ساعة حائط
بقلم،: محمود فهمي محمود
ترجمها إلى الإنجليزية عبد اللطيف غسري
الهدوء يسود غرفته. ودقات ساعة الحائط تتزامن مع دقات قلبه.... كل شيء يدعو إلى السكون.... بجانبه ترقد زوجته في فراشها....تصارع ساعات الليل...كى يدركها الصباح..فتنهض من نومها..لتقوم بأداء عملها المعتاد..وتصنع الضجيج..فى بيت يسدل السكون عليه ستائره.... ينهض هو من فراشه. يخرج بين الغفلةواليقظة من غرفته..... يلقي برأسه تحت صنبور المياه.... يريد أن يصحو من غفلته.... يستعيد شيئاً من نشاطه المعتاد..... يتجه إلى المطبخ... يعد كوبا من الشاي... يشعل سيجارته يراقب تطاير الدخان
يشعر بدوار في رأسه.....تتزاحم داخله الأفكار.... يدير مفتاح المذياع على نشرة الأخبار...هذا إعصار وذاك بركان...وهنا قتل.. وهنا في مكان ما انفجار... وأن هناك مؤشر بارتفاع الأسعار........... صمته يعلو صمت المكان.... تتزايد دقات قلبه عن دقات ساعة الحائط....وهو مازال يفكرفى زوجته وطفله الرضيع ...ومرتبه الضئيل...ومتطلبات الحياة التي لا تنتهي... يسترجع ذكرياته رويداً رويداً.... أيام دراسته الثانوية والجامعية... كم كان متفوقا وكم كان حالما... يتأمل المكان حوله... يغمض عينيه.... يشاهد أيام صباه... يمرح يلعب... يحتضن الأحلام في كفيه...... يفيق من غفلته على صرخات ابنه الوليد........
بعدو مسرعا إليه. يداعبه...يضمه إلى صدره...يستأنس...بدقات قلبه... يطبع قبلة على شفتيه..... وكأنه يلقي بكل ٱحلامه (هو)فى..(فيه)....وهو يتمتم بكلمات..............
(ربما غداً تنتصر الحياة)
(تمت) ...
بقلمي
محمود فهمي محمود
A Clock
A short story by Mahmoud Fahmi
Translated from Arabic by ABDELLATIF RHESRI
Calmness prevailed in his room. The clock's beats went in parallel with his own heartbeats. Everything called for quietude. Beside him, his wife was lying in her bed, struggling with the night hours and waiting for the morning rise. She would then get up and do her usual housework. She would cause noise in a house covered with the curtain of quietude. He would leave his bed, too, and get of his room half-asleep and half-awake. He would put his head under the water tap, wishing for complete wakefulness.
He regained some of his usual activeness, and went into the kitchen to fix a glass of tea. He lit a cigarette and kept watching the smoke dispersing above.
He felt a terrible headache. Plenty of thoughts were cramming his head. He tuned the radio to the news channel. There was a flood, and there was a volcano. There were killings and there was an explosion somewhere. A price rise indicator. His silence overcame the place quietude. His heartbeats became faster than the clock beats. He was still thinking about his wife and new-born baby, his meagre salary and the life requirements that never ended. He recalled his memories bit by bit. His secondary and university education. He was so excellent and so dreamful. He contemplated the place around, then closed his eyes. He saw his childhood days, cheerfully playing around and holding his own dreams in his hands. He woke up from his daydreaming at his new-born baby's screaming.
He ran to him, pampered him and held him in his bosom. He enjoyed his heartbeats on his chest. He kissed his lips as if to pour his own dreams in his mouth, murmuring these words; "Maybe life will triumph tomorrow".
The end
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