نَسّاجُ السَّجّادِ في تَبْريز

The Carpet Weaver of Tabriz

الفصل الأول: وَرْشَةُ النَّسيج

Chapter One: The Weaving Workshop

في تَبْريزَ الصَّفَوِيَّةِ، حَيْثُ يُنْسَجُ أَجْمَلُ سَجّادِ العالَمِ، كانَتْ وَرْشَةُ كَريمٍ الأَشْهَرَ. أَصابِعُهُ تَحْتَوي عَلى سِحْرٍ، تُحَوِّلُ الخُيوطَ إلى حَدائِقَ وَقُصورٍ.

In Safavid Tabriz, where the world's finest carpets were woven, Karim's workshop was the most famous. His fingers contained magic, transforming threads into gardens and palaces.

كانَ في الثّالِثَةِ وَالأَرْبَعينَ، رَجُلاً صَبوراً هادِئاً، عَيْناهُ تَرَيانِ الأَنْماطَ في كُلِّ شَيْءٍ. جَسَدُهُ نَحيفٌ لكِنَّهُ قَوِيٌّ مِنْ سَنَواتِ العَمَلِ.

He was forty-three, a patient, calm man, his eyes seeing patterns in everything. His body thin but strong from years of work.

ذاتَ يَوْمٍ، جاءَتِ امْرَأَةٌ لِتَطْلُبَ سَجّادَةً خاصَّةً. كانَتْ شيرينَ، زَوْجَةَ تاجِرٍ ثَرِيٍّ كَثيرِ السَّفَرِ.

One day, a woman came to order a special carpet. She was Shirin, wife of a wealthy merchant who traveled often.

"أُريدُ سَجّادَةً تَحْكي قِصَّةَ حَياتي،" قالَتْ.

"I want a carpet that tells my life's story," she said.

الفصل الثاني: القِصَّةُ المَنْسوجَة

Chapter Two: The Woven Story

كانَتْ شيرينُ في الثّالِثَةِ وَالثَّلاثينَ، امْرَأَةً فارِسِيَّةً جَميلَةً، بِشَعْرٍ أَسْوَدَ كَثيفٍ وَعَيْنَيْنِ خَضْراوَيْنِ نادِرَتَيْنِ. جَسَدُها مُمْتَلِئٌ بِالطَّريقَةِ التي يُحِبُّها الفَنّانونَ.

Shirin was thirty-three, a beautiful Persian woman with thick black hair and rare green eyes. Her body full in the way artists loved.

"لِكَيْ أَنْسُجَ قِصَّتَكِ،" قالَ كَريمٌ، "أَحْتاجُ أَنْ أَعْرِفَها."

"To weave your story," Karim said, "I need to know it."

"ماذا تُريدُ أَنْ تَعْرِفَ؟"

"What do you want to know?"

"كُلَّ شَيْءٍ. أَحْلامَكِ، مَخاوِفَكِ، رَغَباتِكِ."

"Everything. Your dreams, your fears, your desires."

احْمَرَّ وَجْهُها. "رَغَباتي؟"

Her face reddened. "My desires?"

"السَّجّادَةُ تَعْكِسُ الرّوحَ. إذا أَخْفَيْتِ شَيْئاً، سَتَكونُ السَّجّادَةُ ناقِصَةً."

"A carpet reflects the soul. If you hide something, the carpet will be incomplete."

الفصل الثالث: جَلَساتُ الاعْتِراف

Chapter Three: Confession Sessions

عادَتْ شيرينُ كُلَّ يَوْمٍ. كانا يَجْلِسانِ بَيْنَ الخُيوطِ المُلَوَّنَةِ، وَهِيَ تَحْكي لَهُ عَنْ حَياتِها.

Shirin returned every day. They would sit among the colored threads, and she would tell him about her life.

"زَوْجي رَجُلٌ طَيِّبٌ،" قالَتْ ذاتَ يَوْمٍ. "لكِنَّهُ بَعيدٌ دائِماً. جَسَدِيّاً وَعاطِفِيّاً."

"My husband is a good man," she said one day. "But he is always distant. Physically and emotionally."

"وَهذا يُؤْلِمُكِ؟"

"And this hurts you?"

"نَعَمْ. أَشْعُرُ أَنَّني زَهْرَةٌ في حَديقَةٍ مَهْجورَةٍ. جَميلَةٌ لكِنْ لا أَحَدَ يَراها."

