ذكــــــــــــاء قــلــــــــــــــــم
السبت، 27 أغسطس 2011
الاثنين، 8 مارس 2010
لافتات:ا
الناسخ والمنسوخ
- لَو أنّني كِتابْ
لَفُزتُ بالخُلْدِ على
تَعاقُب الأحقابْ.
إن أعدَموني غَرَقاً
أو قَطّعوني مِزَقاً
أو انتهيتُ مُحرَقاً
تَكفي نَجاةُ نُسخَةٍ مِنّي
مِنَ العِقابْ
لِكَيْ تَبُثَّ في دَمي
غَضارةَ الشَّبابْ
وَمِن رُفاتِ بَذرَتي
تَنسَخُ ألفَ غابْ!
- لكِنْ إلى أَيِّ مَدىً
يُمكِنُ أن تُعَمَّرْ
لَو شاءَتِ الأقدارُ أن
تَغدو.. كِتاباً أخضَرْ؟!
فَإن مَضَى القَصّابْ
وانَقَطَعَ اللَّحْمُ الّذي
يَستَنبِحُ الكِلابْ
وَإن مَحا صِدقُ الرَّدى
رَداءَةَ الكذّابْ
فأيُّ عاقلٍ تُرى
يَحفظُ مِنكَ نُسخَةً
وَهْيَ أشَدُّ وَطأةً
مِن لَعنَةِ الإرهابْ؟!
======
شعر: أحمد مطر
الأربعاء، 3 مارس 2010
قفـص
قفـص
تؤلمني هده العصافيرالمزعجة
كلما خبطت أجنحتها في الفضاء
وراحت تغني
وكأنها تسخر من سطوتي
أو تظنني وحدي في الحصار
====
فوزية ابو خالد
تؤلمني هده العصافيرالمزعجة
كلما خبطت أجنحتها في الفضاء
وراحت تغني
وكأنها تسخر من سطوتي
أو تظنني وحدي في الحصار
====
فوزية ابو خالد
الاثنين، 1 مارس 2010
The End
The End
It is time for me to go, mother; I am going.
When in the paling darkness of the lonely dawn
you stretch your arms for your baby in the bed,
I shall say, "Baby is not there!"
- mother, I am going.
I shall become a delicate draught of air
and caress you; and I shall be ripples
in the water when you bathe;
and kiss you and kiss you again.
In the gusty night when the rain patters on the leaves
you will hear my whisper in your bed,
and my laughter will flash with the lightning
through the open window into your room.
If you lie awake, thinking of your baby till late into the night,
I shall sing to you form the stars, "Sleep, mother, sleep."
On the straying moonbeams I shall steal over your bed,
and lie upon your bosom while you sleep.
I shall become a dream, and through the little opening
of your eyelids I shall slip into the depths of your sleep;
and when you wake up and look round startled,
like a twinkling firefly I shall flit out into the darkness.
When, on the great festival of PUJA,
the neighbors' children come and play about the house,
I shall melt into the music of the flute
and throb in your heart all day.
Dear suntie will come with your PUJA presents and will ask,
"Where is our baby, sister? Mother you tell her softly,
"He is in the pupils of my eyes,
he is my body and my soul."
=====
by: Rabindranath Tagore
It is time for me to go, mother; I am going.
When in the paling darkness of the lonely dawn
you stretch your arms for your baby in the bed,
I shall say, "Baby is not there!"
- mother, I am going.
I shall become a delicate draught of air
and caress you; and I shall be ripples
in the water when you bathe;
and kiss you and kiss you again.
In the gusty night when the rain patters on the leaves
you will hear my whisper in your bed,
and my laughter will flash with the lightning
through the open window into your room.
If you lie awake, thinking of your baby till late into the night,
I shall sing to you form the stars, "Sleep, mother, sleep."
On the straying moonbeams I shall steal over your bed,
and lie upon your bosom while you sleep.
I shall become a dream, and through the little opening
of your eyelids I shall slip into the depths of your sleep;
and when you wake up and look round startled,
like a twinkling firefly I shall flit out into the darkness.
When, on the great festival of PUJA,
the neighbors' children come and play about the house,
I shall melt into the music of the flute
and throb in your heart all day.
Dear suntie will come with your PUJA presents and will ask,
"Where is our baby, sister? Mother you tell her softly,
"He is in the pupils of my eyes,
he is my body and my soul."
=====
by: Rabindranath Tagore
الأربعاء، 10 فبراير 2010
افتتاحية..
قررت افتتاح هاذه المدونة ..
لأعرض فيها بعض من تلك القراءات..
التي اثارت مخيلتي واعجابي..
واستحوذت لها ..
على اثر عميق بداخلي..
مع فائق تقديري..
لكل قلم مبدع..
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