تويت
في هذا الموضوع المختصر أسلط الضوء على بعض القصائد وأشيد أن تاريخ المسلمين واليهود في قرطبة كان تاريخ مشترك
فكلا من المسلمين واليهود تعرضوا للعدوان الصليبي ؟ وفي نفسي طرح هذا السؤال : لماذا الآن اليهود في موقف مضاد دائم صوب المسلمين ؟
الموضوع باللغة الإنجليزية عدا تراجم للقصائد
يتضمن الطرح
قصيدتين لشاعرين عربيين مسلمين وأخرى لشاعر يهودي
العالم أبو حفص عمر بن حسن الهوزني : يحرض على الجهاد
أعباد حل الرزء والقوم هجع على حالة من مثلها يتوقع
ابن لبانة
سارت سفائنهم والنوح يتبعها كأنها إبل يحدو بها الحادي
كم سال في الماء من دمع وكم حملت تلك القطائع من قطعات أكباد
تبكي السماء بمزن رائح غادي على البهاليل من أبناء عباد
ابن الأبار البلنسي
أُدْرِكْ بِخَيْلِكَ خَيْلِ اللَّهِ أَندِلُسَاً إِنَّ السَّبِيلَ إِلَى مَنْجَاتِها دَرَسَا
يَا لِّلجَزِيرَةِ أَضْحَى أَهْلُها جَزَراً لِلْحَادِثَاتِ وأَمْسَى جَدُّهَا تَعَسَا
في كُلِ شارِقَةٍ إِلْمَامُ بَائِقَةٍ يَعُود مَأْتَمُها عِندَ الْعِدَى عُرُسًا
فَمِنْ دَسَاكِرَ كَانَتْ دُونَهَا حَرَساً ومن كنائس كانت قبلها كنُسا
يَا لِّلْمَسَاجِدِ عَادَتْ للعِدَى بِيَعاً وَلِلنِّداءِ غَدَا أَثْنَاءَهَا جَرَسا
وَابْتَزِ بِزَّتَهَا مِمَّا تَحيَّفَها تحيفَ الأَسَدِ الضَّارِى لِمَا افْتَرَسا
مَحَا مَحَاسِنَها طَاغِ أُتِيحَ لَها مَا نامَ عَنِ هَضْمِهَا حِينَا وَلَا نَعَسَا
وأَكْثَرَ الزَّعْمَ بِالتَّثْلِيثِ مُنْفَرِداً وَلَوْ رَأَى رأيَةَ التَّوحِيدِ مَا نَبَسا
هَذِي وَسَائِلُها تَدْعُوكَ مِنْ كَتَبٍ وَأَنْتَ أَفْضَلُ مَرِجُةٍ لِمَنْ يَئِسا
طَهِّرْ بِلادَكَ مِنْهُم إِنَّهُم نَجَسٌ وَلا طَهَارَةَ مَا لَم تَغْسِلُ النَّجَسَا
فكلا من المسلمين واليهود تعرضوا للعدوان الصليبي ؟ وفي نفسي طرح هذا السؤال : لماذا الآن اليهود في موقف مضاد دائم صوب المسلمين ؟
الموضوع باللغة الإنجليزية عدا تراجم للقصائد
يتضمن الطرح
قصيدتين لشاعرين عربيين مسلمين وأخرى لشاعر يهودي
The Nakba Voices in Muslim and Jewish Lamentation in
Andalusia
المناحة = lamentation
In my womb I made my eyes and molded
myself when I molded a parrot
And I measured the face of the earth with my feet
as if they were two measuring ropes
As mentioned before, the lamentations were characterized by two periods. The first comprises lamentations involving the fall of the capital city of
Cordoba in 1033 to the Murābiṭūn. The poet ‘Abu Hefetz ‘Umar ‘Abu al- Hassan al-'Hawazi (d. 1068) addressed the Bani ‘Abad family with a cry outlining the scenes of the killing and massacres in
Cordoba. There were calls on residents to wake up and get out of their deadly peace with the enemy. The direct reference is expressed in the word of the call that begins with the letter A in Arabic, ‘Abad,' which is one of the characteristics of the outcry and the request for help.
Andalusia
المناحة = lamentation
In my womb I made my eyes and molded
myself when I molded a parrot
And I measured the face of the earth with my feet
as if they were two measuring ropes
As mentioned before, the lamentations were characterized by two periods. The first comprises lamentations involving the fall of the capital city of
Cordoba in 1033 to the Murābiṭūn. The poet ‘Abu Hefetz ‘Umar ‘Abu al- Hassan al-'Hawazi (d. 1068) addressed the Bani ‘Abad family with a cry outlining the scenes of the killing and massacres in
Cordoba. There were calls on residents to wake up and get out of their deadly peace with the enemy. The direct reference is expressed in the word of the call that begins with the letter A in Arabic, ‘Abad,' which is one of the characteristics of the outcry and the request for help.
