حملة تنظيف الخريف

قامت منذ الصباح الباكر لتُنَظِّف عقلها
التراب في معظم الأركان ... على كل الأحلام
و في المنتصف احتلَّت تفاهات بؤرة الضوء الكئيبة الوحيدة
رجعت للوراء ... وجدت صندوقين
واحد ممتلئ بكتب كانت صديقة
آنست عُزْلَتَها صيفاً تِلْو صيف
و غربة بعد غربة
و الصندوق الآخر لِعُلَبِ الدواء و السجائر
طوب و قوالب بَنَتْ بها حيواتٍ تمنّت أن تحياها
بدأت تكنس الغبار عن كتبها القديمة و أوراقها المهمة
و لملمت العلب الفارغة إلا من آثار الأحلام التي لطالما ألّفتها في لعبة التمثيل
أعادت ترتيب الصندوقين
و بدأت تلقي بال"كراكيب" الأخرى عرض النسيان
ثُمَّ أخذت تنفُضُ عن زوايا دماغها المعتمة شِبَاكاً من عنكبوت الوهم و أحلام اليقظة
أحياناً كانت تشعر بالتراب و رائحة الإهمال تخنقها
تتوقف ... تحاول أن تتنفّس ... أن تهرب
لكنّها تعرف أن لا مفر
لا بد أن تكمل المهمّة، لأن هذا مكانها الوحيد الذي لا بد أن تعيش فيه
لن يمكنها أن تؤجِّرَ الوهم بعد اليوم
فَكُلْفَتُهُ باهظةٌ و مساحته خانقة
تعود لِتُمْسِكَ بخلايا مخّها العاطلة و تهُزَّها لتفيق و تبدأ في التفكير من جديد
و تَرُشَّ - على مضضٍ - رائحة الأمل في الأركان
لعلَّ الرذاذ يكون مُقَدَّساً و مُطَهِّراً
فتحت الصندوقين، علَّها تستلهم منهما خطوتها القادمة
و فتحت شُبّاكاً صغيراً
ليدخل منه النّور ... إن جاء النّور

The rainbow that flatlined

Was she supposed to feel hope when she saw the rainbow filling the sky?
It was almost a perfect circle of soft colors, exactly as her science teacher once told her...
She couldn't deny its beauty, she couldn't help but be pleasantly surprised...
But she wanted to feel hope...
She wanted this rainbow to be her signal that all will be perfect soon...
She kept looking at it, maybe the feeling is there but she needs to give it time...
No...Nothing...It was just a beautiful rainbow...
No matter how hard she looked into herself there was not that glint of passionate hope that would have made her heart skip a beat...
The beats were normal, dull even...
It seems that her feelings flatlined...
She's devoid of all grandiose emotions...
It has become monotonous sober uninspiring daylight for her...
She looked at the rainbow one last time...
Then turned her back to it, and ran away...
And erected her walls again, higher, harsher...
She didn't want to feel anymore disappointments...
It was OK to flatline, for there was no point in climbing that hill then falling off the cliff...
It's fine to keep her feet on the solid surface of cold reason...
There's no problem with her days becoming a succession of innocuous mundane minutes...
Passion doesn't pay off, and no one will care how sincere it is...
So she let the dull rain extinguish it...
It is OK to not have hope...