"Yes. I feel like a flower in an abandoned garden. Beautiful but no one sees it."

"أَنا أَراكِ."

"I see you."

نَظَرَتْ إلَيْهِ. "وَماذا تَرى؟"

She looked at him. "And what do you see?"

"أَرى امْرَأَةً تَسْتَحِقُّ أَنْ تُعْبَدَ، لا أَنْ تُهْمَلَ."

"I see a woman who deserves to be worshipped, not neglected."

الفصل الرابع: الخُيوطُ المُتَشابِكَة

Chapter Four: Intertwined Threads

في أَحَدِ الأَيّامِ، طَلَبَ مِنْها أَنْ تُساعِدَهُ في النَّسيجِ. وَقَفَتْ خَلْفَهُ وَهُوَ يُوَجِّهُ يَدَيْها.

One day, he asked her to help him weave. She stood behind him as he guided her hands.

"هكَذا،" قالَ، أَصابِعُهُ فَوْقَ أَصابِعِها. "بِرِفْقٍ وَثَباتٍ."

"Like this," he said, his fingers over hers. "Gently and steadily."

شَعَرَتْ بِحَرارَةِ جَسَدِهِ خَلْفَها. أَنْفاسُهُ عَلى عُنُقِها.

She felt the heat of his body behind her. His breath on her neck.

"كَريمٌ..." هَمَسَتْ.

"Karim..." she whispered.

"نَعَمْ؟"

"Yes?"

اسْتَدارَتْ وَواجَهَتْهُ. وُجوهُهُما قَريبَةٌ جِدّاً.

She turned and faced him. Their faces very close.

"انْسُجْني في سَجّادَتِكَ."

"Weave me into your carpet."

الفصل الخامس: فَنُّ التَّشْكيل

Chapter Five: The Art of Shaping

قَبَّلَها بِرِفْقِ فَنّانٍ يَلْمَسُ أَجْمَلَ خُيوطِهِ. شَفَتاهُ ناعِمَتانِ لكِنَّهُما ماهِرَتانِ.

He kissed her with the gentleness of an artist touching his finest threads. His lips soft but skilled.

أَزالَ ثِيابَها بِبُطْءٍ، كَأَنَّهُ يَكْشِفُ عَنْ تُحْفَةٍ فَنِّيَّةٍ. جَسَدُها المُمْتَلِئُ ظَهَرَ في ضَوْءِ الوَرْشَةِ. نَهْداها كَبيرانِ مُسْتَديرانِ، حَلَماتُهُما وَرْدِيَّتانِ داكِنَتانِ. بَطْنُها ناعِمَةٌ مُنْحَنِيَةٌ كَخَطٍّ في نَقْشٍ فارِسِيٍّ، وَوِرْكاها عَريضَتانِ مُغْرِيَتانِ.

He removed her clothes slowly, as if unveiling a work of art. Her full body appeared in the workshop's light. Her breasts large and round, their nipples dark pink. Her belly soft and curved like a line in a Persian design, her hips wide and enticing.

"جَسَدُكِ أَجْمَلُ مِنْ أَيِّ سَجّادَةٍ نَسَجْتُها،" قالَ.

"Your body is more beautiful than any carpet I have woven," he said.

أَجْلَسَها عَلى كَوْمَةٍ مِنَ السَّجّادِ الناعِمِ وَرَكَعَ أَمامَها.

He sat her on a pile of soft carpets and knelt before her.

الفصل السادس: النَّقْشُ الخَفِيّ

Chapter Six: The Hidden Pattern

فَتَحَ فَخِذَيْها وَنَظَرَ إلى زَهْرَتِها كَما يَنْظُرُ إلى نَقْشٍ مُعَقَّدٍ.

He opened her thighs and looked at her flower as he looks at an intricate pattern.

"كُلُّ جُزْءٍ فيكِ لَهُ جَمالُهُ،" هَمَسَ، ثُمَّ بَدَأَ يَلْعَقُها.

"Every part of you has its beauty," he whispered, then began to lick her.

لِسانُهُ يَتَحَرَّكُ بِدِقَّةِ أَصابِعِهِ عَلى النَّوْلِ. يَرْسُمُ أَنْماطاً عَلى بُرْعُمِها، دَوائِرَ وَخُطوطاً وَمُنْحَنَياتٍ.

