شاعِرُ قُرْطُبَة

The Poet of Cordoba

الفصل الأول: قَصْرُ الزَّهْراء

Chapter One: The Palace of al-Zahra

في عَهْدِ الخَليفَةِ عَبْدِ الرَّحْمَنِ الثّالِثِ، كانَتْ قُرْطُبَةُ أَجْمَلَ مُدُنِ العالَمِ. وَفي قَصْرِ الزَّهْراءِ، كانَ يَعيشُ يوسُفُ بنُ أَحْمَدَ، أَشْهَرُ شُعَراءِ الأَنْدَلُسِ.

In the reign of Caliph Abd al-Rahman III, Cordoba was the most beautiful city in the world. And in the Palace of al-Zahra lived Yusuf ibn Ahmad, the most famous poet of Andalusia.

كانَ يوسُفُ في الثَّلاثينَ مِنْ عُمْرِهِ، رَجُلاً وَسيماً ذا شَعْرٍ أَسْوَدَ مُجَعَّدٍ وَعَيْنَيْنِ بُنِّيَّتَيْنِ عَميقَتَيْنِ. كانَ مَشْهوراً بِقَصائِدِهِ في الغَزَلِ التي أَسَرَتْ قُلوبَ النِّساءِ في كُلِّ الأَنْدَلُسِ.

Yusuf was in his thirties, a handsome man with curly black hair and deep brown eyes. He was famous for his love poems that had captured the hearts of women throughout Andalusia.

لكِنَّ قَلْبَهُ هُوَ بَقِيَ فارِغاً.

But his own heart remained empty.

الفصل الثاني: صَوْتُ الجَنَّة

Chapter Two: The Voice of Paradise

في إحْدى لَيالي الصَّيْفِ، أَقامَ الخَليفَةُ حَفْلَةً في حَدائِقِ القَصْرِ. وَبَيْنَما كانَ يوسُفُ يَشْرَبُ النَّبيذَ وَيَتَحَدَّثُ مَعَ الشُّعَراءِ، سَمِعَ صَوْتاً جَعَلَهُ يَتَوَقَّفُ عَنِ التَّنَفُّسِ.

On one summer night, the Caliph held a celebration in the palace gardens. While Yusuf was drinking wine and conversing with poets, he heard a voice that made him stop breathing.

كانَ صَوْتاً أُنْثَوِيّاً عَميقاً، يُغَنّي مَوْشَحَةً أَنْدَلُسِيَّةً قَديمَةً. نَظَرَ فَرَأى المُغَنِّيَةَ.

It was a deep feminine voice, singing an ancient Andalusian muwashshah. He looked and saw the singer.

كانَتِ امْرَأَةً في العِشرينَ مِنْ عُمْرِها، ذاتَ جَسَدٍ مُمْتَلِئٍ أَخّاذٍ. بَشَرَتُها كانَتْ داكِنَةً كَالعَسَلِ المُحَمَّصِ، وَشَعْرُها أَسْوَدُ مُجَعَّدٌ يَنْسابُ عَلى كَتِفَيْها العَريضَتَيْنِ. ثَدْياها كَبيرانِ يَرْتَفِعانِ وَيَنْخَفِضانِ مَعَ أَنْفاسِها وَهِيَ تُغَنّي.

She was a woman in her twenties, with a captivating full body. Her skin was dark like toasted honey, and her black curly hair flowed over her broad shoulders. Her large breasts rose and fell with her breath as she sang.

"مَنْ هذِهِ؟" سَأَلَ يوسُفُ الرَّجُلَ بِجانِبِهِ.

"Who is this?" Yusuf asked the man beside him.

"زُهَيْرَةُ. جارِيَةُ الخَليفَةِ الجَديدَةُ. جاءَتْ مِنْ إفْريقِيَّةَ."

"Zuhaira. The Caliph's new slave girl. She came from Ifriqiya."

"جارِيَةُ الخَليفَةِ..." كَرَّرَ يوسُفُ، وَقَلْبُهُ يَغْرَقُ. مَمْنوعَةٌ.

"The Caliph's slave girl..." Yusuf repeated, his heart sinking. Forbidden.

الفصل الثالث: القَصيدَة

Chapter Three: The Poem

في تِلْكَ اللَّيْلَةِ، لَمْ يَنَمْ يوسُفُ. كَتَبَ قَصيدَةً طَويلَةً يَصِفُ فيها زُهَيْرَةَ.

That night, Yusuf did not sleep. He wrote a long poem describing Zuhaira.