أحلام فضّية

نظرت تلك المرأة إلى القمر في صفحة السماء

لم يكن مكتمل البهاء، لكنه أسبغ من بهائه المنقوص على الأمواج الغاضبة

أطيافاً من الأحلام الفضّية البرّاقة

صارت تراقب كل موجة و هي تختطف حلماً و تجري به إلى الشاطئ

هاربةً من أمواج تلاحقها

تتخيل أنّ في الشاطئ أحضاناً ستنقذها و تحتويها

كأن تحرّرها سيبدأ من ذاك الشاطئ

لكنّ الصخور الجامدة لا تلينها ستائر الضوء المنسدلة

لا تحتضن الأمواج إلا لتسرق منها الأحلام و تحطّمها

ترتدّ الموجات المنكسرة تصرخ أن الشاطئ حضنٌ خادع

و تضيع الصرخات بين هدير أمواجٍ أخرى متأمّلةٍ في الفوز بقطْعةٍ من الحلم

بقطْعةٍ من القمر

مصيرٌ بائسٌ ترمقه المرأة و يرمقه القمر بلا حيلة

لكنّه لا يبخل ببهاء الضوء الفضّي البرّاق

فلعلّ موجةً يتيمةً تنجح في أن تهربَ بحلم

تختبئ به في شاطئ بلا صخور

بلا أشلاء أحلامٍ من الماضي

أدارت المرأة ظهرها للموج و الشاطئ و القمر

و لم تمد يديها لتسرق هي الأخرى من أشعة القمر الفضّية

فالعالم الذي تعيش فيه لا يفهم العملات الفضّية

و نفضت عن ظهرها الأحلام

لا وقت للأحلام

The sounds of the ocean

I sleep every night on the sounds of the ocean...
Sometimes, the waves touch me gently,
Taking away tears of sheer exhaustion,
Bringing me smells, seashells, hidden secrets in ancient bottles...
Sometimes they hit me so hard, so brutally,
I want to cry, to scream until my soul hurts,
Until I become a void,
And my voice becomes broken bits...
The ocean hits, blows, then comforts, then gets anxious and pleading...
It becomes an addiction to argue with it...
Once, so far away in time, when I was somewhat innocent,
I gave my sandals to the ocean,
So that it'll wash them for me and then bring them back...
I truly trusted the ocean to give me back what belonged to me,
For why would it want to take it away?
What will the ocean use a pair of sandals for?
And what will the waves use a soul's naive hopes and dreams for?
Mother then told me that was stupid; the ocean doesn't bring back things...
They just float away over the faces of the waves,
Touched ever so lightly by the rays of the sun,
And dissolved into the bits and pieces of nothings...
But I got my sandals back as I wanted!
Sometimes the ocean can come back to you!
It was a wonder how my heart lost its beat in a moment,
Only to leap with relief a second later...
It was such a precise and defining moment!
But will the ocean bring back innocent hopes? Morning dreams? Dusk breezes?
Will the sun be gentle to them and not burn them into drops of fading light?
I never again trusted the ocean to bring me things,
And I tried hard to never throw things to the ocean...
Maybe I can throw my letters to the ocean,
Not for them to come back, but for them to travel so far away,
And hug a distant moon...
And maybe, just maybe, I can throw my black heart to the waves,
So they'll clean it like they did my sandals,
And bring it back to me, a whole void seashell...

