الشاعر: وهيب نديم وهبة

 أَلْمَرْأةُ  سَمَكَةٌ  لَوْ ...

سَتَنْزِلُ ﭐللَّيْلَةَ، كَمَا تَهْوَى،

مِنْ فُرْشَاةِ أَلْوَانِي،

مِنْ رِعْشَةِ جَسَدِي وَنَشْوَةِ رُوحِي...

وَشَهْوَةِ أَصَابِعِي.

مِنْ مَوْجِي أَطْلَعُ نُورًا كَالزَّبَدِ عَلَى ﭐلْمَاءِ...

دَمِي يُخَرْمِشُ ﭐلْقِمَاشَ،

يُخَرْبِشُ كَقِطَّةٍ تَطْلَعُ مِنْ عُلَبِ ﭐلتَّلْوِينِ.

أَرْسُمُكَ نَبْضًا يَسْرِي، يَجْرِي،

يُحْدِثُ مُوسِيقَى فِي جَسَدِي...

تَخْرُجُ مِنَ ﭐللَّوْحَةِ جَسَدًا مِنْ لَحْمٍ وَدَمٍ

تَسْبَحُ فِي ﭐللَّوْنِ ﭐلْمَائِيِّ،

تَسْبَحُ فِي دِمَائِي.

هُوَ جَسَدي ﭐلْمَرْسُومُ أَمَامَك...

لِمَاذَا لَا تَضُمُّنِي، وَتُغْلِقُ ﭐلْكِتَابَ،

فَمِي كِتَابُ شِعْرٍ،

وَأَنْتَ تُحِبُّ ﭐلْكِتَابَةَ،

أُكْتبْ شَيْئًا مَلْمُوسًا،

أَحِسُّ فِيكَ،

أُكتُبْ شَيْئًا مَحْسُوسًا...

يُثِيرُ حَوَاسَّ ﭐمْرَأَةٍ

تَشْرَبُ مِنْ عَيْنَيْكَ حَنَانًا،

تَذُوبُ فِي رَاحَتَيْكَ...

كَذَوَبَانِ ﭐللَّوْنِ عَلَى ﭐلْقِمَاشِ.

أَضِفْ لَوْنًا لِقَامُوسِ أَلْوَانِي،

بَعْثِرْنِي،

بَعْثِرْ حَيَاتِي أَشْعُرُ بِالضَّيْقِ.

تَضِيقُ ﭐلْجُدْرَانُ ﭐلْأَرْبَعَةُ عَلَى جَسَدِي،

تَشُدُّ ﭐلْخِنَاقَ... تَخْنُقُني... أَمُدُّ يَدَيَّ،

آخُذُكَ مِنْ يَدِكَ كَطِفْلٍ إِلَى مَرْسَمِي...

كُنْتُ فِي كَامِلِ زِينَتِي،

وَمَلَابِسِي تَرْتَدِي جَسَدِي،

وَأَمَامَكَ عَارِيَةٌ أَنَا كَالْبَحْرِ...

وَقَفْتَ بِجَانِبِي،

سَقَطَ ﭐللَّوْنُ مِنْ يَدِي،

أُحْضُنِّي، عَطْشَى، عَطْشَى أَنَا...

وَمَاءُ ﭐلْأَلْوَانِ لَا يَرْوِي عَطَشِي.

هُزَّنِي، سَتَنْطِقُ خَارِجَ ﭐللَّوْحَةِ

سَتفْتَحُ فَمَكَ...

وَتَكْتُبُ كِتَابَ ﭐللَّيْلَةِ ﭐلْعَاشِقَةِ.

أَحْمِلُكَ مَعِي،

تَدْخُلُ غُرْفَةَ نَوْمِي،

أَخْلَعُ مَلَابِسِي...

أَنْتَ تَهْوَانِي كَمَا جَاءَ فِي ﭐلْعِشْقِ.

أَلْمَرْأَةُ سَمَكةٌ...

لَوْ خَرَجَتْ مِنْ بَحْرِ ﭐلْعِشْقِ لَمَاتَتْ. 

أَخْلَعُ مَلَابِسِي، تَقِفُ بِجَانِبِي،

لِمَاذَا لَا تَقْفِزُ إِلَى سَرِيرِي.

أَعْشَقُكَ،

مُدَّ يَدَكَ...

أَنَا ﭐللَّيْلَةَ جَسَدٌ يَحْرِقُهُ ﭐلشَّوْقُ،

وَأَسْتَيْقِظُ: أَنْتَ لَا تَزَالُ دَاخِلَ ﭐللَّوْحَةِ.
 

Waheeb Nadeem Wahbah

The woman is a fish if…

You will descend tonight, as you wish

From the brush of my colors,

From the tremor of my body

and the ecstasy of my soul...

And the lust of my fingers.

From my waves I shine a light 

like the foam on water...

My blood is scratching the cloth,

Scrabbles as a cat coming out from the coloring box.

I draw you as a pulse flowing, running,

Making music streams in my body...

You emerge from the painting a body of flesh and blood

Swimming in the water colors,

Swimming in my blood.

It is my body that is drawn before you...

Why do not you embrace me and close the book,

My mouth is the book of poetry

And you like writing,

Write something that can be felt and touched...

I feel in you,

Write something that is tangible...

Stirring the senses of a woman

drinking affection from your eyes,

Melting in your hands...

Like the melting of the color on the cloth.

Add a color to the dictionary of my colors,

Scatter me,

Disperse my life, I feel distress, depressed...

The four walls narrow tightly on my body,

Narrowing me hard... Choking me... I stretch my hand,

I take you from your hand like a child to my atelier...

I was in my full beauty,

My clothes were wearing my body,

And before you I am naked I like the sea...

You stood by my side,

The color fell from my hands,

Hug me, I am thirsty, badly thirsty...

The water of the colors does not satisfy my thirst.

Shake me, you'll utter outside the painting

You will open your mouth...

And write the book of the loving night.

I will carry you with me

You will inter my bedroom,

I take off my clothes...

You love me as it is written in the adoration

The woman is fish...

If she comes out from the love sea,

 she you will die.

I take off my clothes, you stand beside me,

Why do not you jump into my bed

I adore you,

Extend your hand...

Tonight I am a body that is burning by longing,

And I wake up: You are still inside the painting.

الترجمة للغة الإنجليزية الشاعر والمترجم حسن حجازي حسن.