"رَأَيْتُ قَمَراً في حَدائِقِ الزَّهْراءِ بَشَرَتُهُ مِنْ ذَهَبِ الأَرْضِ مَصْنوعَة وَجَسَدُهُ تِلالٌ وَوِديانٌ مِنَ النَّعيمِ وَصَوْتُهُ يَفْتَحُ أَبْوابَ الجَنَّةِ المَمْنوعَة"

"I saw a moon in the gardens of al-Zahra Her skin fashioned from the gold of the earth Her body hills and valleys of bliss Her voice opens the gates of forbidden paradise"

في الصَّباحِ، وَصَلَتِ القَصيدَةُ إلى زُهَيْرَةَ. قَرَأَتْها وَابْتَسَمَتْ.

In the morning, the poem reached Zuhaira. She read it and smiled.

الفصل الرابع: الرِّسالَة

Chapter Four: The Message

بَعْدَ أُسْبوعٍ، تَلَقّى يوسُفُ رِسالَةً صَغيرَةً مِنْ خادِمَةٍ.

After a week, Yusuf received a small message from a servant.

"الحَديقَةُ الغَرْبِيَّةُ. مُنْتَصَفُ اللَّيْلِ. وَحْدَكَ."

"The western garden. Midnight. Alone."

كانَ يَعْرِفُ أَنَّ هذا جُنونٌ. لَوْ عَرَفَ الخَليفَةُ، لَقَطَعَ رَأْسَهُ. لكِنَّهُ ذَهَبَ.

He knew this was madness. If the Caliph found out, he would cut off his head. But he went.

وَجَدَها تَنْتَظِرُهُ تَحْتَ شَجَرَةِ لَيْمونٍ، قَمَرُ الأَنْدَلُسِ يُضيءُ جَسَدَها.

He found her waiting for him under a lemon tree, the Andalusian moon illuminating her body.

"قَصيدَتُكَ أَجْمَلُ ما سَمِعْتُ،" قالَتْ بِصَوْتِها العَميقِ.

"Your poem is the most beautiful thing I have heard," she said with her deep voice.

"وَصَوْتُكِ أَجْمَلُ ما سَمِعْتُ أَنا."

"And your voice is the most beautiful thing I have heard."

اقْتَرَبَتْ مِنْهُ. "أَتَعْرِفُ أَنَّنا نُخاطِرُ بِحَياتِنا؟"

She approached him. "Do you know we are risking our lives?"

"أَعْرِفُ. لكِنَّ الحَياةَ بِدونِكِ لَيْسَتْ حَياةً."

"I know. But life without you is not life."

الفصل الخامس: تَحْتَ شَجَرَةِ اللَّيْمون

Chapter Five: Under the Lemon Tree

قَبَّلَها. كانَتْ شَفَتاها حُلْوَتَيْنِ كَالعَسَلِ وَدافِئَتَيْنِ كَشَمْسِ الأَنْدَلُسِ.

He kissed her. Her lips were sweet as honey and warm as the Andalusian sun.

"أُريدُكَ،" هَمَسَتْ.

"I want you," she whispered.

فَتَحَتْ ثَوْبَها وَكَشَفَتْ جَسَدَها المُمْتَلِئَ. كانَ جَسَداً إفْريقِيّاً مُذْهِلاً. صَدْرُها كَبيرٌ مُسْتَديرٌ بِحَلَماتٍ داكِنَةٍ. بَطْنُها ناعِمَةٌ مُنْحَنِيَةٌ. وِرْكاها عَريضَتانِ. فَخِذاها سَمينَتانِ.

She opened her dress and revealed her full body. It was an astonishing African body. Her chest was large and round with dark nipples. Her belly was soft and curved. Her hips were wide. Her thighs were plump.

"يا إلهي،" تَنَهَّدَ يوسُفُ. "أَنْتِ أَجْمَلُ مِمّا كَتَبْتُ."

"My God," Yusuf sighed. "You are more beautiful than what I wrote."

جَثا عَلى رُكْبَتَيْهِ وَقَبَّلَ بَطْنَها المُسْتَديرَةَ. "كُلُّ انْحِناءَةٍ في جَسَدِكِ قَصيدَةٌ."

He knelt and kissed her round belly. "Every curve in your body is a poem."

أَمْسَكَتْ رَأْسَهُ وَوَجَّهَتْهُ إلى صَدْرِها الكَبيرِ. أَخَذَ حَلَمَتَها في فَمِهِ وَرَضَعَها كَطِفْلٍ جائِعٍ.

She held his head and directed it to her large breast. He took her nipple in his mouth and suckled it like a hungry child.

"آهٍ!" أَنَّتْ بِصَوْتِها المُوسيقِيِّ.