The ballet scene - Armida

When I talked about Armida in my last entry, I mentioned the ballet scene as something that needs to be seen so you can understand its obvious as well as hidden meanings. The ballet scene is not subtle. As Armida charms the man she loves; Rinaldo, and brings him to a deserted island, she uses her magic to build him a pleasure palace, full of countless sensual delicacies. She sings to him, then invites a ballet performance in his honor. At the beginning Rinaldo is in his army suit, but before the ballet scene takes place this suit is taken off and he's dressed in ruffling clothes. Smitten, he sits with her to watch the ballet performance. The ballet starts with a young man in his army suit, among his soldiers. Nymphs appear in front of him, and start making all kinds of seductive moves and gestures. He gradually gives up his stern "facade" and runs after them, only to find them elusive and unreachable. Whenever he tires, they entice him again with the illusion of being reachable, only to make him run after them yet again. He turns into a pathetic spineless man going after the nymphs across the stage. Gradually, some of them disappear into doors, only to be replaced with demons or devils in skirts. What is really pathetic is that he runs after these devilish creatures as if they were real women, even though we can all see that they're not the beautiful ethereal nymphs anymore. Eventually, the nymphs bring a wreath and place it on the young soldier's head, crowning him, perhaps as their "idiot". After the dance concludes with them all over him, some of the nymph dancers take the wreath from the soldier dancer, walk over to Rinaldo, and place the wreath on his head. He's smug and smiling as if he won a grand prize!
Now my initial take on this scene was that it was too obvious! What was Armida's point of showing him his fate with with such a crude display? Why would a woman rub such a sketch in her beloved's face? Then, as I began to discuss glimpses of the scene with my friend whom I watched Armida with, revelations began to come to my mind. A man's take on the ballet is that it's in-your-face mockery of a man in love and how robbed off his will he becomes. Armida shows Rinaldo -in a very direct message that leaves no room for symbolism or misinterpretation- what is happening to him and what will happen when he becomes more and more smitten with her love, and he's still smiling! She blindfolds his mind completely! It was like telling someone that you'll hit him on the head, and you do hit him on the head, and he doesn't dock for cover, and he's smiling as the bruises color!
I have serious doubts about the degree to which men can be like that, except maybe in front of a real beauty. Otherwise men are very cautious not to fall head over heals in a woman's "love trap", either because they don't want to lose control of their lives or because they're watchful of the poison that can be in the honey. Although I read about lots of men pining over real life beauties, I doubt this is because they're in love. The image I have of a man, a real man who's in love, is that of a man who's rough around the edges and full of ambition and plans, but kind and caring and subtle when it comes to his beloved. A man's real love is full of small gestures and actions and occasional words that are not empty, but can be cliches, because he knows a woman loves that. He will not be ashamed to show her that he's weak in front of her, but even in his weakness he is strong and in charge. Maybe Armida was a woman who deserved to be loved, but Rinaldo's kind of love does not command respect for him, even if he did truly love her and was not just taken by her beauty and charm.
The picture that Rossini paints is that women are demons in disguise! And even a noble gift as love is coated with mockery and deceit. Although Armida loves her man deeply, and goes as far as building him a pleasure palace so that he'll have whatever his heart desires, she openly makes fun of his gullibility, and as a result comes across as cruel. Armida spares no effort in making Rinaldo happy, yet that does not grant her absolution of the sin that is stealing her man away from his obligations.
Rossini wants to convey the message that sometimes love makes a man an idiot! And he hates this fact, and will make Armida pay for it dearly at the end. It is not a struggle between the pagan forces and the christian faith, it is a struggle between the woman's desire to own her man and the man's quest to stay free. There is no winner in this battle, because a woman will never "own" a man forever; it is a matter of time before the oblivious opens his eyes and starts looking at the facts. A man will never stay free forever; he won't feel alive. Ultimately they both suffer; he loses the warmth of her love, and she loses the essence of her existence.
If we look more deeply, more revelations will surface, but suffice it to say that as much as the ballet scene was funny and made the audience laugh, it was as much disturbing and full of conflicting messages. It is all part of the web that is the relationship between a man and a woman, and the struggle between freedom and shackles, and the balance between love and duty.

"And I live still?" - Armida

Last Saturday, it was my first time ever to attend an opera. It was a HD live Met performance of Rossini's Armida. I thought that attending the opera won't be an ecstatic experience, I just wanted to check this off my wish-list. I'm a classical music fan, but operas seemed out of my league, maybe because of the fact that they're sung in a completely different vocal form than what I'm used to enjoy. I just thought that I need to attend an opera to confirm my "prejudice" that the opera is not my cup of tea. However, as the acts of Armida kept going one after one, I was mesmerized! I was caught up in a trance of a haunting performance and profound emotions that I've never expected to feel at an opera performance! I don't know if it's the complexity of Armida with its virtuoso arias, or if it was the experience of the opera itself as a rich form of classical music. Two scenes in particular shock me in two different ways; one of them was the ballet act, but that's to be seen and not explained, and the other one was the finale, and it is the act that compelled me to write this entry. I spent many hours trying to reach a reasonable translation of most of that act, and thought I'd share it here. But to put this final act into context, here's a very brief synopsis of the story of Armida.
Armida is an oriental sorceress at the time of the crusades, who wanted to weaken the christian army by enslaving its best soldiers. Among them was Rinaldo, whom she was already in love. She takes him to an isolated island and turns it by magic into a pleasure palace. He forgets all about battle and his duty to fight, and basks in her love. Two of his colleagues; Carlo and Ubaldo, come to bring him back and remind him of his sacred duty. He's torn between his love and his honor, and decides to leave with them. Upon hearing that he's leaving, Armida comes after him, and the following act takes place:

Armida
(from afar) Stop, you traitor!
Rinaldo
It is she ... Oh God! ... Do you hear her?
Carlo
Arm yourself with courage, friend.
Rinaldo
Alas!
Ubaldo
It may be beneficial for you to listen to her. If you resist her charms, her tears, you will prove yourself to be a hero.
Armida
(hurrying after him) It is true? ... and you are leaving me? You cruel!
Rinaldo
Destiny calls me ... Glory invites me to the field of honor ...
Armida
And glory makes you betray love, faith?
Rinaldo
(leaving) A sweet memory for me you will always be ... Remain in peace ... (To himself) Ah! it breaks my heart!
Armida
(stoping) Peace! can my pain find peace?
Ubaldo and Carlo
(talking to Rinaldo) Resist! Hide the pain from her!
Armida
Leave if you want, my only request is that I follow your steps.
(Rinaldo shows his rejection of her words, turns away, and starts leaving.)
Armida
(continuing) What more would you like? I can be your humble handmaid, whenever you want ... I will follow you as a servant wherever the ardor of war takes you ... I will be your most fervid follower ... I will care for your horses and weapons with all my vigor; I'll be your devoted lover.
Rinaldo
Alas! How I would love to follow my heart!
Ubaldo
Deceit!
Carlo
Trap!
Armida
What more do you want? I will be your squire and shield. Nothing will hurt you; it will have to pass through me first!
Rinaldo
Armida, it is time to put our mistakes into oblivion. You stay. (leaving)
Armida
Ah! Stay? And do not whine?
Rinaldo
What a punishment!
Armida
You want me to dry my eyes, and stay still, you cruel? You have the heart to leave me in this state? In my cruel torment? A grief that won't go away. You don't possess not even a spark of pity? A wild animal gave you his life, and on his soul you have nurtured! You son of cruelty!
Rinaldo
(stopping) You can not change your fate, nor I can change mine.
Armida
Ah! At least give me death, and put an end to my suffering!
Ubaldo and Carlo
(to Rinaldo) Hold on now and be strong.
Rinaldo
Farewell ...
Armida
Listen, my beloved! ... A single moment I beg!
Ubaldo
No more!
Carlo
(dragging Rinaldo) It is time to leave.
Armida
I am teetering into a pit! ... I can not stand... I feel... oh God!... Falling down...
(falls unconscious)
Rinaldo
(who was being taken away, goes back in haste) Armida! My most beloved!... Oh! I will help her!
(Ubaldo and Carlo lead him away by force)
(Armida, now that Rinaldo is away, gradually regains consciousness, then gets up, looks around)
Armida
Where Am I?! ... Flee! Leave me! Like that! The ungrateful could? ...
And I live still? ... And my desolate heart is still beating? ... What shall I do? Revenge ... Love ... Which of you I must listen to? ... What an excruciating choice!

Now this may seem very similar to many heartbreaking, even cliche, love scenes in countless chick flicks, but the intensity with which this part was sang, and the chocking melodic voices, shock me to the core, and I could feel the utter pain and agony and struggle that each of the two lovers had to endure, and the choices they had to make. It has always been very frightening for me to imagine how true love can break a soul to humiliation if it is not reciprocated, and yes, no matter how a woman can be strong and even when she possesses the power of "magic", she can be most vulnerable when in love. The irony here is that with all her magical powers, she could not let a man forget his duty. Not that a good woman would like a good man to forget his duty, but it was really cruel to face the prospect that while she was willing to let go of everything just to be with him, he was willing to let her suffer.
Armida eventually decides to listen to revenge and not love, so at the end she has her powers still, but she will have no mercy and kindness in her heart anymore!
End of story, and end of a wonderful experience that I will no doubt like to do again.

