A Smile in a Black Dream
29-05-2016, 10:53 AM
Story (8) By: Ibrahim S. Nadir
A Smile in a Black Dream
Translated by : Qahtan F. AL-Khatib / Iraq
Away, at the other end of the river bank, an errant fisherman is kept to his boat. His black look glitters with the sun ray reflection on the water surface. The river waves are flowing silently in front of him, as bewildered as his pupils of the eyes, murmuring every now and then of a splitting headache since yesterday. He spent the night without fishing. He comes to feel ponderousness in his head and aches in his neck. He touched his twisted hair and found it a curly mass, viscous of humidity and sweat.
For a long time and in his boat, he has been addicted to the dreams of silence and isolation. A pale and sickly smile might have fallen on him as he was remembering the landlord’s scream and threat, insisting on dismissing him from that ruin and that he had to look for an other dwelling despite his lame wife’s entreaty and his diseased son’s cry. By then, he wanted to tell him something, merely something, but he, as usual, hesitated, feeling loss and fear. He is but an ordinary man, of a fly or a little more value. He has to toil hard and work all day long in spite of the sun’s flame and the bad luck that is following him.
His boat unknowingly reached the ( bridge head ). He saw some tree leaves shivering in the river air filled with the fish odor, the empty wine cans and the food waste, where the boats stick to the river bank and green smoke ascends from behind does not wait to become violet then fades away in the space. He knows that his life has become empty and dry, and that his thought has become spiral and nothing occupies his mind but this damned house. He threatened the landlord of the trimmed mustache and the polished paper face.
The landlord’s features hurt, arouse in him vomiting as well as anger, generating in him an unruly desire that neighs in his intestines making him wish he could hang him by his hook and drop him to the river bed, tearing his entrails by his teeth without being noticed .... as his boat passes the steel bridge and its crisp threats to fall clashed with the clamor of the current.
He stopped at the river edge, near the wet herb, where the ending of an old boat sinks in water, with broken windows and scabby ribs, on its rusty cabin, the remains of clothes and rough sacks were hanged. A black man was watching a boiling tea pot, against whom sits a woman washing her clothes while the river was flowing in front of her with an orange mud color. The man was sitting in such a way that drew curiosity. His posterior appeared and his occupant was long, near him chain-linked boats were butting while he was stifling his following coughs with an evident effort.
When he stood up, it appeared to him that he was lame and that his left leg was shorter than the right one. Then he saw him stare at the water as if he had lost something.
The fisherman cautiously advanced towards the wet herb monitoring the lame man by the angle of his eyes trying to accumulate his thought in one thing : only a hot desire was biting him every now and then.
Before the lame man moved, he had lifted his face towards the sun. His olive skin shone as oiled wood and went on watching the fisherman with deviating pupils of the eyes, and with an idea that that man wanted to inflict harm on him. He, under silent conquer, cried, “H ........... a ........... Do ........... y o u ........... want to kill me ? Come here,” he said. “Come ........... here ........... What’s wrong with you :? Come on .... Come here.”
The fisherman’s teeth had been uncovered as tough dry salt pieces. Then he spit in the middle of his two grips as he was burying his blown neck between his wide shoulder blades, seizing the oar strongly. The lame man was trying to come down among the wet herb to the river bank, leaping like a rabbit towards the fisherman’s boat. Then he glanced at him leaping on the wet bank. The lame man laughed, trying to show that it was so huge that it provided security features and tranquility to the fisherman.
The latter dragged the two oars with all his power, they burst forth from the waves on their shiny wood rolled fine twisted flows of water. He, then, moved by his boat silently looking around in alert for the unforeseen. He began to sing as if he had got fed up with the concentrated silence around him.
The fisherman looked at the lame man and saw him standing at his place gazing into the water and expressing by his eyes to all distant trees and empty coffeehouses arranged alongside of the other bank of the river. Then he shifts his sight towards his flat boat.
The fisherman felt his eyelids curl and vehement. He rubbed them by his both hands trying to avoid the vehemence fretfulness which attacked him all of the sudden. With the lame man’s ascending the boat, it was shaken as he was carrying a brown colored sack. He leaned, with his right hand on the fisherman’s shoulder. He saw him open his eyes through his shadow that was dropped on the fisherman’s face. He, then, opened the sack and took out a handful of dried dates. He began to mumble by his lips moving his fingers and both hands as if he were calling someone for a meal.
The fisherman digested one date and threw away the stone into the river. Then he began rowing with enthusiasm singing a (roundelay) by a tame voice as he turned his boat towards the other bank. The fisherman was rowing with clear determination as he was opposing the violence of the current, his boat movements became fiercer and the lame man was rising and falling with wrinkled face and soporifics body.
At the other river bank, the lame man embarked holding a sack of dates. Then he saluted the fisherman and began rising the sand bank where the wet herb and clamorous coffeehouses.
The effort washed all features of his feeble body. His phantom was fading away step by step towards the horizon. The fisherman was following him by his white smile. For the first time, he took notice of his being an old man, with a bony face, but inside his wide eyes, there were goodness and love pushing him towards joy despite his infirmity.
Before the lame man reached the summit of the bank completely, he had stopped and started to wave his hand to the fisherman. The bridge ahead was divided into ways and wide entrances while the fisherman was rowing with delightful excitement. Yonder was hidden happiness encompassing him and an unruly desire blazing in his heart tearing all the city open spaces.
