The Weaver's Passion of Isfahan | شَغَفُ النَّسّاجَةِ في أَصْفَهان
"In the carpet workshops of Isfahan, a master weaver's widow discovers that the threads of passion can be woven with a young dye-maker whose colors bring new life to her lonely nights."
شَغَفُ النَّسّاجَةِ في أَصْفَهان
The Weaver's Passion of Isfahan
الفصل الأول: مَدينَةُ السَّجّاد
Chapter One: The City of Carpets
في أَصْفَهانَ، حَيْثُ تُصْنَعُ أَجْمَلُ سَجّاجيدِ العالَمِ، كانَتْ وَرْشَةُ النَّسّاجَةِ شَمْسُ الدّوحَةِ. أَرْمَلَةٌ في السَّابِعَةِ وَالثَّلاثينَ، وَرِثَتْ حِرْفَةَ زَوْجِها الرّاحِلِ.
In Isfahan, where the most beautiful carpets in the world were made, stood the workshop of the weaver Shams al-Dawha. A widow of thirty-seven who inherited her late husband's craft.
جَسَدُها مُمْتَلِئٌ كَخُيوطِ الحَريرِ المُتَراكِمَةِ، بَشَرَتُها بَيْضاءُ كَالقُطْنِ غَيْرِ المَصْبوغِ، وَعَيْناها بُنِّيَّتانِ دافِئَتانِ كَالصّوفِ الفاخِرِ.
Her body was full like accumulated silk threads, her skin white as undyed cotton, and her eyes warm brown like fine wool.
أَصابِعُها ماهِرَةٌ تَنْسُجُ الخُيوطَ بِسُرْعَةٍ عَجيبَةٍ، لكِنَّ قَلْبَها كانَ فارِغاً مُنْذُ وَفاةِ زَوْجِها قَبْلَ ثَلاثِ سَنَواتٍ.
Her fingers were skilled, weaving threads with amazing speed, but her heart had been empty since her husband's death three years ago.
"أَنْسُجُ الجَمالَ لِلآخَرينَ،" كانَتْ تَقولُ، "بَيْنَما حَياتي خالِيَةٌ مِنَ الأَلْوانِ."
"I weave beauty for others," she would say, "while my life is empty of colors."
الفصل الثاني: صانِعُ الأَصْباغ
Chapter Two: The Dye Maker
وَصَلَ فَريدُ بنُ كَريمٍ مِنْ شيرازَ، شابٌّ في التّاسِعَةِ وَالعِشْرينَ، يَحْمِلُ أَصْباغاً نادِرَةً.
Farid ibn Karim arrived from Shiraz, a young man of twenty-nine, carrying rare dyes.
"أَنا صانِعُ أَصْباغٍ. سَمِعْتُ أَنَّ سَجّاجيدَكِ الأَجْمَلُ في أَصْفَهانَ."
"I am a dye maker. I heard your carpets are the most beautiful in Isfahan."
نَظَرَتْ إلَيْهِ. كانَ وَسيماً بِعَيْنَيْنِ خَضْراوَيْنِ وَيَدَيْنِ مُلَوَّنَتَيْنِ مِنَ العَمَلِ.
She looked at him. He was handsome with green eyes and hands colored from work.
"أَرِني ما عِنْدَكَ."
"Show me what you have."
فَتَحَ حَقيبَتَهُ. أَلْوانٌ لَمْ تَرَها مِنْ قَبْلُ. أَحْمَرٌ كَالدَّمِ، أَزْرَقٌ كَسَماءِ اللَّيْلِ، أَخْضَرٌ كَالزُّمُرُّدِ.
He opened his bag. Colors she had never seen before. Red as blood, blue as the night sky, green as emerald.
"هذِهِ... هذِهِ رائِعَةٌ."
"These... these are wonderful."
ابْتَسَمَ. "لكِنَّها باهِتَةٌ أَمامَ أَلْوانِ عَيْنَيْكِ."
He smiled. "But they are pale before the colors of your eyes."
