..ُوأتسآءل

كنتُ أتسألُ يوماً
لمَ دائمًا النصوصُ تنضحُ بالألمِ والوجعِ؟
جميعُها نازفةٌ بحزنٍ
بعدَ تمعنٍ
..أدركتُ بأنَّ السعداءَ لا يعرفونَ القراءةَ والكتابة

كنتُ أتسألُ يوماً
لمَ الحماقةُ تتخذُ أرواحنَا وحياتنَا لها موطنًا
بدونِ رخصٍ للإقامةِ؟
بعدَ تفكيرٍ
أدركتُ "حماقةَ"سؤالي
"لأنَّ الحماقةَ "بلهاءٌ
..لا تعي غيرَ الحماقة

كنتُ أتسألُ يوماً
لمَ نبقي على بابِ الأملِ حتى بعد أنْ تجاوزنا القدرُ
و تبقى لنا أمنيةً
لو أنْ كنَّا منْ أولئكَ الذين دخلوا عالمَه
نعودُ نطرقُ بابَه رغمَ أنَه أُغلقَ بلا عودةٍ ..؟
بعدَ تأملٍ
أدركتُ أنَّ منْ يعشْ غافلًا عنِ الأملِ
شخصٌ محظوظٌ باختيارِ الأملِ له
..فقررتُ أنْ أتنّكرَ له بصورةِ غافلِه

..أتسألُ الآن
لمَ نطرحُ الأسئلةَ ونملئُ كوننَا بالاستفهامِ دومًا
وأدركتُ بأنَّ الأسئلةَ
محفزٌ للماءِ الراكدِ بأنْ يسيرَ
..و للحقيقةِ بأنْ تستمرَ

Written by Dalal Al-Jabr

I was wondering once,
Why did texts always bleed with pain and agony?
They all bled sadly..
And after thinking deeply,
I've realized that happy people don't know how to read or write..

I was wondering once,
Why did foolishness take hold of our lives and souls as its home
without permission?
And after thinking for a while,
I've realized how "foolish" my question was,
Because foolishness is "stupid"
Does not perceive anything but foolishness..

I was wondering once,
Why did we cling to the door of hope?
After that fate has passed us by,
and left a wish for us...
If we were one of those who entered its world,
we'd knock on its door again, though it has been closed for good..

After pondering,
I've realized that who lives unmindful of hope is a lucky person,
for that hope has chosen them,
So I've decided to disguise in being unmindful of it.,

I'm wondering now,
Why do we ask questions and always fill our universe with inquiry?
And I've realized that questioning is a motive
for still waters to run,
And for the truth to carry on..

Dalal is a good writer, God bless her.
I'd love to read your opinions about my translation :)