ترجمة الجزء الأول من رواية الرائع القدير المهندس عبد الزهره عماره (( فتاة الصباح )) ترجمة الأديب والمترجم أ/ أحمد بيضون

 

ترجمة الجزء الأول من رواية الرائع القدير المهندس / عبد الزهره عماره (( فتاة الصباح ))

فصل من رواية

فتاة الصباح

للروائي العراقي المبدع

م. عبد الزهره عماره

The Morning Girl

Part I

The train had set off in the evening from Basra heading for the capital of Baghdad, onboard therein, that young pal of a brunette skin at the age of twenty five, handsome with unclear features of suffering or stereotypes of suppression, with little popped gazing eyesight, despite that fact, never affected his mind-blowing gestures. It was once on a summer day, it was a scorching weather overwhelmed with humidity, so he got dressed in grey pants, a whitish shirt, seated on a comfortable bench, he was overcome by meditation and over thought about his new post he was appointed at; mom and dad were saying goodbyes and so did the sister Raghda.

At half past ten in the next morning, he arrived at the main gate of the Public company of cigs manufacturing quango at Karda in Baghdad, and there he continued his concierge representative interrogations at that facility, that guy in charge greeted and saluted him in laudation and veneration:

Nice to meet you, welcome, come on, please

Ghasan replied in a diplomatic voice tone:

I hope to meet the general manager.

Could I know what for?

Ghasan handed him his credentials of job applications , so that man in regard meticulously reviewed those papers and went on erudition, then he jumped out of his seat and responded politely and respectfully:

Pardon me Mr., how nice to get acquainted with you, at your service, could you please follow to meet with the general manager?

He called upon him and they both marched through a long pathway, then they turned to the right and they stood in front of a room door at a great width with a white banner, on which it was written (General Manager)

He eventually asked him to wait for him to inform the principal about his arrival, not so long wait till he rushed out to give him the inception spark to grant him the access, then Ghasan entered to a new realm of world, in a rectangular room with gigantic astonishing sofas , with a wall portrait painting on which it was recited the Quranic verses of Korsi. After that, he stood in front of plump pile-of-meat man, a fat one with bald head except for hairlocks residuals scattered on both forehead flanked over a circular facial appurtenance, putting a glassy glasses on both eyeballs recline on the projected protruded big nose. He shook hands with him showing a special appreciation and gratitude along with throbbing heart perplexed pulses.

The latter welcomed in return with coarse sound pitch:

Welcome, you can have a seat , sir.

Politely cherished with modesty and humbleness he responded:

-thank you mister.

That managed had rung the bell to call for the courier, he asked him to fetch a cup of tea for the interest of Mr. Ghasan, and he kept up folding the papers of assignment , moments passed by later on, in order to voucher the notice of appointment ordained and ratified for endorsement and signing off to be delivered to the one who received him, after the managerial declaration of the facility in concern of technical affairs.

The general manager respectively called upon the chief executive of the public personnel affairs, who was assigned to be in charge and keep a close watch on Ghasan and allocate all the necessary needs.

Mr. Ghassan told that man in charge:

I need you so much, and my dire need to know every precise aspect of tasks assigned to me.

The other replied in a pictured smile:

Hold your horses! , you still have time enough to get acknowledged, the headmaster confirmed that I kept your company all the week round to meet your ends.

My hearty thanks, sir.

Now, sit down and relax, have some rest after that long weary trip.

Then, he paused that kind of talk to take another discourse turn:

How is Basra?

In good shape

Good kind people there, living from hand to mouth.

Thanks for your compliment.

I had too many friends there during the military service, role ideal for kindness and morality.

God bless you for that great trust.

Do all Basrians with dark brunette skin?

Nope, afew with white skin, but not the bleaching whiteness of milk.

That white color is not a mannerism ascribed to men in general.

You mean girls?

Yes, they are of brunette skin too , some others blonde.

Ghasan noticed that his colleague started elaborating incessant stream of impelling questioning, so he tried out hardly to put an end and cross the route of interrogation wondering:

Could I find an apartment in the nearby?

Yes, existed but not that far from the company.