العالم أبو حفص عمر بن حسن الهوزني : يحرض على الجهاد
أعباد حل الرزء والقوم هجع على حالة من مثلها يتوقع
Oh ‘Abad, The disaster came upon the residents while they were asleep
Who would have expected such a situation
During the Murābiṭūn period, lamentations were written describing the condition of the House of 'Abad after their capitulation and imprisonment. In the following lamentation, written by Ibn al-Lubaneh (d. 1113), the poet expresses the pain and suffering of his exile. He tries to console himself and grieves for the Golden Age in which he lived under the House of Abad. Ibn al-Lubaneh presents a vignette of the sea passage and the exile from the homeland, which are clearly expressed in the following stanza:
Who would have expected such a situation
During the Murābiṭūn period, lamentations were written describing the condition of the House of 'Abad after their capitulation and imprisonment. In the following lamentation, written by Ibn al-Lubaneh (d. 1113), the poet expresses the pain and suffering of his exile. He tries to console himself and grieves for the Golden Age in which he lived under the House of Abad. Ibn al-Lubaneh presents a vignette of the sea passage and the exile from the homeland, which are clearly expressed in the following stanza:
ابن لبانة
سارت سفائنهم والنوح يتبعها كأنها إبل يحدو بها الحادي
كم سال في الماء من دمع وكم حملت تلك القطائع من قطعات أكباد
تبكي السماء بمزن رائح غادي على البهاليل من أبناء عباد
Their ships sailed, with wails in their wake
Like a caravan of camels, driven by the poems of the coming driver
What rivers of tears the waters carried
O how their flocks were carved out [of the land] like pieces of living flesh from a liver!
In the second lamentation, al-Abbār describes the disaster that befell the symbols of Islam. Al-Abbār sent this lamentation to the sultan of
Tunisia to encourage him to act bravely and redeem Andalus. In his accompanying letter, al-Abbar exhorts the sultan to mount his steed and embark on a journey of liberation to the city of
Valencia. This lamentation makes use of vignettes describing the grievous condition of the local Muslims, which is poignantly compared to the city's former glory. The poet's depiction of synagogues and mosques being transformed into churches is a clever use of Islamic (and Jewish) law, according to which such acts of desecration can only be undone by the removal of the impure elements:
Like a caravan of camels, driven by the poems of the coming driver
What rivers of tears the waters carried
O how their flocks were carved out [of the land] like pieces of living flesh from a liver!
In the second lamentation, al-Abbār describes the disaster that befell the symbols of Islam. Al-Abbār sent this lamentation to the sultan of
Tunisia to encourage him to act bravely and redeem Andalus. In his accompanying letter, al-Abbar exhorts the sultan to mount his steed and embark on a journey of liberation to the city of
Valencia. This lamentation makes use of vignettes describing the grievous condition of the local Muslims, which is poignantly compared to the city's former glory. The poet's depiction of synagogues and mosques being transformed into churches is a clever use of Islamic (and Jewish) law, according to which such acts of desecration can only be undone by the removal of the impure elements:
ابن الأبار البلنسي
أُدْرِكْ بِخَيْلِكَ خَيْلِ اللَّهِ أَندِلُسَاً إِنَّ السَّبِيلَ إِلَى مَنْجَاتِها دَرَسَا
يَا لِّلجَزِيرَةِ أَضْحَى أَهْلُها جَزَراً لِلْحَادِثَاتِ وأَمْسَى جَدُّهَا تَعَسَا
في كُلِ شارِقَةٍ إِلْمَامُ بَائِقَةٍ يَعُود مَأْتَمُها عِندَ الْعِدَى عُرُسًا
فَمِنْ دَسَاكِرَ كَانَتْ دُونَهَا حَرَساً ومن كنائس كانت قبلها كنُسا
يَا لِّلْمَسَاجِدِ عَادَتْ للعِدَى بِيَعاً وَلِلنِّداءِ غَدَا أَثْنَاءَهَا جَرَسا
وَابْتَزِ بِزَّتَهَا مِمَّا تَحيَّفَها تحيفَ الأَسَدِ الضَّارِى لِمَا افْتَرَسا
مَحَا مَحَاسِنَها طَاغِ أُتِيحَ لَها مَا نامَ عَنِ هَضْمِهَا حِينَا وَلَا نَعَسَا
وأَكْثَرَ الزَّعْمَ بِالتَّثْلِيثِ مُنْفَرِداً وَلَوْ رَأَى رأيَةَ التَّوحِيدِ مَا نَبَسا
هَذِي وَسَائِلُها تَدْعُوكَ مِنْ كَتَبٍ وَأَنْتَ أَفْضَلُ مَرِجُةٍ لِمَنْ يَئِسا
طَهِّرْ بِلادَكَ مِنْهُم إِنَّهُم نَجَسٌ وَلا طَهَارَةَ مَا لَم تَغْسِلُ النَّجَسَا
Mount your horses, the steeds of God, and ride to Andalus
The road to its redemption is desolate
Woe for al-Gazīrah [
Andalusia] and its slaughtered residents
The catastrophes made her grandfather sad
Its East has been struck by woe
And its death and bereavement have become weddings for the enemy
The palaces surrounded by entertainment centers were left without guard
And the synagogues became churches
Woe for the mosques, which the enemy converted into churches
And for the call to prayer, replaced by the sound of the bell
Pitilessly, he exploited her clothes
Like a ravenous lion, hunting
Her beauty was erased by a heretic who ruled her
Who stayed awake until he had consumed her
He often swore by the trinity
And when he saw the flag of monotheism, he fell utterly silent
For she calls you to her
And you are the one most hoped for in the hour of despair
Cleanse your land of them, for they have defiled it
There can be no purity without having washed away what is impure
lament for Andalusian Jewry
Jewish poet Abraham Ibn Ezra
Calamity came upon
Spain from the skies,
and my eyes pour forth their streams of tears
I moan like an owl for the town of
Lucena,
where Exile dwelled, guiltless and strong,
for a thousand and seventy years unchanged—
until the day that she was expelled,
leaving her like a widow, forlorn,
deprived of the Scriptures and books of the Law.