A Smile in a Black Dream
Translated by : Qahtan F. AL-Khatib / Iraq
Away, at the other end of the river bank, an errant fisherman is kept to his boat. His black look glitters with the sun ray reflection on the water surface. The river waves are flowing silently in front of him, as bewildered as his pupils of the eyes, murmuring every now and then of a splitting headache since yesterday. He spent the night without fishing. He comes to feel ponderousness in his head and aches in his neck. He touched his twisted hair and found it a curly mass, viscous of humidity and sweat.
For a long time and in his boat, he has been addicted to the dreams of silence and isolation. A pale and sickly smile might have fallen on him as he was remembering the landlord’s scream and threat, insisting on dismissing him from that ruin and that he had to look for an other dwelling despite his lame wife’s entreaty and his diseased son’s cry. By then, he wanted to tell him something, merely something, but he, as usual, hesitated, feeling loss and fear. He is but an ordinary man, of a fly or a little more value. He has to toil hard and work all day long in spite of the sun’s flame and the bad luck that is following him.
His boat unknowingly reached the ( bridge head ). He saw some tree leaves shivering in the river air filled with the fish odor, the empty wine cans and the food waste, where the boats stick to the river bank and green smoke ascends from behind does not wait to become violet then fades away in the space. He knows that his life has become empty and dry, and that his thought has become spiral and nothing occupies his mind but this damned house. He threatened the landlord of the trimmed mustache and the polished paper face.
The landlord’s features hurt, arouse in him vomiting as well as anger, generating in him an unruly desire that neighs in his intestines making him wish he could hang him by his hook and drop him to the river bed, tearing his entrails by his teeth without being noticed .... as his boat passes the steel bridge and its crisp threats to fall clashed with the clamor of the current.
He stopped at the river edge, near the wet herb, where the ending of an old boat sinks in water, with broken windows and scabby ribs, on its rusty cabin, the remains of clothes and rough sacks were hanged. A black man was watching a boiling tea pot, against whom sits a woman washing her clothes while the river was flowing in front of her with an orange mud color. The man was sitting in such a way that drew curiosity. His posterior appeared and his occupant was long, near him chain-linked boats were butting while he was stifling his following coughs with an evident effort.
When he stood up, it appeared to him that he was lame and that his left leg was shorter than the right one. Then he saw him stare at the water as if he had lost something.
The fisherman cautiously advanced towards the wet herb monitoring the lame man by the angle of his eyes trying to accumulate his thought in one thing : only a hot desire was biting him every now and then.
Before the lame man moved, he had lifted his face towards the sun. His olive skin shone as oiled wood and went on watching the fisherman with deviating pupils of the eyes, and with an idea that that man wanted to inflict harm on him. He, under silent conquer, cried, “H ........... a ........... Do ........... y o u ........... want to kill me ? Come here,” he said. “Come ........... here ........... What’s wrong with you :? Come on .... Come here.”
The fisherman’s teeth had been uncovered as tough dry salt pieces. Then he spit in the middle of his two grips as he was burying his blown neck between his wide shoulder blades, seizing the oar strongly. The lame man was trying to come down among the wet herb to the river bank, leaping like a rabbit towards the fisherman’s boat. Then he glanced at him leaping on the wet bank. The lame man laughed, trying to show that it was so huge that it provided security features and tranquility to the fisherman.
The latter dragged the two oars with all his power, they burst forth from the waves on their shiny wood rolled fine twisted flows of water. He, then, moved by his boat silently looking around in alert for the unforeseen. He began to sing as if he had got fed up with the concentrated silence around him.
The fisherman looked at the lame man and saw him standing at his place gazing into the water and expressing by his eyes to all distant trees and empty coffeehouses arranged alongside of the other bank of the river. Then he shifts his sight towards his flat boat.
The fisherman felt his eyelids curl and vehement. He rubbed them by his both hands trying to avoid the vehemence fretfulness which attacked him all of the sudden. With the lame man’s ascending the boat, it was shaken as he was carrying a brown colored sack. He leaned, with his right hand on the fisherman’s shoulder. He saw him open his eyes through his shadow that was dropped on the fisherman’s face. He, then, opened the sack and took out a handful of dried dates. He began to mumble by his lips moving his fingers and both hands as if he were calling someone for a meal.
The fisherman digested one date and threw away the stone into the river. Then he began rowing with enthusiasm singing a (roundelay) by a tame voice as he turned his boat towards the other bank. The fisherman was rowing with clear determination as he was opposing the violence of the current, his boat movements became fiercer and the lame man was rising and falling with wrinkled face and soporifics body.
At the other river bank, the lame man embarked holding a sack of dates. Then he saluted the fisherman and began rising the sand bank where the wet herb and clamorous coffeehouses.
The effort washed all features of his feeble body. His phantom was fading away step by step towards the horizon. The fisherman was following him by his white smile. For the first time, he took notice of his being an old man, with a bony face, but inside his wide eyes, there were goodness and love pushing him towards joy despite his infirmity.
Before the lame man reached the summit of the bank completely, he had stopped and started to wave his hand to the fisherman. The bridge ahead was divided into ways and wide entrances while the fisherman was rowing with delightful excitement. Yonder was hidden happiness encompassing him and an unruly desire blazing in his heart tearing all the city open spaces.
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