمال مدينتي كنت..
لا يزال غارقاً في شطآنها، تلك الجميلة..
- أنا يا أستاذ.. أنا في تلك الصورة..
انتفض من حلمه.. تشظّت كلماته، وتوقّف نبض
قلمه..
Extinguishment
Short story by Laila Murani
Translated
from Arabic by ABDELLATIF RHESRI
He entered a
small cafe shop near a beach crowded with sea frequenters. The cafe was
directed by an old woman who walked on a stick. He felt tremendously
frustrated. The pen was still disobedient and the paper sheet was virgin. His
poetic Muse had fled through the throngs of sunbathers. His thoughts were
wandering astray, never settling amidst a momentum of words and images fighting
in his head for release.
He ordered
his usual favourite cup of black coffee, and sat in a dark corner. The looks of
his eyes started exploring the place. They encountered, in amazement, with the
picture of a teen girl, hung on the cafe wall. A swarm of multicolored
butterflies rushed out from her eyes to his
He came closer to her, and his heart leapt in
his chest. He felt melodies played by her lips on a coral beach. His vociferous
words subsided and flowed gently like an overflowing source of water. His pen
regained its pulsation and embraced the white paper sheet. He wrote:
Wine from her
lips
Wine from her
lips
And...
His words
collided with a deep quavering voice coming from.behind the fog.
Your coffee,
Sir
Feeling pity
for himself, he raised his head towards her angrily. His anger soon died away
under her extinguished eyes.which were begging for a tender word.
Do you like
it?
She asked
pointing to the picture. His looks stumbled at her face that she tried hard to
revive, but the treacherous years had long worn it down with frivolities and
cruelty.
His pen was
still in his hand pulsating.
This is me. I
was once the beauty queen of my city.
He was still
drowning in her ocean, that beautiful one.
It's me, Sir. It's me in that picture.
He flounced
in his dream. His words were broken into chips and his pen stopped
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