Could you kindly give me the destination and coordinates, much obliged to do so?

With pleasure.

Sure.

Consider it in your pocket, at your property.

How wonderful and stunning to meet you sir!

We will go on the spot to the apartment lord

How lucky I am, in a flash!

Of course.

It took both of them an hour to reach their targeted end, Ghasan received the apartment keys, it was clean comfortable well-furnished entirely on the second floor and close to the quango simultaneously.

The Public Affairs headmaster said:

Now, it is time for lunch

Yeah, certainly.

Let's head for a restaurant I am used to going to as usual, be my guest!

I swear by God that you shower me with blessings and grants, I owe you a lot, I feel that blush on face.

Believe me or not, pal , I feel safe and secure with your jocund company at the first glance.

After lunch, Ghasan returned back to his lodge after waving goodbye to the fellow partner the affair's head, thanking for his endless hospitality and his exerted effortless burdens for his good.

Ghasan threw his weary body on bed, still clad in his clothing without taking off his shoes, and overslept in a deep slumber.

More than a month passed by, he traveled to Basra to see his clans and his dear relatives, then he spent four days, normally he turned back to Baghdad at a good shape and fully at peace of mind. On a Friday's evening, he glimpsed a stature of a girl standing in the terrace of the apartment on the other opposite side, she broke in torrents, she had a dazzling beauty and gorgeous feminine appeal, she amounted the age of twenty as seemed, her black hair with long braids drooping over her projected breasts, with reddish cheeks and nose because of the crying tears. Apparently she flouted her hands against the walls as a sign of grief and profundity of pain, she kept on breathing in with a stumbled whiff, rubbing her weeping eyes with hands, then raising up hand palms to ask God in plea and Doa'a invocations and supplications to implore the Almighty to rid of that fatal tormenting torture. Ghasan was embezzling that curious looks at her glance, stunned by her charm, and he lamented too on that fated poor girl who was exposed clearly to an obnoxious deed as proved and imagined in his conjecture and inner whispers.

Shame, darn it ! it is a taboo to make that angel cry.

For sure, he didn’t know the motives behind that scene of anguish , and what was the initiator for instigated tears and sever melancholy, perhaps she was under slander and familial punishment by hitting her or a spouse dominion if she were married in reality, still plain truth was an ambiguity for Ghasan.

After some minuets, she wiped out her tears and soothed her fright getting into the terrace or balcony doorway, yet Ghasan was in confusion thinking about that girl, as he wished to see her getting outside another time to enjoy that luring seductive feminine beauty.

Howe ever, she stayed for long and never came to sight that daytime, while Ghasan burnt his all nighter thinking of her as her envisaged picture possessed his heart and soul till the dawn break.

That morning, before he went for his work, he glanced at that terrace and still no sign of a girl, then he departed for work, obsessed with the morbid thoughts of that charming, she got hold of his heart and dominated his entity, he was entrenched in work at the company, but he left his heart out there. He dreamed that time swiftly passed by to get back to see her as he yearned to.

Of course, that time he saw her around half past three in the afternoon, she was spreading her laundry clothes on the pegged suspended ropes in the terrace corridor, he could felt that unprecedented happiness over him, looking at her and still not fulfilling his thirst till she was done with that scene, then she faded away inside the apartment again, whereas he was still nailed and tongue-twisted unable to say anything?

His eyes eventually still pinned on the vacant terrace on the opposite side , the beloved disappeared entirely and never came again that night.

Earlier that next morning, he took a speedy glance over the terrace and he couldn’t find out a trail for her, yet he flashed his sight downwardly towards the building gate, he could see her going outdoors, he rushed to get out without former planning and hastily had trodden the street at quick paces in pursuit of her till the outreach of few meters away, respectively he had shown himself up unto her, trembling his instinctive inner self out of her facial amaze and overwhelmed with delicious pathos of feelings invading his heart by that outrageous feminism, he was approaching her trots and dared to asker her with a blush:

Excuse me, good morrow.

She looked back in an indifferent insinuation and never saluted, but kept on walking, he was persistent and insisted on asking again:

Please, is there any Sammon Bread bakery in the vicinity?

