My Obsession of Sofi

 

كل لغة لديها ذوقها وأحاسيسها وترجماتها للمعاني العميقة لدي الروح والعقل.. ولعل هذا من إبداع الخالق جلّ شأنه في أن جعلنا "شعوباً وقبائلا لتعارفوا". وللمرة الأولى أفقد قياد نفسي وأفكاري بهذا الجمال الآخّاذ الذي لم يصادفني مثله، وتمنيث لو يعود بي الزمن عقوداً .. لكي أقدم كل الغالي مهراً له وللروح الآسرة في ثناياه.. وفي الآبيات العربية التالية وترجمتها الكثير مما أود قوله، وما لم تدركني اللغة للتعبير عنه

Every language possesses its own unique flavor, sensibilities, and ways of translating the profound emotions of the soul and mind—perhaps a testament to the creativity of the Creator, Exalted be He, who made us "peoples and tribes that we may encounter one another." For the first time, I find myself utterly captivated—surrendering control of my thoughts and self—to a beauty unlike any I have ever encountered. I wish I could turn back the clock decades, to offer everything precious as a tribute to this beauty and to the soul that dwells within its verses. The following Arabic lines, and their translation, convey much of what I wish to express—and much of what language alone fails to capture.

عيناكِ

عيناكِ سحرُ مترفُ كاد يُهلِكني

فمن ذا الذي عن جمال عينيك يصبرٌ ؟

وبأي حرف قد اصوغ جمالك

وبأي شعر أحتوي عيناك

ذهب الجمال بكل دارٍ يبحث

حتى أتاك مقبّلاً يمناك

لا والذي وضع العيون بحجرها

ما سرت العينان قبل رؤاك.

فمتى اللِقاءُ، وكم يطول تساؤلي

هل في الحياة بقية لأراك؟

A Translation in Free Modern English 

Your Eyes

Your eyes—an exquisite spell, so fierce and rare,

They nearly brought me to my end.

Who, then, could ever stand unmoved

Before the beauty of your eyes?

With what letters could I shape your beauty?

With what verse could I contain your eyes?

Beauty wandered through every dwelling,

Searching for a home—

Until it came to you,

And kissed your hand.

No—by Him who set the eyes within their stones,

My eyes had never truly seen

Until the day they looked upon you.

And when shall we meet?

How long must I remain lost in wonder, asking?

Is there still some life left for me—

Enough to see you once again?

A Version in Victorian Classic English 

Your Eyes

Thine eyes, a lavish spell, have nearly slain me—

What heart could stand their beauty and not flee?

What tongue could frame the splendour thou hast given?

What verse contain those eyes, whose depths are heaven?

Through every house did Beauty roam and seek

A dwelling worthy of her radiant cheek;

Till, finding thee, she paused beside thy door,

And kissed thy hand—then sought her home no more.

By Him who set the eyes within their stone,

I swear my eyes had never truly known

The grace of sight, nor dawn, nor skies of blue,

Until the hour they first beheld thee true.

When shall we meet? How long must longing stay,

And question through the silence night and day?

Tell me—has Life reserved one hour for me,

One final glimpse of thee, before I cease to be?