"I want..."
(Letter #1 of "A Hundred Love Letters")
By Nizar Qabbani
Translated by A.Z. Foreman
Click to hear me recite the original Arabic
I want to write you words
That are unlike any wording,
To invent a language for you alone
To tailor it to the size of your body,
To the breadth of my love.
I want to journey away from the leafed-through dictionary,
To take leave of my mouth.
For I am tired of going the rounds of my mouth
And want another one
That can change when it chooses
Into a cherry tree
Or a matchbox.
I want a new mouth from which words can emerge
Like white nymphs surging out of the ocean foam
Like white chicks bursting out of a magician's hat.
Take all the books I read in childhood
Take all my grammar-school notebooks
Take the chalk and the pens and the blackboards
And teach me a new word I can hear
And hang like an earring on my lover's ear.
I want other fingers
To write another way.
For I hate fingers that are not too long or too short
As I hate trees that neither die nor grow.
I want new fingers
Raised high as ship-masts
Long as a giraffe's neck
So I can tailor a poetry-garment for my love
That she never wore before me.
I want to fashion you an alphabet
Different from all the alphabets,
Comprising rhythms of the rain,
The dust of the moon
The sadness of grey clouds
And the aching of the willow-leaves
Breaking beneath September's carriage wheels.
The Original:
(Letter #1 of "A Hundred Love Letters")
By Nizar Qabbani
Translated by A.Z. Foreman
Click to hear me recite the original Arabic
I want to write you words
That are unlike any wording,
To invent a language for you alone
To tailor it to the size of your body,
To the breadth of my love.
I want to journey away from the leafed-through dictionary,
To take leave of my mouth.
For I am tired of going the rounds of my mouth
And want another one
That can change when it chooses
Into a cherry tree
Or a matchbox.
I want a new mouth from which words can emerge
Like white nymphs surging out of the ocean foam
Like white chicks bursting out of a magician's hat.
Take all the books I read in childhood
Take all my grammar-school notebooks
Take the chalk and the pens and the blackboards
And teach me a new word I can hear
And hang like an earring on my lover's ear.
I want other fingers
To write another way.
For I hate fingers that are not too long or too short
As I hate trees that neither die nor grow.
I want new fingers
Raised high as ship-masts
Long as a giraffe's neck
So I can tailor a poetry-garment for my love
That she never wore before me.
I want to fashion you an alphabet
Different from all the alphabets,
Comprising rhythms of the rain,
The dust of the moon
The sadness of grey clouds
And the aching of the willow-leaves
Breaking beneath September's carriage wheels.
The Original:
أريد أن اكتب لك كلاما
لا يُشبه الكلام.
وأخترع لغة لك وحدك
أفصّلها على مقاييس جسدك
ومساحة حبّي،
أريد أن أسافر من أوراق القاموس
وأطلب إجازة من فمي.
فلقد تعبتُ من استدارة فمي
أريد فماً آخر..
يستطيع أن يتحوّل متى أراد
إلى شجرة كرز..
أو علبة كبريت..
أريد فماًجديداً تخرُج منه الكلمات
كما تخرُج الحوريات من زبد البحر
وكما تخرُج الصيصان البيضاء من قبّة الساحر
خذوا جميع الكت التي قرأتها في طفولتي
خذوا جميع كراريسي المدرسية
خذوا الطباشير...والأقلام...والألواح السوداء...
وعلّموني كلمةً جديدة
أعلّقها كالحَلَق في أُذْن حبيبتي...
أريد أصابع أخرى..
لأكتب بطريقةٍ أخرى..
فأنا أكره الأصابع التي لا تطول...ولا تقصُر.
كما أكره الأشجار التي لا تموت..ولا تكبُر.
أريد أصابع جديدة..
عاليةً كصواري المراكب
وطويلة كأعناق الزرافات
حتّى أفصّل لحبيبتي قميصاً من الشِعر..
لم تلبسه قَبلي
أريد أن أصنع لك أبجديّة
غيرَ كلّ الأبجديات.
فيها شيء من إيقاع المطر..
وشيء من غبار القمر
وشيء من حزن الغيوم الرمادية
وشيءمن توجّع اوراق الصفصاف
تحت عربات أيلول
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