The virgin language is only for your eyes

The virgin language is only for your eyes
By :
Mokhtar Issa..( October 2003)
Translated by :
Hassan Hegazy Hassan
( Egypt )


***

The virgin language remains for your eyes
The first residence and the first glory ,
They are still spinning inside the minefield
and invent the formal pain,
Is it time for colors to declare its cheer and gaiety ?
And the freed sparrow to calm down?
Does anyone else but you have the ability for poetry to rest
And let its gardens hold the weddings for oppressed orphans?
Your eye is burning questions
The passerby only has to listen to the playing
of the soul
And the wounded have no choice but to walk on the lightning
So, do not start traveling now

Wait ,
The party will open its season
And the invitees spread their decorations
Wait,
We will pack this night with lamps of music ,
draw with iris cities for lovers and
distribute the dream children to the poor;
So be away from the grief and sadness ,
and embrace my soul ;

I ascend like the supplication of the grieved ,
And open my window for an air to inhale me
I know that poetry is scarce ;
These two eyes are mail and hotness
Kohl is the guard ..

Who taught him (the code) to open for me
And the white sea ..
How dare could he hide between the two eyelashes?
Is he looking for a lost treasure?
Has he come to search for a song that may kill his loneliness?
An army from the genies of Solomon , the giant,
Or these eyelashes and the clamor of Bilkis:
Or the swimming river in your eyes ;
Poetry is little and scarce
And you have ..
For your eyes have the prayer times for lovers
For you history is opened ;
To witness my battle and write down :
She knew him
She entered him from the ribs and left guards
He was leading the night in the dark arenas;
His ember inflamed
For you .. I stopped the time,
And searched the conserves of my soul;
To look for the papers of age ,
I passed onto the glowing body,

My confused questions melted
and entered me again from my body
Here are the berries and the dates
And there are the shrubs of fire
Ignite and blaze ;
In order to turn off a memory,
And start to register ;
This is the time of ember,
This is the repentance timing for stopping
To kill the self ,

This is my body ... a map of love;
So , roam wherever you want ..
From the sea to the river ,
From Camphor to Mint,
This is my fruit
This berry and this dates,
And this is my body
Whatever you want..
Anything you need..
The virgin language is only :
For your eyes !

