1 – المائدَة
لَم يَكونوا في عُيونِهم عندما وصَلْنا، رُبّما غادروها إلى جِهاتٍ يُسمّونها القُمصان، فَقدْ وجدْنا اِبتساماً ما زال ساخناً على الطاولةِ يَحْكي أنّ ثمّةَ مَن أغْراهُم بِالعُثورِ على ظِلالهم كاملةً لَم يَمسّها كَدرٌ وصدّقوه، مَنْ سَوّلَ لهم أنّ الأطباقَ سُرعانَ ما تَتبعُ الذين يُرَبُّونها، أنّ ثمّة مَن غَرّرَ بِهم، زيّن لهم ضَجيجَ الخُطى المُبتعدةِ، ثمة مَن عَرَضَ عليهم الرّيشَ واتّبَعوه، لَم يَعْنِهم أنْ يَتَبيّنوا أولئكَ الذين خرجوا مِن عُيونِهم وأذْرُعِهم ومِن بَشَراتِهم وتَركُوها عُرْضةً لِلّيلِ ولِأغْطيَةِ الطاولاتِ عُرضةً لِلجْدْرانِ والرّفُوفِ والكتبِ، تركوها لِلضوءِ كأنها لَيستْ لَهُم، لِلَفْحِ تَهوُّرِهم وشُحِّ تَبصُّرِهم، ولِما ليسَ أبداً مِنهُم، تركوها وراءَهم وحْدَها ووَحْدها مَفتوحةً في صُورةٍ.
2 – وُقوفاً بِالطاولةِ
غابَ عنهم أنّ رِيشَ الطاولةِ كثيفٌ، ظَنّوا الفناجينَ حرّاساً وأنّ عيونَها لن تَغفلَ، كانوا يُعوِّلُونَ كثيراً على فِطنةِ عُلبِ التّبغِ، هُم الذين يَحفظون عن ظهْرِ قلبٍ ثيابَهم، كانوا يَثِقون بِحوافِّ الخشبِ فيترُكون أَيدٍيهم أمانةً عندها، يَتركون نظراتِهم أبعدَ قليلاً، كأنهم كانوا يُدرِكون بِفِعلهم ذاكَ، أنّ وُجوهَهم التي سَقوها ثِقةً زائدةً أنّ وجوههم رَبّوها على البلاغةِ وسَيَّجوها بِالإيقاعِ سَتُسرقُ وأنهم عندما يَعودون مِن زجاجِ المنافضِ ويتركونها وَراءَهم لن يَجدوا لها أثراً؛
إِلى اليومِ هُم لا يُصدِّقونَ أنّ أذرعاً وأكتافاً وتوجُّساتٍ تُركت قائمةً هكذا في وحْشةٍ وأُلقيَ بِها في حَنينٍ وألوانٍ وضَوءٍ خافتٍ وظِلالٍ كامدةٍ يَجْرحُها بِشِدَّةٍ إِطارٌ.
1 – The Table
They were not in their eyes when we arrived; perhaps they had left it for places they call shirts. We found a smile still warm on the table, telling that there were those who had tempted them to find their shadows intact, untouched by gloom, and they believed him. Who had persuaded them that the dishes would soon follow those who nurture them? There was someone who had deceived them, adorned the noise of the departing footsteps for them. There were those who offered them feathers and followed them. They did not care to discern those who had left from their eyes, their arms, and their skins, leaving it exposed to the night and to the tablecloths, exposed to the walls, shelves, and books. They left it to the light as if it did not belong to them, to the scorching recklessness of their folly and the meagerness of their insight, and to what was never part of them. They left it behind, alone and alone, open in an image.
2 – Standing at the Table
They were unaware that the table’s feathers are thick; they thought the cups were guardians and that their eyes would not blink. They relied heavily on the cunning of the tobacco boxes; they are the ones who keep their clothes by heart. They trusted the edges of the wood, leaving their hands as a trust with it, leaving their gazes a little further away, as if they were realizing by that action that the faces they had nurtured with excessive trust, that they had raised their faces on eloquence and adorned them with rhythm, would be stolen, and that when they return from the glass ashtrays and leave them behind, they would find no trace of them;
To this day, they do not believe that arms, shoulders, and apprehensions were left standing like this in solitude and thrown into nostalgia, with colors and dim light, and stagnant shadows that are harshly wounded by a frame.
