ترجمة قصيدة سلام على بغداد

[ahmed_allaithy]

قصيدة سلام على بغداد
للشاعر: عبد الرزاق عبد الواحد

كبيرٌ على بغداد أنّي أعافُها
وأني على أمني لديها أخافُها
كبيرٌ عليها، بعدما شابَ مفرقي
وجفَّتْ عروقُ القلبِ حتى شغافُها
How unbearable it is for Baghdad that I forsake her,
That someone as insignificant as I should fear to leave her.
How unbearable it is for her, now that my hair has turned grey,
And the veins of my heart have dried up to their deepest sway.
تَتبَّعثُ للسَّبعين شطآنَ نهرِها
وأمواجَهُ في الليلِ كيف ارتجافُها
وآخَيتُ فيها النَّخلَ طَلعاً، فَمُبسِراً
إلى التمر، والأعذاقُ زاهٍ قطافُها
For seventy years, by her river I stayed,
Watching its waves in the night as they swayed.
I bonded with her palms, from buds to ripe fruit,
From tender green shoots to harvests absolute.
تَتبَّعتُ أولادي وهم يملأونها صغاراً
إلى أن شَيَّبتهُم ضفافُها!
تتبَّعتُ أوجاعي، ومسرى قصائدي
وأيامَ يُغني كلَّ نفسٍ كفافُها
I watched my children as they filled her streets with joy,
Small, until her banks aged them just like me.
I traced my pains and the paths of my verse,
In days when each soul lived with only what it needed to be free.
وأيامَ أهلي يملأُ الغيثُ دارهَم
حياءً، ويُرويهم حياءً جفافُها!
فلم أرَ في بغداد، مهما تلبَّدتْ
مَواجعُها، عيناً يهونُ انذرافُها
In days when rain blessed my family's humble abode,
With modesty, even drought quenched their load.
For never in Baghdad, no matter how thick the grief,
Have I seen tears fall lightly, nor sorrow seek relief.
ولم أرَ فيها فضلَ نفسٍ، وإن ذوَتْ
ينازعُها في الضائقات انحرافُها
وكنّا إذا أخَنَتْ على الناس غُمّةٌ
نقولُ بعون الله يأتي انكشافُها
Nor did I see a soul, though worn by strife,
Bend to despair, clinging tightly to life.
When darkness loomed, and trouble cast its weight,
We would say, "By God’s grace, hope will penetrate."
ونغفو، وتغفو دورُنا مطمئنّةً
وسائُدها طُهرٌ، وطهرٌ لحافُها
فماذا جرى للأرض حتى تبدَّلتْ
بحيث استوَتْ وديانُها وشِعافُها
And we would sleep, our homes serene and pure,
Their pillows were virtue, their blankets secure.
But what has happened to this cherished land,
Where valleys and peaks now blend into one strand?
وماذا جرى للأرض حتى تلوَّثت
إلى حدّ في الأرحام ضجَّتْ نِطافُها
وماذا جرى للأرض.. كانت عزيزةً
فهانتْ غَواليها، ودانت طِرافُها
What has befallen this earth, once untouched and clean,
That even in wombs, her seeds now scream?
What has become of this once-proud place,
Now her riches are squandered, her beauty erased?
سلامٌ على بغداد.. شاخَتْ من الأسى
شناشيلُها.. أبلامُها.. وقِفافُها
وشاخت شواطيها، وشاخت قبابُها
وشاخت لفرط الهمِّ حتى سُلافُها
Peace be upon Baghdad—her balconies aged by sorrow,
Her boats and her cliffs, stolen by time’s tomorrow.
Her shores have aged, her domes have grown old,
Even her wine, burdened by grief untold.
فلا اكتُنِفَتْ بالخمر شطآنُ نهرِها
ولا عاد في وسعِ النَّدامى اكتنافُها!
No longer do her riverbanks cradle the wine,
Nor do the revelers in her vineyards recline.
سلامٌ على بغداد.. لستُ بعاتبٍ
عليها، وأنَّى لي وروحي غلافُها
فلو نسمةٌ طافتْ عليها بغيرِ ما
تُراحُ به، أدمى فؤادي طوافُها
Peace be upon Baghdad—I lay no blame,
How could I, when my soul still bears her name?
If a breeze touched her that was not her own,
My heart would bleed from its distant tone.
وها أنا في السَّبعين أُزمِعُ عَوفَها
كبيرٌ على بغداد أنّي أعافُها!
And here I stand, at seventy, to depart,
Forsaking Baghdad, though it breaks my heart.
How could it be, that someone small as I,
Could leave her now, after so long gone by?

[ahmed_allaithy]

وهذه محاولة أخرى لإعادة صياغة (وليس ترجمة) القصيدة شعرًا

A Lament for Baghdad

How grievous 'tis, that I should part from thee,
O Baghdad, though I be of little worth;
That such as I, with trembling heart, should flee,
Whilst thou dost bear the weight of my long birth.
For now my silver’d locks do tell the years,
And all the veins that once ran full are dry;
For threescore years and ten, beside thy tears,
I've dwelt, as moonlit waves did kiss the sky.

Thy palms I knew from tender bud to bloom,
From early green to dates of richest hue.
My children played beneath thy leafy plume,
And aged, as I, beneath thy watchful view.
I traced my woes, my verses in thy dust,
When every soul with little did survive,
When rain did fall on humble homes, and trust
That e’en in drought, thy mercy would revive.

In thee, no tear did lightly touch the ground,
Nor grief find solace in despair's embrace;
No soul, though bowed by strife, was ever found
To yield to darkness, in that blessed place.
When troubles cast their shadow on thy land,
We whispered of the hope that soon would rise;
And peaceful slumber held us hand in hand,
Our homes were sanctuaries 'neath thy skies.

But what foul change has swept across thy breast,
That mountains low, and valleys high are pressed?
What curse has tainted earth once pure and blessed,
That even unborn life doth cry, oppressed?
Where art thou now, O Baghdad proud and free,
Thy riches scattered, beauty torn from thee?

Peace be upon thee, Baghdad, worn with time,
Thy balconies, once fair, now weathered, cold.
Thy boats adrift, thy cliffs no longer climb,
Thy wine of sorrow aged, grown gray and old.
No more thy riverbanks embrace the vine,
No more the revelers beneath thee lie.
Thy shores grow weary with the weight of thine,
And even time seems but a mournful sigh.

Yet peace be still upon thee, O my love,
For I would lay no blame upon thy soul;
How could I, when thy name my heart doth move,
And in thy keeping lies my spirit whole?
If but a breeze from foreign lands did blow,
And dared to touch thee not with tender care,
My heart would break, and I would weep to know
Thy breath was troubled by a distant air.

Now here I stand, at seventy, to part,
Though every footstep tears my heart in twain.
How strange that one so small should yet impart
Such sorrow, as my leaving brings thee pain.
For after all these years within thy grace,
How can I leave thee, Baghdad, from this place?