But she muttered back and ironically she responded:

-that is the bakery, can't you see?

She was pointing at the bakery when he felt offended and embarrassed:

Pardon, excuse my expression, I am your neighbor and still new resident in the opposite apartment.

She raised her eyesight and glanced his appearance, picturing a minuet smile, and never said something but continued her walk, while Ghasan was saying politely in contemptuous meekness:

Sorry, I caused you embarrassment.

He was shocked at her beauty closely, he was seduced till igniting his veins and molesting his feelings by her voice intonation, he could feel that crush and mustleflex of love at first sight.

He saw her that time closer , she had laudable straightened stature, with white skin, gazing wide eyes reflecting capturing bright, with plain superficial facial gestures without cosmetics of pigmented dyes, her natural envisaged features and epithets were devoid of scars, moles and freckles by which those who cast their looks were stunned and vexed without permission.

He could feel that charming look kindling his envy and molesting flirty eyesight which he couldn’t fancy the sorcery enchanted charm of that angel before him, fully equipped with all feminine capabilities.

He bought the samon bread then , and hurried back home, in the hope that he could see her and cast his looks, but she wasn’t there, as he awaited her without a sign of her.

The reality behind the scenes was that she embezzled looks at him too, throughout the room window overlooking the terrace belonged to him and he was unaware.

She was looking and broke in giggles and laughter , moments went by, that girl shown up and cast a swift look and smiled , then took a hideout, while Ghasan received that picture reciprocal smile with joy and relaxation, but she stayed for long and let him suffer. The next day, he set off for work, dwelling the land of lovers and insipidness of morbid adoration simultaneously, he didn’t know the hidden secrecy behind that smile, was it for the sake of likeness or satire and resentment? How knows!

That evening,

Ghasan was sitting at the writing table in front of him at the apartment, he set his heart on writing a letter message, he was perplexed at first instance; what to write for her as beloved, or to directly proclaimed his love by saying : ' I love you'. After spending too much time contemplating and overthinking his love lines, he repeated reading, then tore them away in the litter bin, then wrote " I love you" one sole word , in a while he threw likewise the precedent. It wasn’t until he was overcome with correct guiding message ' to send her his cellular phone number' that he convinced himself of that procedure , then wrapped his corporal stature under the sheets till the next morning living in his fairy dreams to fancy her straight pride as a prodigy with braided long hair and blackish eyes of pelting bright that made him feel euphoria storming his heart and silhouette in his veins.

It took him one consecutive morning to meet with her when she headed for the bakery, to hand her the phone number of his own and asked him to call at night to converse if all depends.

He saw her descending the stairs and getting out of the main gate, he hastened to toe her line and go down the stairs and in pursuance of her he rushed in a hurry, stepping back from her till he walked past and looked hither and thither to make sure nobody was there, not to arouse suspicion, stepping nearer then he threw that paper saying:

Good morning, I hope you call me at night.

She was afraid lest somebody could see her or glance her chitchat with a stranger, he trespassed her steps and raced her towards the bakery, the time when she felt hesitated and vexed as she picked up the message and put her away under her chest racking, she bought the samon bread then, getting back in a rush to her apartment overwhelmed with perplexity and panic features on her facial gesture, while Ghasan got back to open up the terrace corridor to see her reactions eagerly, after awhile she get out of the balcony and cast a smile nodding her head, then she vanished again getting in – that notified him she had an appeal for him or incepted crush for him, which met by consent , that new status quo calming down his nerves and attaining such serenity at heart and merriment flowing through his veins.