الوهج السحري

نظرت للمصباح الصغير المعتّق بالتراب المخمليّ الثّري

تراءت لها نقوشه الغامضة و كأنّها تعويذة سحريّة تناديها

تدعوها في صوت رخيم خافت يتردّد صداه رنّاناً في فراغ روحها

ألا هلمّي .. إلمسيه .. إمسحي بيديكِ على يديه

تحسّسي النّقوش لتطلقي سراح السّحر

و ينطلق المارد من عِقاله

و تتحقّق كلّ الأحلام

تعلقت أصابعها في الهواء المحمّل بأحلام اليقظة المجنونة

ترسم أناملها خيوطاً ترسم زماناً و أحداثاً من الوهم و الذّهب

امتدّت يداها إلى عنق المصباح السحريّ

احتضنته أصابعها بلهفة المشتاق للماء في الصّحراء

بِوَجَل من يتعلّق بأهداب حلم وراء ستائر الضّباب الحريريّ

و أخذت تتلمّس وعد السّحر في حنين

و نظرت في ترقّب أن تنفكّ الطّلاسم

و أن يظهر المارد الذي سيحقّق كلّ الأحلام

و لكن شيئاً لم يحدث

مجرّد هبّة باردة الأنفاس

و دفقة من ضوء باهت بدّد الوهَج المخمليّ

و المصباح بارد

ليس به مارد

غصّ قلبها بذلك الفراغ الذي يبعثه فيها وقع الحقيقة وانتهاء الحلم

ماذا كنت تظنّين؟!

هذا ليس مصباح علاء الدّين

و الحلم دوماً مجرّد دخان

و الوهج البرتقالي يهتزّ و يتبدّد

مع أول دفقة من الهواء البارد

صورة الحائط الثالثة: رائحة الأمس، و رائحة اليوم

فتحت خزانتي لأجلب ملابس جديدة، و بالصّدفة وضعت الملابس قرب وجهي، فإذ برائحة مألوفة تتسلّل إلى أنفي

إنّها رائحة لطالما احتَضَنَت أنفاسي و روحي

و غمرتني بدفء و حنوّ لم أجد لهما مثيلاً في مكان آخر

كنت أشم تلك الرائحة كلّما فتحت دولاب جدّتي في بيتها الرحب

رائحة نظيفة، بسيطة، ليس فيها من العطر قدر ما فيها من الأمان و السكينة

كنت أحياناً أسترق لحظات من أسرتي المجتمعة في الأعياد أو الزّيارات في بيت الجدّة

لأذهب و أفتح دولاباً، و أُمَلِّي أنظاري بنظامه و ترتيبه الذي يضارع ترتيب بيت لورد إنجليزي

و لكن ما كان يسمّرني طويلاً هو تلك الرّائحة

و كلّما طال الزمن زادت الرائحة جمالاً دون أن تستفزّ الأحاسيس

هل كانت رائحة الشّمس المصرية؟

هل كانت رائحة مسحوق تنظيف غال الثّمن؟

و لكنّ الرّائحة موجودة هناك منذ وعيت!

و لم أكن أجدها في أي مكان أخر!

لطالما حاولت و حاولت في بيتي

وصفات سحرية، ألاعيب حواة

و لكن دون فائدة تُذكَر

و لم يكن يُعزّيني إلّا أنّني أستطيع أن أذهب في أي وقت لأتشمّمها

و أستحضر معها أجواء جميلة، نظيفة، مشمسة، دافئة، ضاحكة

طاولات إفطار بسيطة و لكن ذات طعم مختلف وفريد

أشعّة شمس صباح ترسم في الأجواء لوحات من النّور و الصّفاء

أصوات أناس في الخارج تعمل دون كلل، بينما أنا بالداخل في جنّة أرضية بسيطة مكتملة

كنت في تلك اللحظات أنعم بالسلام من نفسي المتشاحنة مع نفسها

و عندما شممت هذه الرائحة الليلة

صُعِقت بتوق مؤلم لبيت جدّتي، و أحضان جدّتي، و دعوات جدّتي

و استحضرت صورتها الجميلة

و صرت كالمدمن أتشمّم ملابسي و أسأل نفسي من أين لي بتلك الرائحة المقدّسة؟

و لكن تأمّلت الليلة أن أحظى بنوم سعيد لم أحصل عليه منذ زمان بعيد

و أن أستطيع مستقبلاً أن أستحضر هذا السحر من جديد

سأنام في أحضان رائحة جدّتي الليلة

سأنام على صورة سعيدة ملأى بالسلام

انتهت اللّقطة

الصورة الثانية: البهجة و الوهم

توقّف فجأة عن الحديث مع ذلك الجمع من المهمّين، و نظر ليجدها هناك

امرأته، و لكنّه كاد ألّا يعرفها، كانت عيناها زجاجيّتين

منذ زمان ليس بالبعيد كانت عيناها تلتمعان بلهفة اللّقاء

و كانت إبتسامة بلهاء سعيدة ترتسم على محيّاها كلّما نظرت إليه

و لطالما رآها عبثاً تمسك تلك الابتسامة محاولة أن تلملم أطرافها المبعثرة على وجهها