His tongue moved with the precision of his fingers on the loom. He drew patterns on her bud, circles and lines and curves.

"يا إلهي!" صَرَخَتْ. "لا تَتَوَقَّفْ!"

"My God!" she cried. "Don't stop!"

اسْتَمَرَّ حَتّى وَصَلَتْ إلى ذُرْوَتِها، جَسَدُها يَرْتَجِفُ كَخَيْطٍ مَشْدودٍ فُكَّ قَيْدُهُ.

He continued until she reached her peak, her body trembling like a taut thread released from its bonds.

الفصل السابع: نَسيجُ الجَسَدَيْن

Chapter Seven: Weaving of Bodies

قامَ وَخَلَعَ ثِيابَهُ. جَسَدُهُ النَّحيفُ القَوِيُّ، ذَكَرُهُ مُنْتَصِبٌ.

He rose and removed his clothes. His thin, strong body, his member erect.

"اسْتَلْقي عَلى السَّجّادِ،" أَمَرَها بِرِفْقٍ.

"Lie on the carpets," he gently commanded.

أَطاعَتْ. اسْتَلْقَتْ عَلى السَّجّادِ الحَريرِيِّ، جَسَدُها الأَبْيَضُ المُمْتَلِئُ يَتَباهى بِجَمالِهِ.

She obeyed. She lay on the silk carpets, her white, full body flaunting its beauty.

دَخَلَها بِبُطْءٍ كَما يَدْخُلُ الخَيْطُ في النَّسيجِ. شَعَرَتْ بِهِ يَمْلَأُها تَدْريجِيّاً.

He entered her slowly as thread enters a weave. She felt him filling her gradually.

"أَنْتِ دافِئَةٌ كَالحَريرِ،" أَنَّ.

"You are warm as silk," he moaned.

بَدَأَ يَتَحَرَّكُ بِإيقاعٍ ثابِتٍ كَإيقاعِ النَّوْلِ. فَوْقَ وَتَحْتَ، فَوْقَ وَتَحْتَ، يَنْسُجُ المُتْعَةَ بَيْنَهُما.

He began to move in a steady rhythm like the loom's rhythm. Up and down, up and down, weaving pleasure between them.

الفصل الثامن: التُّحْفَةُ المُكْتَمِلَة

Chapter Eight: The Completed Masterpiece

زادَ سُرْعَتَهُ. نَهْداها الكَبيرانِ يَهْتَزّانِ، وَهِيَ تَلُفُّ ساقَيْها المُمْتَلِئَتَيْنِ حَوْلَ خَصْرِهِ.

He increased his speed. Her large breasts swayed, as she wrapped her full legs around his waist.

"أَنا قَريبَةٌ!" صَرَخَتْ.

"I am close!" she cried.

"وَأَنا أَيْضاً!"

"And I as well!"

بِدَفَعاتٍ قَوِيَّةٍ أَخيرَةٍ، وَصَلا مَعاً. صَرَخَ كَريمٌ وَأَفْرَغَ نَفْسَهُ داخِلَها، وَصَرَخَتْ هِيَ صَرْخَةً طَويلَةً.

With final powerful thrusts, they arrived together. Karim cried out and emptied himself inside her, and she let out a long cry.

اسْتَلْقَيا مُتَشابِكَيْنِ عَلى السَّجّادِ، أَنْفاسُهُما تَخْتَلِطُ.

They lay intertwined on the carpets, their breaths mixing.

الخاتِمَة

Epilogue

أَكْمَلَ كَريمٌ السَّجّادَةَ بَعْدَ سِتَّةِ أَشْهُرٍ. كانَتْ تَحْكي قِصَّةَ حُبٍّ سِرِّيٍّ، لِمَنْ يَعْرِفُ كَيْفَ يَقْرَأُ الرُّموزَ.

Karim completed the carpet after six months. It told the story of a secret love, for those who knew how to read the symbols.

وَشيرينُ عَلَّقَتْها في غُرْفَةِ نَوْمِها. كانَتْ تَنْظُرُ إلَيْها كُلَّ لَيْلَةٍ وَتَتَذَكَّرُ النَّسّاجَ الذي عَلَّمَها أَنَّ الفَنَّ لَيْسَ في الخُيوطِ فَحَسْبُ.

And Shirin hung it in her bedroom. She would look at it every night and remember the weaver who taught her that art is not just in threads.

انْتَهَتِ القِصَّة | The End