الشجرةُ، قصيدةٌ وعكاّز

ما أشبه هزّة الغصن بهزّة الحبّ
من كليهما يسّاقط الـ …
°°°
الشّاعر الذي أحبّ الشجرة
حين خانته قامته
تنهّد ” طويلا “
حتّى اعشوشب ّ المجازُ
°°°
الشّاعر الذي أحبّ الشجرة
لم يبلغ شهوة المعنى
إلاّ و نثار الزهر يحجبه
°°°
أن تكون عاشقا سرياليا
هو أن تواعد شجرة على حافة نهر
ثمّ تجيء متأخّرا عن موعدك
لتجد أنّ الشجرة قد اختفت
و أنّ ماء النّهر قد صار أخضر
°°°
أن تكون شاعرا سرياليا
هو أن ترى أشجار البامبو
إبرا صينية
و الرّبوة … مرتفعا لحميّا
°°°
جدّتي لا مثيل لها
فقط لمّا تسدل شعرها
تشبهها شجرة اللوز
°°°
الموت وقوفا
استثناء شجريّ
رغم أنّ الحالات التي تنتاب الشجرة
تنتاب الشّاعر أيضا
°°°
ها شاعر مجنون
يملأ جيبيه ترابا،
يغرس أصابعه و يقول:
أبحث عن روح الشجرة !
°°°
الشاعر العجوز
كلّ ما بقي له من شجرته
قصيدة وعكّاز

………..

*شاعرة جزائرية

——————————–

The Tree: A Poem and a Walking Stick

Algerian Poet Afraa Kamir Talibi

Translated by Nizar Sartawi

Try to hold a tree in your arms

and gently pass your hand

as if you were touching the sleeping breast

of a woman in her forties

No doubt the bark’s color will change

and leaves will grow on all the boughs

****

The quiver of a bough is like the quiver of love

from both drops the…

****

The poet who loved the tree…

when his stature failed him

took a deep long sigh

and metaphor became lush with grass

****

The poet who loved the tree

was concealed with the dust of blossoms

when he reached the desire of meaning

****

To be a surrealistic poet

is to date a tree on the edge of a river

then arrive late for the date

to find the tree has vanished

and the river water has become green.

****

To be a surrealistic poet

is to see bamboo trees

as Chinese acupuncture needles

and the hill…  as a mount of flesh

****

My grandmother is peerless 

Only when she releases her tresses

does the almond tree look like her

****

Dying while standing

is an arboreal exception

though what the tree passes through 

occurs to the poet too.

****

There goes an insane poet

who fills his pockets with dust

and sends his fingers deep, saying:

I am looking for the spirit of the tree!

****

The old poet…

nothing remained of the tree for him

save for a poem and a walking stick.