فتى غيبه النهر
بقلم: صابر المعارج
ترجمها إلى الإنجليزية عبد اللطيف غسري
دمه يغسل عار الطلقة التي استقرت في الجزء
الخلفي من رأسه، وقاتله المأجور يطارده صدى هتافاته، ويقض مضجعه إيمانه بقضيته.
..................
شهور مضت وهو محمول على كف الغيم، تهدهده
أسراب نجوم...
من كوة ما، عبر أستار غيبوبته؛ يسترق السمع لهتافاتهم ويجتاحه اشتياق عارم لرفقتهم.
الطبيب:
-صحتك جيدة يايوسف.
……
فما كان منه إلّا أن دفع جسده المتهالك
خارج المشفى، هرول، خذلته ساقاه، تحامل عليهما، مضى يدوس على خناجر وجعه.
أُخليت نقاط التفتيش، اختفى باعة الأعلام
الذين كانت تكتظ بهم الأرصفة، الشوارع آضت سالكة للمركبات، وثمة عيون ترمقه مستغربة
العلم الملفوف حول عنقه!
نزل عبر حديقة الأمة يمّمَ صوب نصب الحرية...
تقاطعت وتداخلت أصوات الباعة في مسامعه،
وفي ذاكرته المحشوة بالدخانيات ازدحم نشيد وطن، وأزيز رصاصة!
تعثرت قدمه بجسد مشرد، يتوسد قنينة خمر
فارغة، ويستلقي في عرض الممر...
بصوت متثاقل أجش صاح الأخير:
-"أثول إذا مو گدها لتشرب"!
............
في كبد السماء سرب طيور مهاجر، يرسم لوحة
وداع، وتحت نصب الحرية؛ عصفور ميت، وطفل يقضم خبزا يابسا، على وجهه تدور معركة حامية
بين قطيع ذباب، وعلى مقربة منه رجل خمسيني، يفترش الأرض، على كتفيه ترك الحر خطاه خطوط
بيض من الملح، عيناه تتفرسان وجوه المارة؛ بحثا عن ضحية مغفلة!
وضع بين ساقيه العاريتين إلى النصف: بضعة
حصيات، يرفعهن تباعا معلنا:
-للمحبة، للرزق، ضد الرصاص!
ضغط يوسف بسبابته على مكان الطلقة، تلذذ
بالوجع! جلدته سياط خيبته.
ركض لايلوي على شئ، لاح له دجلة تحت شمس المغيب نهر دم وخوف!
صرخ بأعلى صوته، والشطآن تررد صداه:
-صفاء...! عمر...!... حتى غيبه النهر.
A Boy Who
Vanished into the River
A short story
by Saber Al Maarej
Translated
from Arabic by ABDELLATIF RHESRI
His blood
washed away the stigma caused by the shot he received in the back part of his
head. The hitman who had attempted to kill him was still chasing the echo of
his acclamation, and his faith in his cause was driving off sleep from his eyes
Whole months
had elapsed, and he was still carried away on clouds, lulled by the clusters of
stars.
From a
certain hole in the covering folds of his state of coma, he overheard their
acclamation and overwhelmingly longed for their company.
You're quite
well, Youssef" The docteur said.
All he did
was push his ailing body outside the hospital. He scurried ahead. His legs
failed. However, he walked on them overexerting himself, and treading over his excruciating pain.
The
checkpoints were emptied. The banner vendors who, had been crowding the
sidewalks, vanished. Thus, the streets became passable for vehicles. There were
some eyes glancing at him wondering at the banner that was tied around his neck
He passed
through the Nation Park heading for the Freedom Statue.
The vendors'
voices intermixed in his ears, and in his memory, overstuffed with smoky
things, the national hymn intermingled with the a bullet sizzle.
He stumbled
over the body of a homeless person who was putting his head on an empty wine
bottle and lying in the middle of the lane.
The latter
cried out in a heavy hoarse voice;
Since you're
not up to it why do you drink!
In the centre
of the sky there was a swarm of migrant birds, depicting the image of farewell.
Under the Freedom Statue, there was a dead sparrow, and a child biting a dry
crust of bread. On his face a fierce war was going on between a swarm of flies.
Close to him, there was a fifty-year-old man sitting on the ground. On his
shoulders the heat had left white lines of salt. His eyes were staring at the
passersby looking for a stupid victim among them. Between his half-naked legs, he placed a few
pebbles which he raised in a row declaring;
For love, for
livelihood, anti-bullets!
Youssef
pressed with his forefinger on the place of the shot. He enjoyed feeling the
pain! For he was only whipped by his own disappointment.
He ran
aimlessly. Tigris appeared to him from afar as a river of bloodshed and fear.
He screamed
in his utmost voice, the beaches echoing him;
Safaa. Omar.
Until he vanished into the river.
إرسال تعليق