Ghasan left the apartment heading for the company with a passion and longingness to speak with her awaiting the night call. He wished the whale of time went by in a flash therein to discourse with her and hear her infatuating voice, the clock was ticking three in the afternoon , he rushed to the company at his best. He through himself on the bed and cast his eyes to the ceiling top, fancying her, melting in the darkness of hairlocks, overthinking and dreaming. He was battling against that feverish and hectic obsession of love inebriation resided in his mind, abruptly he heard the phone ringing , he rushed out of fright, he could hear the cell phone telling ' hello' , none answered, he repeated over and again, he was certain that the other caller's phone was dialed on, he waited for awhile, at last an upsetting end of call came to his ears while thinking over her. It took half an hour to ring again, Ghasan hurried to respond picking up the speaker dial: ' hello', while a gentle voice struck his ears saying " welcome" – that made him dizzied and lost for words, he wasn’t able to reply to that addresser as fainted and lost his saga, while the other kept on repetition : ' Hello, Mr.Ghasan' , subsequently he was astonished and posed his question about how she knew his name, he was compelled to answer after awhile: ' yes, this is me Ghasan.' , he heard the other caller message: ' this is me Nahed, the secretary of the general manager' , he caught his chest panes rubbing up and down with frustration: ' hello, how are things? Welcome', she responded:

The general manager asked to see you on the spot, kindly attend at once.

OK.

Ghasan could feel bitterness of insipid pathos attacking and choking, he got dressed and left the house heading for the company, he spent more than an hour and get back to his apartment murmuring and growling as said:

What a bad fortune!

Then broke his silence muttering and groaning:

We still have time enough to await her call.

He persuaded himself of this notion and relaxed, but he was never calmed down and he was absent-minded, enchanted by her apparition treading his real of imagination now and then, he went out browsing for surveillance, he was keen to await her for a longing glance, till she appeared , while his heart leapt out of ribs, watching her as she was waving her fingers pointing at her, namely, she was likely to call him around eleven that evening after her parents went to bed and so her little siblings.

Ghasan knew well that insinuation and took a fretful sleep stressfully , till the clock ticked eleven, the phone rang, he rushed to pick the dial, hearing a gentle feminine voice saying: ' hello', he replied:

' welcome, I was waiting for your call impatiently'

Unbelievable, I can't imagine.

Believe it or not, heart and soul I was watching the dial to hear your voice.

It is my honor to get acquainted with you, I was perplexed before I called you, afraid of my kinship, please, could you keep me posted of your name?

This is Ghasan.

And me, Sabrine

Long live whoever named after you.

How wonderful for me to know a cultured pal like you, when was the start of your accommodation?

I am from Basra, I came her to work for the interest of Cigs Company in Karda as a computer programmer, alone in this apartment.

I could see, for sure, I recognize this fact.

Could I know what makes you cry?

Oh! Long tale to tell.

I am all ears, could you tell?

Maybe, it bothers you to hear that.

Absolutely not, I could give you a hand.

Could you please leave it for another time.

As you wish, despite the fact that I am all set to do anything and exert any effort you ask for the sake of finding out a solution for your dilemma.

She declared in astonishment:

Is it alright what you are saying?

Just give it a try!

It is a tight spot and real fix, uneasy to find a reply to this clue, you can't stand.

If there be mutual trust among us, everything could be such easy and simple.

I wouldn’t let you in, and interfere in this situation, you have nothing to do with it.

Listen to me, Sabrine, consider me the savior who rushed to bring you to safety out of that predicament.

I will tell you my long story, after I make sure you are serious to help me, first of all, talk about your life.

You are welcome, here is the story of my life.

He started to explain the detail and concise aspects of the life of his own, she was eager to listen securely till it was two after midnight, then she saw him off saying goodbyes, promising him with thankful tributes to call the next day at twelve at midnight. Finally, he wrapped himself under the mattress, laying down arms under his head, along with dreamy eyes roaming every corner in search of the apparition of ghostly figure of Sabrine, imagining her in the dreamland, where they both were hacking around an orange orchard with pomegranate fruits , they set for picking those flowers and she raced down that vegetation wearing a white baggy garment , and he ran after her trying to catch, but she was still going astray like a deer, till he reached her approaching her figure with throbbing sizzling heart pathos replete with love morbidity, caressing her to his chest panes and started showering kisses, then he escaped his dreams sighing with intermittent whiffs, slumber had the upper hand to leave him deeply overslept after he closed eyelids.

Written by the literator Eng. Abdulzuhra Emara

Translated by: Mr. Ahmed Farouk Baidoon

الأديب والمترجم المصري

أحمد فاروق بيضون