"Ah!" she moaned with her musical voice.

الفصل السادس: الاتِّحادُ المَمْنوع

Chapter Six: The Forbidden Union

أَلْقاها عَلى العُشْبِ النّاعِمِ تَحْتَ شَجَرَةِ اللَّيْمونِ وَخَلَعَ ثِيابَهُ.

He laid her on the soft grass under the lemon tree and removed his clothes.

"خُذْني،" أَمَرَتْهُ. "خُذْني قَبْلَ أَنْ يَجِدَنا أَحَدٌ."

"Take me," she commanded him. "Take me before someone finds us."

فَتَحَتْ ساقَيْها المُمْتَلِئَتَيْنِ وَاسْتَقْبَلَتْهُ. دَخَلَها بِحَماسٍ جامِحٍ.

She opened her full legs and received him. He entered her with wild passion.

"أَنْتِ جَنَّتي المَمْنوعَةُ،" أَنَّ وَهُوَ يَتَحَرَّكُ داخِلَها.

"You are my forbidden paradise," he moaned as he moved inside her.

لَفَّتْ ساقَيْها حَوْلَ ظَهْرِهِ وَجَذَبَتْهُ أَقْرَبَ. "أَعْمَقُ، يا شاعِري. اكْتُبْني بِجَسَدِكَ."

She wrapped her legs around his back and pulled him closer. "Deeper, my poet. Write me with your body."

كانَ جَسَدُها المُمْتَلِئُ يَرْتَجِفُ تَحْتَهُ. صَدْرُها الكَبيرُ يَتَمَوَّجُ مَعَ كُلِّ حَرَكَةٍ. صَوْتُها الجَميلُ يَتَحَوَّلُ إلى أَنينٍ مُتَواصِلٍ.

Her full body trembled beneath him. Her large chest undulated with every movement. Her beautiful voice transformed into continuous moaning.

"أَنا قَريبَةٌ!" صَرَخَتْ.

"I am close!" she cried.

"وَأَنا أَيْضاً!"

"And I too!"

الفصل السابع: الذُّروَة

Chapter Seven: The Climax

وَصَلا إلى الذُّروَةِ مَعاً تَحْتَ نُجومِ الأَنْدَلُسِ. صَرَخَتْ زُهَيْرَةُ بِصَوْتِها المُوسيقِيِّ، وَصَرَخَ يوسُفُ اسْمَها كَأَنَّهُ يَقْرَأُ قَصيدَةً.

They reached the climax together under the Andalusian stars. Zuhaira cried out with her musical voice, and Yusuf cried out her name as if reading a poem.

اسْتَلْقَيا عَلى العُشْبِ، رائِحَةُ اللَّيْمونِ تُحيطُ بِهِما.

They lay on the grass, the scent of lemon surrounding them.

"يَجِبُ أَنْ نَهْرُبَ،" هَمَسَتْ. "لا أَسْتَطيعُ العَوْدَةَ إلى الخَليفَةِ بَعْدَ هذا."

"We must escape," she whispered. "I cannot return to the Caliph after this."

"سَنَهْرُبُ إلى إشْبيلِيَةَ. لي صَديقٌ هُناكَ سَيُخَبِّئُنا."

"We will escape to Seville. I have a friend there who will hide us."

الخاتِمَة

Epilogue

في تِلْكَ اللَّيْلَةِ، هَرَبا مِنْ قُرْطُبَةَ عَلى ظَهْرِ حِصانٍ واحِدٍ. تَرَكَ يوسُفُ ثَرْوَتَهُ وَشُهْرَتَهُ، وَتَرَكَتْ زُهَيْرَةُ القَصْرَ الذَّهَبِيَّ.

That night, they escaped from Cordoba on the back of one horse. Yusuf left his wealth and fame, and Zuhaira left the golden palace.

عاشا في إشْبيلِيَةَ تَحْتَ اسْمَيْنِ مُخْتَلِفَيْنِ. كانَ يَكْتُبُ الشِّعْرَ وَهِيَ تُغَنّي. وَيُقالُ إنَّ أَجْمَلَ قَصائِدِ الأَنْدَلُسِ كُتِبَتْ في تِلْكَ السَّنَواتِ السِّرِّيَّةِ، حينَ كانَ الشّاعِرُ يَكْتُبُ عَنْ جَسَدِ حَبيبَتِهِ كُلَّ لَيْلَةٍ.

They lived in Seville under different names. He wrote poetry and she sang. It is said that the most beautiful poems of Andalusia were written in those secret years, when the poet wrote about his beloved's body every night.

انْتَهَتِ القِصَّة | The End