The Silk Merchant's Daughter of Damascus | ابْنَةُ تَاجِرِ الحَرِيرِ في دِمَشْق
"In the fragrant souks of Umayyad Damascus, a wealthy merchant's daughter discovers passion with a mysterious fabric dyer whose hands carry the colors of desire."
ابْنَةُ تَاجِرِ الحَرِيرِ في دِمَشْق
The Silk Merchant's Daughter of Damascus
الفَصْلُ الأَوَّل: أَلْوَانُ الشَّوْق
Chapter One: Colors of Longing
كَانَتْ سَلْمَى بِنْتُ عَبْدِ الرَّحْمَنِ أَجْمَلَ بَنَاتِ دِمَشْقَ وَأَكْثَرَهُنَّ شَحْمًا وَلَحْمًا. أَبُوهَا أَغْنَى تُجَّارِ الحَرِيرِ فِي الشَّامِ، يُرْسِلُ قَوَافِلَهُ إِلَى الصِّينِ وَيَسْتَقْبِلُهَا مُحَمَّلَةً بِأَنْفَسِ الأَقْمِشَة. لَكِنَّ سَلْمَى كَانَتْ تَشْعُرُ بِفَرَاغٍ لَا يَمْلَؤُهُ حَرِيرٌ وَلَا ذَهَب.
Salma bint Abd al-Rahman was the fairest and most full-fleshed of Damascus's daughters. Her father was the wealthiest silk merchant in all of Syria, sending his caravans to China and receiving them laden with the finest fabrics. But Salma felt an emptiness that neither silk nor gold could fill.
فِي صَبَاحٍ رَبِيعِيٍّ، أَرْسَلَهَا أَبُوهَا إِلَى سُوقِ الصَّبَّاغِينَ لِتَخْتَارَ أَلْوَانًا جَدِيدَةً لِلْحَرِير. هُنَاكَ، فِي دُكَّانٍ صَغِيرٍ تَفُوحُ مِنْهُ رَوَائِحُ النِّيلِ وَالزَّعْفَرَانِ، رَأَتْ رَجُلًا يَغْمِسُ يَدَيْهِ فِي أَحْوَاضِ الصِّبْغَةِ. كَانَتْ يَدَاهُ مُلَوَّنَتَيْنِ بِكُلِّ أَلْوَانِ الطَّيْفِ، وَعَيْنَاهُ سَوْدَاوَانِ كَاللَّيْلِ الدِّمَشْقِيّ.
On a spring morning, her father sent her to the dyers' market to choose new colors for silk. There, in a small shop fragrant with indigo and saffron, she saw a man dipping his hands in vats of dye. His hands were stained with every color of the spectrum, and his eyes were black as a Damascene night.
"أَنَا حَسَّانُ الصَّبَّاغُ،" قَالَ بِصَوْتٍ عَمِيقٍ، "وَأَسْتَطِيعُ أَنْ أَصْبُغَ لَكِ أَيَّ لَوْنٍ تَشْتَهِيه."
"I am Hassan the Dyer," he said in a deep voice, "and I can dye any color your heart desires."
الفَصْلُ الثَّاني: الصِّبْغَةُ السِّرِّيَّة
Chapter Two: The Secret Dye
طَلَبَتْ سَلْمَى لَوْنًا لَمْ تَرَهُ مِنْ قَبْلُ: لَوْنَ شَفَتَيْ امْرَأَةٍ بَعْدَ القُبْلَةِ. ابْتَسَمَ حَسَّانُ وَقَالَ: "هَذَا لَوْنٌ لَا يُصْنَعُ إِلَّا بِاللَّيْل، حِينَ تَنَامُ الشَّمْس."
Salma requested a color she had never seen: the color of a woman's lips after a kiss. Hassan smiled and said: "This color is made only at night, when the sun sleeps."
عَادَتْ إِلَيْهِ بَعْدَ الغُرُوب. كَانَ الدُّكَّانُ مُضَاءً بِشَمْعَةٍ وَاحِدَةٍ، وَأَحْوَاضُ الصِّبْغَةِ تَتَلَأْلَأُ كَبِرَكِ سِحْرِيَّة. "لِأَصْنَعَ هَذَا اللَّوْنَ،" قَالَ حَسَّانُ، "أَحْتَاجُ أَنْ أَرَى الأَصْل."
She returned to him after sunset. The shop was lit by a single candle, and the dye vats glimmered like magical pools. "To make this color," said Hassan, "I must see the original."
وَبِلَا تَرَدُّدٍ، اقْتَرَبَتْ سَلْمَى مِنْهُ. وَقَبَّلَهَا قُبْلَةً طَوِيلَةً، يَدَاهُ المُلَوَّنَتَانِ تَتَجَوَّلَانِ عَلَى ظَهْرِهَا الوَاسِعِ، تَارِكَتَيْنِ بَصَمَاتٍ حَمْرَاءَ وَزَرْقَاءَ عَلَى ثَوْبِهَا الأَبْيَض.
Without hesitation, Salma drew near. He kissed her a long kiss, his colored hands wandering across her broad back, leaving red and blue prints on her white gown.