الفصل الثالث: النَّسْجُ المُشْتَرَك
Chapter Three: Weaving Together
بَقِيَ فَريدٌ في أَصْفَهانَ. صارَ يَعْمَلُ مَعَ شَمْسٍ، يُعِدُّ الأَصْباغَ وَهِيَ تَنْسُجُ.
Farid stayed in Isfahan. He began working with Shams, preparing dyes while she wove.
"أَنْتَ ماهِرَةٌ جِدّاً،" قالَ لَها يَوْماً وَهُوَ يُراقِبُ أَصابِعَها.
"You are very skilled," he told her one day as he watched her fingers.
"تَعَلَّمْتُ مِنْ زَوْجي."
"I learned from my husband."
"هَلْ تَشْتاقينَ إلَيْهِ؟"
"Do you miss him?"
"أَشْتاقُ إلى اللَّمْسَةِ. إلى الدِّفْءِ. إلى أَنْ يَكونَ أَحَدٌ بِجانِبي."
"I miss the touch. The warmth. Having someone beside me."
نَظَرَ إلى عَيْنَيْها. رَأى فيهِما شَوْقاً طَويلاً.
He looked into her eyes. He saw in them a long yearning.
"أَنا هُنا."
"I am here."
الفصل الرابع: خُيوطُ الرَّغْبَة
Chapter Four: Threads of Desire
ذاتَ لَيْلَةٍ، بَقِيا يَعْمَلانِ بَعْدَ مُنْتَصَفِ اللَّيْلِ. الشُّموعُ تُنيرُ الوَرْشَةَ.
One night, they stayed working past midnight. Candles lit the workshop.
"خُيوطُكِ مُتَشابِكَةٌ،" قالَ، وَهُوَ يَمُدُّ يَدَهُ لِيُساعِدَها.
"Your threads are tangled," he said, extending his hand to help her.
تَلامَسَتْ أَصابِعُهُما. تَوَقَّفَ الزَّمَنُ.
Their fingers touched. Time stopped.
"فَريدُ..."
"Farid..."
"شَمْسُ..."
"Shams..."
قَبَّلَها. شَفَتاهُ ناعِمَتانِ كَالحَريرِ الذي تَنْسُجُهُ.
He kissed her. His lips were soft as the silk she wove.
"هذا حَرامٌ،" هَمَسَتْ.
"This is forbidden," she whispered.
"الحَرامُ أَنْ تَبْقى امْرَأَةٌ جَميلَةٌ وَحيدَةً."
"The forbidden thing is for a beautiful woman to remain alone."
الفصل الخامس: نَسْجُ الجَسَد
Chapter Five: Weaving the Body
حَمَلَها إلى كَوْمَةٍ مِنَ السَّجّاجيدِ الناعِمَةِ. أَنْزَلَ ثِيابَها.
He carried her to a pile of soft carpets. He lowered her clothes.
ظَهَرَ جَسَدُها المُمْتَلِئُ. نَهْداها كَبيرانِ ناعِمانِ كَالصّوفِ، بَطْنُها مُسْتَديرَةٌ كَالوِسادَةِ، وَوِرْكاها عَريضَتانِ.
Her full body appeared. Her breasts were large and soft as wool, her belly round as a pillow, and her hips wide.
"جَسَدُكِ أَجْمَلُ سَجّادَةٍ رَأَيْتُها."
"Your body is the most beautiful carpet I have seen."
"اِنْسُجْ عَلَيْهِ ما شِئْتَ."
"Weave on it whatever you want."
قَبَّلَ نَهْدَيْها. لِسانُهُ يَرْسُمُ خُطوطاً عَلى جِلْدِها كَخُيوطِ السَّجّادَةِ.
He kissed her breasts. His tongue drew lines on her skin like carpet threads.
"آهٍ!" أَنَّتْ. "اسْتَمِرَّ!"
"Ah!" she moaned. "Continue!"
الفصل السادس: صِباغَةُ اللَّذَّة
Chapter Six: Dyeing with Pleasure
نَزَلَ بَيْنَ فَخِذَيْها. لَحَسَ زَهْرَتَها بِبُطْءٍ.