(October 2003)
***

لعينيك اللغة الأولى
شعر :
مختار عيسى
ترجمة للإنجليزية :
حسن حجازي حسن


***


وتظلُّ لعينيك اللغة ُ الأولى
السكنُ الأولُ،
والألقُ الأول
ويظلون يدورون بحقل الألغام ِ
ويخترعونَ الوجعَ الرسميَّ ،
فهل حان الحين لتعلن بهجتها الألوانُ
ويبترد العصفورُ المحرورُ ؟
وهل غيرُك ِ يملك ُ أن يرتاح الشعرُ،
تقيمَ حدائقهُ الأعراسَ لأيتام ٍ مقهورين ؟َ
عينك أسئلة ٌ حارقة ٌ
ليس على السُّلاك سوى الإنصات ِ لعزف الروح ِ
وليس على المجروحين َ سوى السير ِ على البرق ِ
فلا تبتدئي السفرَ الآن
انتظري
فالحفل ُ سيفتحُ موسمَهُ
والمدعوون افترشوا زينتهم
انتظري
سنعبئُ هذا الليلَ قناديل الموسيقا،
وسنرسمُ بالسوسن مُدُنا للعشاق ِ،
نوزعُ أطفال الأحلام على الفقراء؛
فخلي بينك والأحزان،
و�
ُمِّي روحي ؛
أصعدُ مثلَ دعاء المكروبِ،
وأفتحُ نافذتي لهواء ٍ يستنشقني
أعرفُ أن الشعرَ قليلٌ؛
هاتان العينان بريدٌ
وحرور
الكحلُ الحارسُ ..
من علـَّمه (الشفرة) كي يفتح لي
والبحرُ الأبي�
ُ ..
كيف تجاسرَ أن يتخبأ بين الرمشين ِ ؟
فهل يبحث ُ عن كنز مفقود ٍ ،
هل جاء يفتشُ عن أغنيةٍ تقتلُ وحدتهُ ؟
جيشٌ من جنِّ سُليمانَ المَرَدةِ،
أم هذي الأرماشُ ؟
ولُجَّة ُ بلقيسَ
أم النهرُ السابحُ في عينيك ِ ؛
الشعر قليلٌ
ولديك ِ ..
لعينيك ِ مواقيتُ صلاة العشاقْ
من أجلك ينفتح التاريخُ ؛
ليشهدَ معركتي ،
ويسجلَ :
كانت تعرفُهُ
دخلته ُ من الأ�
لاع ِ،
وتركتْ حراسا
كان يؤمُّ الليل َ بساحات الظلمة ِ؛
فاشتعلتْ جذوتُه ُ
من أجلك .. أوقفتُ الوقت َ ،
وفتَّشت ُ حوافظ َ روحي ؛
كي أبحث عن ورق العمر ِ ،
ومرّرْتُ على الجسد الوهَجَ،
انصهرتْ أسئلتي الحيرى
دخلتني ثانية ً من بدني
هاك التوت
وهاك البلح
وهاكِ شُجيْراتِ النار ِ
اشتعلي ؛
كي نطفئ ذاكرة ً،
نبدأَ في التدوين ِ ؛
فهذا عصر الجذوة ِ ،
هذا ميقات التوبة عن قتل النفس ِ ،
وهذا بدني .. خارطة للحبِّ ؛
فجوسي ماشئتِ ..
من البحر إلى النهر ِ ،
من الكافور إلى النعناع ِ،
وهذي فاكهتي
هذا التوت ُ،
وهذا التمرُ،
وهذا بدني
أنَّى شئتِ ..
لعينيك اللغة ُ الأولى .


أكتوبر 2003))

***


The virgin language is only for your eyes
By :
Mokhtar Issa..( October 2003)
Translated by :
Hassan Hegazy Hassan
( Egypt )


***

The virgin language remains for your eyes
The first residence and the first glory ,
They are still spinning inside the minefield
and invent the formal pain,
Is it time for colors to declare its cheer and gaiety ?
And the freed sparrow to calm down?
Does anyone else but you have the ability for poetry to rest
And let its gardens hold the weddings for oppressed orphans?
Your eye is burning questions
The passerby only has to listen to the playing
of the soul
And the wounded have no choice but to walk on the lightning
So, do not start traveling now

Wait ,
The party will open its season
And the invitees spread their decorations
Wait,
We will pack this night with lamps of music ,
draw with iris cities for lovers and
distribute the dream children to the poor;
So be away from the grief and sadness ,
and embrace my soul ;

I ascend like the supplication of the grieved ,
And open my window for an air to inhale me
I know that poetry is scarce ;
These two eyes are mail and hotness
Kohl is the guard ..

Who taught him (the code) to open for me
And the white sea ..
How dare could he hide between the two eyelashes?
Is he looking for a lost treasure?
Has he come to search for a song that may kill his loneliness?
An army from the genies of Solomon , the giant,
Or these eyelashes and the clamor of Bilkis:
Or the swimming river in your eyes ;
Poetry is little and scarce
And you have ..
For your eyes have the prayer times for lovers
For you history is opened ;
To witness my battle and write down :
She knew him
She entered him from the ribs and left guards
He was leading the night in the dark arenas;
His ember inflamed
For you .. I stopped the time,
And searched the conserves of my soul;
To look for the papers of age ,
I passed onto the glowing body,

My confused questions melted
and entered me again from my body
Here are the berries and the dates
And there are the shrubs of fire
Ignite and blaze ;
In order to turn off a memory,
And start to register ;
This is the time of ember,
This is the repentance timing for stopping
To kill the self ,

This is my body ... a map of love;
So , roam wherever you want ..
From the sea to the river ,
From Camphor to Mint,
This is my fruit
This berry and this dates,
And this is my body
Whatever you want..
Anything you need..
The virgin language is only :
For your eyes !

(October 2003)



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