بَيتٌ مُضاءٌ لا يَسكُنُهُ أَحَد — منذر مصري 50 قصيدة

إذا راقَبتَهُ

مِن نافِذَةِ بَيتٍ قَريب

If you watch it

from the window of a nearby house

أَو مِنَ الرَّصيفِ المُقابِل

خَلفَ جِذعِ شَجَرَة

or from the opposite sidewalk,

behind the trunk of a tree,

لَن تَرى رَجُلاً

يَخرُجُ أَو يَدخُلُ

you will not see a man

leaving or entering,

أَو امرَأَةً تَقِفُ عَلى الشُّرفَة

لن تَلمَحَ رَأساً

or a woman standing on the balcony;

you will not glimpse a head

يُطِلُّ مِنَ النَّافِذَة

أَو ظِلالاً

peering out of the window,

or shadows

تُرسَمُ عَلى السَّتائر.

/

traced on the curtains.

/

وإن بِدافِعِ الفُضول

عَبَرتَ المَسافَةَ الَّتي تَفصِلُ

And if, out of curiosity,

you cross the distance that separates

بَينَهُ وبَينَ مَكمَنِك

فَسَوفَ تَجِدُ مِصباحاً صَغيراً

it from your hiding place,

then you will find a small lamp

يُنيرُ غُرَّةَ بابِه

وهذا يَعني

illuminating the brow of its door.

And this means

أَنَّ في داخلِ البيتِ مَن سَوفَ

يَفتَحُ لكَ البابَ إذا قَرَعتَه

that inside the house there is someone who will

open the door for you if you knock on it.

لَكِنَّهُ الصَّمتُ

هُوَ مَن يَستَقبِلُكَ

But it is silence

that welcomes you,

فاتِحاً لَكَ ذِراعيه

مُغلِقاً عَلَيكَ ذِراعَيه

opening its arms to you,

closing its arms around you.

مَثَلُهُ مَثَلُ غِيابِكَ

تَدريبٌ عَلى

It, like your absence, is

a rehearsal for

المَوت.

/

death.

/

وإن تَجَرَّأتَ

ودَفَعتَ دَفَّةَ البابِ قَليلاً قَليلاً

And if you dare

and push the door panel little by little,

فسَيُبهِرُ عَينَيكَ

فَجأَةً

then your eyes will be dazzled

suddenly

انفِلاتُ ضَوءٍ حادٍّ

مِنَ الشَّقِّ الَّذي صَنَعتَهُ بيَدِكَ

by a burst of piercing light

from the crack you made with your hand,

لأَنَّ أَحَداً

أَضاءَ غُرَفَ البَيتِ كُلَّها

because someone

lit all the rooms of the house,

وَالمَطبخَ والحَمَّام

والمَمَرَّ الضَّيقَ الطَّويل

and the kitchen and the bathroom,

and the long, narrow corridor

الَّذي نُصِبَتَ عَلى حائطِهِ

بِمُواجَهَةِ المَدخَل

on whose wall was mounted,

facing the entrance,

المِرآةُ الفِضِّيَّةُ الكَبيرة

الَّتي وَحدَها مَن رَآه

the large silver mirror,

which alone saw him

يَخرُج.

/

leave.

/

خَرَجَ

دُونَ أَن يُغلِقَ البَابَ خَلفَهُ

He left

without closing the door behind him,

وكَأَنَّهُ كانَ يَخشى أَن

يَسمَعَ صَوتَ إغلاقِهُ

as though he feared that

the sound of it closing would be heard by

نائمٌ

أَو غافِل

someone asleep

or someone unaware.

خَرَجَ وكَأَنَّهُ سَيبتاعُ غَرَضاً ما

مِنَ الدُّكانِ المُجاور

He left as though he were going to buy something

from the shop next door,

أَو خَرَجَ مُسرِعاً

ولَيسَ لَدَيهِ دَقيقَةٌ مِنَ الوَقت

or he left in a hurry

and had not a minute of time

لِيُضَيِّعَها بَحثاً عَنِ المِفتاح

وَقَد تَنَبَّهَ

to waste searching for the key,

and he had realized,

رَغمَ قَلَقِهِ واضطِرابِهِ

أَنَّه لَن يَحتاجَهُ أَبداً

despite his anxiety and agitation,

that he would never need it,

لأَنَّهُ لَن يَعودَ إلى هذا البَيت

أَبداً

because he would not return to this house

ever.

خَرَجَ دُونَ أَن يَقولَ كَلِمَة

أَو يَترُكَ عَلى الطَّاولة

He left without saying a word

or leaving on the table

وَرَقَةً صَغيرة

أَو حتَّى يُلقي خَلفَهُ

a small sheet of paper,

or even casting behind him

مُجَرَّدَ نَظرَة

خَرَجَ

a mere glance.

He left

وَكَأَنَّ أَحَداً يَنفُخُ لَهُ

بوقَ السَّيارَة

as though someone were sounding for him

the car horn.

خَرَجَ وكَأَنَّهُ

امرَأَةٌ

He left as though he were

a woman

تارِكَة.

/

leaving.

/

هَكَذا

بَيتٌ مُضاء

Like this:

a lit-up house,

وَلا يَسكُنُهُ

أَحَد..

and in it lives

no one..

25/1/1995