As the house of prayer took folly in,
some men murdered and others sought shelter.
For this I weep and, mourning, wail:
If only my head were a fountain of water,
I shave my head and bitterly keen
for
Seville’s martyrs and sons who were taken,
as daughters were forced into strangeness of faith.
Córdoba's ruined, like the desolate sea
its nobles and sages have perished in hunger.
There are no Jews left in Jaén,
Majorca,
Malaga, and Almería;
all traces of life are gone -
and those who survived were beaten down.
For this I wail in my grief and mourn-
for they have melted away like water.
For Sijilmása I groan in distress
city of sages whose light barred darkness—
its pillar of Talmud was toppled and broken;
its Mishnah was trampled, cursed, and crushed
The upright were slaughtered and no one was spared
Fez was razed and its brethren butchered.
Telmesen's splendor shines no more.
For Meknes and
Ceuta my cry is bitter.
For Der'a I put on sackcloth and mourn:
their blood, on the Sabbath, was spilled like water.
What could I hope for or possibly say
when this is the work of my own hand?
From God this calamity has come upon me,
and now within me my heart's aflame
for my soul which has strayed from longed-for lands
and silently grieves in her trouble and shame
She hopes for mercy from her rock and strength,
for refuge beneath His wing's shadow.
Whenever she thinks of His name she revives,
though she'll face the hail of her handmaiden's arrows –
till the Lord with compassion looks down from the skies.
The road to its redemption is desolate
Woe for al-Gazīrah [
Andalusia] and its slaughtered residents
The catastrophes made her grandfather sad
Its East has been struck by woe
And its death and bereavement have become weddings for the enemy
The palaces surrounded by entertainment centers were left without guard
And the synagogues became churches
Woe for the mosques, which the enemy converted into churches
And for the call to prayer, replaced by the sound of the bell
Pitilessly, he exploited her clothes
Like a ravenous lion, hunting
Her beauty was erased by a heretic who ruled her
Who stayed awake until he had consumed her
He often swore by the trinity
And when he saw the flag of monotheism, he fell utterly silent
For she calls you to her
And you are the one most hoped for in the hour of despair
Cleanse your land of them, for they have defiled it
There can be no purity without having washed away what is impure
lament for Andalusian Jewry
Jewish poet Abraham Ibn Ezra
Calamity came upon
Spain from the skies,
and my eyes pour forth their streams of tears
I moan like an owl for the town of
Lucena,
where Exile dwelled, guiltless and strong,
for a thousand and seventy years unchanged—
until the day that she was expelled,
leaving her like a widow, forlorn,
deprived of the Scriptures and books of the Law.
As the house of prayer took folly in,
some men murdered and others sought shelter.
For this I weep and, mourning, wail:
If only my head were a fountain of water,
I shave my head and bitterly keen
for
Seville’s martyrs and sons who were taken,
as daughters were forced into strangeness of faith.
Córdoba's ruined, like the desolate sea
its nobles and sages have perished in hunger.
There are no Jews left in Jaén,
Majorca,
Malaga, and Almería;
all traces of life are gone -
and those who survived were beaten down.
For this I wail in my grief and mourn-
for they have melted away like water.
For Sijilmása I groan in distress
city of sages whose light barred darkness—
its pillar of Talmud was toppled and broken;
its Mishnah was trampled, cursed, and crushed
The upright were slaughtered and no one was spared
Fez was razed and its brethren butchered.
Telmesen's splendor shines no more.
For Meknes and
Ceuta my cry is bitter.
For Der'a I put on sackcloth and mourn:
their blood, on the Sabbath, was spilled like water.
What could I hope for or possibly say
when this is the work of my own hand?
From God this calamity has come upon me,
and now within me my heart's aflame
for my soul which has strayed from longed-for lands
and silently grieves in her trouble and shame
She hopes for mercy from her rock and strength,
for refuge beneath His wing's shadow.
Whenever she thinks of His name she revives,
though she'll face the hail of her handmaiden's arrows –
till the Lord with compassion looks down from the skies.
تعليق