ليل عنيد . أبو عاطف حياتله الشجراوي . Unruly night

قصيدة مترجمة من العربية إلى الإنكليزية للشاعر الفلسطيني إياد عاطف حياتله

20/8/2005
غلاسكو



Unruly night By Iyad Hayatleh
Translated by Bouzekri Ettaouchi with the poet

"It is early morning
the dew is still lingering in the fields
and the schools waiting for the little ones
and the birds shivering in the dawn chill
The city is still deep in slumber"*
and I have yet to sleep
Wakeful, wavering between patience and impatience,
indulging remorse,
fighting unruly night
bent on driving my dreams to dust.
Here, at my window, I sit
at the mercy of the destinies
the gales
the sleepy stars
and the sighs.
Facing my beloved unforgettable,
tormenting east.

"It is early morning
the dew is still lingering in the fields
and the schools waiting for the little ones
and the birds shivering in the dawn chill
The city is still deep in slumber"*
and I have yet to sleep
A bird has fluttered off my chest,
and fled,
soaring above the clouds
heading for the south east
the south east
I refrained from beseeching him
to come back to the nest
for I dearly wished him to return

Bird!
do you know how to navigate
the return journey home?
Do you know that I'm over there?
and I'm nothing but a mirage here
tempting my fate
searching for my lost self
in the land of rain
land of fog
asking the wind
have you come across me?
am I dead?
am I still alive?

"It is early morning
the dew is still lingering in the fields
and the schools waiting for the little ones
and the birds shivering in the dawn chill
The city is still deep in slumber"*
and I have yet to sleep
a bird has fluttered off my chest,
and fled,
soaring above the clouds
heading for the south east
the south east
abandoning this ruin
for a corner
where I used to play as a child
for my satchel and school jotter
my first sweetheart
mother's prayers
and father's supplications
for the onset of my anguish
and the soul I deserted
and left behind

Bird!
have you found them?
have you recognized them?
kindly remember me to them
and salute those holding out there
clinging to my memory
pining for me to return
they are the oil of my lantern
kindly remember me to them all
to my sorrowful soul
and to my lamented home. * From "Early morning" by Ghassan Zaqtan

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