He descended between her thighs. He licked her flower slowly.
"يا إلهي!" صَرَخَتْ. "ما هذِهِ الأَلْوانُ التي أَراها؟!"
"My God!" she cried. "What are these colors I see?!"
"هذِهِ أَلْوانُ اللَّذَّةِ. أَنْدَرُ الأَصْباغِ."
"These are the colors of pleasure. The rarest dyes."
اسْتَمَرَّ يَلْعَقُها. جَسَدُها يَرْتَجِفُ عَلى السَّجّاجيدِ الناعِمَةِ.
He continued licking her. Her body trembled on the soft carpets.
وَصَلَتْ إلى ذُرْوَتِها، صارِخَةً صَرْخَةً طَويلَةً.
She reached her peak, letting out a long cry.
"اُدْخُلْني!" تَوَسَّلَتْ. "اِنْسُجْني مِنْ جَديدٍ!"
"Enter me!" she pleaded. "Weave me anew!"
الفصل السابع: النَّسْجُ الأَخير
Chapter Seven: The Final Weaving
خَلَعَ ثِيابَهُ. يَداهُ مُلَوَّنَتانِ بِالأَصْباغِ.
He removed his clothes. His hands colored with dyes.
"يَداكَ سَتُلَوِّنانِني."
"Your hands will color me."
"هذا ما أُريدُ."
"That is what I want."
دَخَلَها. بَدَأَ يَتَحَرَّكُ بِإيقاعِ النَّوْلِ. يَصْعَدُ وَيَنْزِلُ، يَدْخُلُ وَيَخْرُجُ.
He entered her. He began to move with the rhythm of the loom. Rising and falling, entering and exiting.
"أَسْرَعُ! أَقْوى!"
"Faster! Harder!"
نَهْداها الكَبيرانِ يَتَأَرْجَحانِ كَالخُيوطِ عَلى النَّوْلِ، وَالأَصْباغُ مِنْ يَدَيْهِ تَتْرُكُ آثاراً عَلى جِلْدِها.
Her large breasts swayed like threads on the loom, and the dyes from his hands left traces on her skin.
الفصل الثامن: السَّجّادَةُ الجَديدَة
Chapter Eight: The New Carpet
"أَنا قَريبَةٌ!" صَرَخَتْ.
"I am close!" she cried.
"مَعاً سَنُنْهي هذا النَّسْجَ!"
"Together we will finish this weaving!"
وَصَلا إلى ذُرْوَتِهِما. صَرَخا صَرْخَةً واحِدَةً.
They reached their peak. They cried out in one voice.
أَفْرَغَ نَفْسَهُ داخِلَها، حَرارَتُهُ تَمْتَزِجُ مَعَ حَرارَتِها.
He emptied himself inside her, his heat mixing with hers.
اسْتَلْقَيا عَلى السَّجّاجيدِ، أَجْسادُهُما مُلَوَّنَةٌ بِالأَصْباغِ.
They lay on the carpets, their bodies colored with dyes.
"هَلْ سَتَبْقى؟" سَأَلَتْهُ.
"Will you stay?" she asked him.
"سَأَبْقى. سَنَنْسُجُ مَعاً إلى الأَبَدِ."
"I will stay. We will weave together forever."
الخاتِمَة
Epilogue
تَزَوَّجَ فَريدٌ شَمْساً. صارا أَشْهَرَ صانِعَيْ سَجّاجيدَ في أَصْفَهانَ.
Farid married Shams. They became the most famous carpet makers in Isfahan.
وَيُقالُ إنَّهُما صَنَعا سَجّادَةً خاصَّةً، رَسَما عَلَيْها قِصَّةَ حُبِّهِما. وَهِيَ مَوْجودَةٌ حَتّى اليَوْمِ في مُتْحَفِ أَصْفَهانَ، لكِنَّ لا أَحَدَ يَعْرِفُ سِرَّها.
And it is said that they made a special carpet, drawing on it the story of their love. It exists to this day in the Isfahan museum, but no one knows its secret.
انْتَهَتِ القِصَّة | The End