كان يستغرب كيف أنّ إمرأةً يمكن أن تحبّه فوق ما يمكن أن يصدّق أن تحبّه إمرأة

و كان يحاول أن يجلدها بسياط غبائها و سذاجتها

أراها صور نساء أخريات، جميلات، ذكيّات، ممتلئات بالتّحدي و الحياة

كان يرى لحظة الإنكسار في عينيها

و كانت تحبه رغم القسوة

و أحبّها رغماً عن نفسه

رغم قسوته و نهمه للحياة و الأوقات القصيرة

و رغم رفضه لطول العمر

كانت حبيبته تراه سيّدها و مولاها

و كانت تلك النّظرات المتعبّدة تُبهجه قدر ما تُخيفه

كانت تُرضي فيه رغبة الطّفولة في أن يحبّه شخص ما بلا شروط

أن يحبّ شخص عيوبه، أن ينعم بها

لم يكن يملك إلا أن يغرقها في عيوبه المزعومة

و التي كانت لها بهجة و خمراً معتّقة لم تذق مثلها

و عندما رآها الآن

نظر إليها يبحث عن التعبّد الخجول

و لكنه وجد عينين زجاجيّتين

و رأى سكّينه في صميمها و قد تآكلته الذكريات

ألوان طيف داكنة نقشت اسمه على النّصل الحزين

كانت أوراق عمرها المهدور ترتجف في يديها

ولكنّ أنفها كان يرتفع في غطرسة الذّي سخر من الآلام و الأوهام

و هناك، تحت رأسها العزيز، رأى الغصّة، و سمع النداء

نداءاً لطالما سمعه يوماً بعد يوم في الأثير، في الهاتف، عبر وسائل الإعلام

و لم يعد يمكنه أن يتجاهله بعد الآن

عصف بقلبه الحنين الجارف إلى قلبها الدّافيء المحبّ

حنين أنكره على نفسه يوماً بعد يوم، و عمراً بعد عمر

و عندما التقت عيناهما

و خلف تلكما العينين الزجاجيّتين

رأى هنالك رماد اللّهفة القديمة و الشّوق الدّفين

و رأى الألم و الخوف

هل ستمرّ من أمامه كأن لم تعرفه؟

هل سيناديها؟

هل ستلمسه يداها أخيراً؟

انتهت اللقطة

صورة الحائط الأولى: الشرّير و النّبيل

تبدو صورته المبتسمة رمزاً لإنتصار طموحه

فخور هو بصدارته بين الأوائل، يتحدّى العدسة أن لا تلتقطه

أنا هنا، و لا أحد يحتلّ العرش غيري

نحتّ في الصخر و حفرت في البحر لأكون هنا

و سأمسح من يعترض حربي المقدسة للبقاء

ثمّ تشرد عيناه هنيهة، و يتذكّر

من آلى على نفسه أن يعبر بهم اليمّ و يعليهم فوق الفيضان

من علّقهم بسلاسل في قدميه ليمشي بهم عبر الطوفان

و تذكّر

من داس عليهم بالأوهام ليأخذ بعضاً ممّا لم يسمح لنفسه به

و تذكّر

كيف اقتطف لنفسه قبساً من روح، و قطعةً من إنسان

و تندّم

وقف في ذروة اللمعان و في منتصف اللّقطة

يبكي آلاماً سبّبها، يبكي أحلاماً كسّرها

ثم بدأ يبرّر

أنّ الطعنات يجب أن ينساها المطعون

و أن كسور الرّوح تُلملم

و غراءٌ من النسيان يكفي لتكون كما لو كانت روحاً بكراً

ثم تذكّر

أنّ الصّورة مازالت في المنتصف الزمني

و أن الكفاح و النجاح ينتظره من جديد بعد انتهاء اللقطة

فاعتدل ليقرّر

أنّ صدارته في الصّورة مصدر أمن

مصدر قوت، مصدر قوّة

و أنّ الأرواح التي كسرها ستكون فداءً لأراوح بريئة

و أنّ الطعنات التي صوّبها دون تفكّر

ستداوي قدر ما ستظل تغدر

فلتسامحه الروح المغدورة

انتهت اللقطة