ا لـحـــب - لـلــشــــاعــر الإنـجــلـيـزى : جــون كـلار - تـرجـمـة : إ دوارد فـرنـســيـس
John Clare
Love lives beyond
Clare, John, 1793–1864, English poet. A romantic poet who wrote shortly after the vogue for such verse, he had a profound and singular gift for capturing nature in exquisitely specific detail. The son of a farm laborer, Clare was dubbed “the peasant poet.” He was probably the poorest major writer in English literature, and was sometimes reduced to writing on bark or making his own paper and ink. His Poems Descriptive of Rural Life and Scenery (1820) brought him a short period of fame and briefly improved his finances. Subsequent volumes included The Village Minstrel (1821) and Rural Muse (1835). Throughout his life Clare suffered fits of melancholy, which were intensified by financial difficulties and bad health. In 1837 he was declared insane and committed to an asylum. During his first years there he wrote some of his most original and visionary poems. He was institutionalized for his last 26 years. Clare's work has influenced several contemporary poets, most notably John Ashbery.
Love lives beyond
The tomb, the earth, which fades like dew-
I love the fond,
The faithful and the true.
ا لـحــب يـمـتــد فـيـمــا وراء الـقـبــور
و تـحــت الأرض الـتـى تـتـلاشــى مـثـل ا لنـدى !
أنــا أحـــب ا لـحــنـان ،
و الإخــلاص ، و ا لـحــقــيــقـــة .
Love lies in sleep,
The happiness of healthy dreams,
Eve's dews may weep,
But love delightful seems.
ا لـحــب يَــخــلُـدُ فـى ا لــرقـــادِ
و الـســعــادة تـحــيــا فـى الأحــلام ا لـخــصــبـة ،
و قطرات ا لنـدى تـئـن فـى الـمـســـاء ،
أمــا ا لـحــب يـبــد و مـتــوهـجــاً فـى بـهــجــة .
'Tis seen in flowers,
And in the even's pearly dew
On earth's green hours,
And in the heaven's eternal blue.
ا لــحــب يُــرَى وســـط ا لــزهــور ،
و يـتــلأ لأ وســـط حـبـيـبــات ا لــنــدى
بـإ ســتـمـرار عـلــى ا لـمــروج ا لـخـضـــراء ،
و فــى ا لـســمــاء دائــمـة ا لـزرقــة .
'Tis heard in spring
When light and sunbeams, warm and kind,
On angels wing
Bring love and music to the wind.
ا لــحــب يُـســــمـع فــى حــفـيــف ا لــربــيــع ،
إذا مـا صـار الضــوء حـنــونـاً ، و أ شــعـة ا لشـمـس دافـئـة
عـلـى أجـنـحـــة ا لـمــلا ئـكــة
ا لـتـى تـجــلــب ا لـعــشـــق و ا لـمــو ســيـقـى لـلـريـاح .
And where is voice
So young, so beautiful, so sweet
As nature's choice,
Where spring and lovers meet?
أ يـن ا لـصــوت ا لـمـمــلـوء حــيــويــة ،
و عــذ وبــة و جــمــالاً
كـإ خـتـيـا را ت ا لـطــبـيــعـــة ،
أ يـن يـلـتقــى ا لـر بــيـــع بـا لـعــشـــاق ؟
Love lies beyond
The tomb, the earth, the flowers, and dew.
I love the fond,
The faithful, young, and true.
ا لـحــب يـمـتــد فـيـمــا وراء الـقـبــور ، و تـحـــت ا لأرض
و بـيــن ا لــنــدى .... و ســـــــط ا لــزهـــــور .
أ نـــا أ حــــب ا لــحــنـان ، و الـشـــباب ،
و ا لإخــلا ص و ا لـــحــقــيــقــــة .
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BA in English Language + Diploma in Translation
Dreams pass into the reality of action. From the actions stems the dream again; and this interdependence produces the highest form of living
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