الفَصْلُ الثَّالِث: صِبَاغَةُ الجَسَد
Chapter Three: Dyeing the Body
لَيْلَةً بَعْدَ لَيْلَةٍ، زَارَتْ سَلْمَى حَسَّانًا فِي دُكَّانِهِ. وَعَلَّمَهَا فَنًّا لَا يَعْرِفُهُ أَحَدٌ: صِبَاغَةَ الجَسَدِ بِأَلْوَانِ اللَّذَّة. غَمَسَ أَصَابِعَهُ فِي الحِنَّاءِ وَرَسَمَ عَلَى بَطْنِهَا المُمْتَلِئِ نُقُوشًا لَمْ تَرَهَا عَيْنٌ بَشَرِيَّة.
Night after night, Salma visited Hassan in his shop. He taught her an art none knew: dyeing the body with colors of pleasure. He dipped his fingers in henna and drew upon her full belly patterns no human eye had seen.
"جَسَدُكِ كَالحَرِيرِ،" هَمَسَ وَهُوَ يَرْسُمُ خَطًّا مِنْ عُنُقِهَا إِلَى سُرَّتِهَا، "لَكِنَّهُ أَنْعَمُ وَأَدْفَأ."
"Your body is like silk," he whispered as he drew a line from her neck to her navel, "but softer and warmer."
وَحِينَ رَقَدَتْ عَلَى أَكْيَاسِ الصِّبْغَةِ الفَارِغَةِ، وَجَسَدُهَا الغَزِيرُ يَتَمَوَّجُ تَحْتَ ضَوْءِ الشَّمْعَةِ كَمَوْجِ الفُرَاتِ، عَلِمَتْ سَلْمَى أَنَّهَا وَجَدَتْ أَلْوَانَهَا الحَقِيقِيَّة.
When she lay upon the empty dye sacks, her generous body rippling under the candlelight like the waves of the Euphrates, Salma knew she had found her true colors.
الفَصْلُ الرَّابِع: القُمَاشُ الذَّهَبِيّ
Chapter Four: The Golden Cloth
صَنَعَ حَسَّانُ لِسَلْمَى قُمَاشًا لَمْ يَرَ العَالَمُ مِثْلَهُ: حَرِيرٌ ذَهَبِيٌّ يَتَغَيَّرُ لَوْنُهُ مَعَ حَرَارَةِ الجِلْد. كُلَّمَا اشْتَعَلَتْ رَغْبَتُهَا، احْمَرَّ القُمَاشُ كَالجَمْر.
Hassan made for Salma a cloth the world had never seen: golden silk that changed color with the heat of skin. Whenever her desire ignited, the cloth reddened like embers.
"كَيْفَ أَلْبَسُ هَذَا أَمَامَ النَّاس؟" ضَحِكَتْ وَهِيَ تَلْتَفُّ بِهِ عَارِيَةً.
"How can I wear this before people?" she laughed, wrapping herself in it naked.
"لَا تَلْبَسِيهِ إِلَّا لِي،" قَالَ، وَيَدَاهُ تَرْفَعَانِ القُمَاشَ عَنْ فَخِذَيْهَا المُمْتَلِئَتَيْن. "فَأَنَا وَحْدِي أَسْتَحِقُّ رُؤْيَةَ هَذِهِ الأَلْوَان."
"Wear it only for me," he said, his hands lifting the cloth from her full thighs. "For I alone deserve to see these colors."
الفَصْلُ الخَامِس: اللَّوْنُ النِّهَائِيّ
Chapter Five: The Final Color
عَلِمَ أَبُوهَا بِالأَمْرِ. لَكِنَّهُ بَدَلَ أَنْ يَغْضَبَ، طَلَبَ مُقَابَلَةَ الصَّبَّاغِ الَّذِي أَسَرَ قَلْبَ ابْنَتِهِ. وَحِينَ رَأَى القُمَاشَ الذَّهَبِيَّ السِّحْرِيَّ، عَرَفَ أَنَّهُ أَمَامَ فَنَّانٍ لَا مَثِيلَ لَهُ.
Her father learned of the affair. But instead of anger, he requested to meet the dyer who had captured his daughter's heart. When he saw the magical golden cloth, he knew he stood before an artist without equal.
"زَوِّجْهَا،" قَالَ لِحَسَّانَ، "وَلْيَكُنْ مَهْرُهَا أَلْفَ ذِرَاعٍ مِنْ هَذَا القُمَاش."
"Marry her," he said to Hassan, "and let her dowry be a thousand cubits of this cloth."
الخَاتِمَة
Epilogue
صَارَ حَسَّانُ أَشْهَرَ صَبَّاغٍ فِي العَالَمِ الإِسْلَامِيِّ، وَسَلْمَى زَوْجَتُهُ وَشَرِيكَتُهُ وَإِلْهَامُهُ. وَيُقَالُ إِنَّ القُمَاشَ الذَّهَبِيَّ السِّحْرِيَّ مَا زَالَ يُصْنَعُ فِي دِمَشْقَ، لَكِنَّهُ لَا يُبَاعُ إِلَّا لِلْعُشَّاقِ الَّذِينَ يَعْرِفُونَ سِرَّ أَلْوَانِهِ الحَقِيقِيَّة.
Hassan became the most famous dyer in the Islamic world, with Salma as his wife, partner, and muse. It is said the magical golden cloth is still made in Damascus, but sold only to lovers who know the true secret of its colors.