A State of Cry and Neigh
Friday, 13 March 2009 08:39 administrator
A State of Cry and Neigh
By Saleh Al-Ashqar
ترجمة : خالد العوض

I wanted her to cry, to free all the great sorrow and grief. I wanted her to clean her soul, give rein to her hidden tears, open her mouth and erupt crying.
She closed her beautiful eyes, bowed her head down, and plunged into the deep corners of her soul. Her pearly face became deeply sullen. Deprived of their glitter, her eyes had become something indescribable.
She cried, tears rained from her, eyes. Her voice seemed very low. She covered her face with her palms and her long fingers. She began to weep bitterly. I was contending with a growing desire to cry out. I forced myself with difficulty not to cry. An immediate sour taste was burning inside of me.
Stop! Stop said I in a low voice. We, you and I, can’t escape crying. I added softly. I tried to rise. She took her hands away from her face and opened her eyes.
Crying isn’t enough, said she in clear voice, “ I feel relaxed now, free from depression. I was in need of erupting form the side, from the deepest recesses of my heart”.
She adjusted herself and rose. The both went down the street hand in hand; two persons with one heart. We noticed the gloomy faces of those people passing and crowding aimlessly. She said, who can provide these people with the freedom of mass crying? Who can disburden conscience from the sad feelings so that great happiness can prevail and green trees can grow?
“ You know,” she said, “ when I was nine, they prevented me from enjoying the beauty of childhood and from going out along the open streets. They got me inside the house, locked me in, and hung the keys on a place where I was too short to reach. Heaps of sorrows and cries began to accumulate inside of me my mother was waiting for a main to fulfill his desires. She taught me how to smile when I am sad, how to wear gold and dress in weddings.
She stopped talking. I tried to make her flow in torrents, but her voice was choked with sobs. A little later, she said quietly, They let me enter a wide house where I smell the Indian incense. There was a great deal of fusing. The house was swarmed with black eyes that kept eying me up and down. I was about to stumble. I wanted to cry out, or to fall dead on the ground. I walked in an unsteady way. At times, I looked at the aligned faces which seemed as if they were in a wax museum, and at other times I looked at the floor. A desire took possession of me to release myself from the ho hands that strongly took hold of my little gingers. Sometimes, I turned to his face or listened to the words he uttered when he shook hands with others. But I was dying or a cup of cold water. My was like a dry clayey wa curstepts, mine and his, were ridiculously slow and equal. We talked as if we were parading an honor guard. We passed the guard and then went up the stairs that were covered with red carpets. The moment he turned and face, I closed my eyes. My mother was watching me with tentative smiles. At the step before the last, I realized that I had lost my voice.
“ I searched for it among the faces but it was all in vain. A burning ball of tears came out from one eye and exploded on my red lips. At that night, I was crying, but he was laughing and neighing”.