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The Pen A short-story from Afghanistan written in Dari |
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Text & Translation |
The Pen by `Azam Rahnaward Zaryab |
قلم از اعظم رهنورد زریاب |
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AUDIO
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Learn the VOCABULARY for Part 1 |
See this story converted to
Iran-style Persian |
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1 |
The truth of
it is that SharafAdDin liked his pen more than any other
thing under this blue sky. This pen was a normal
ball-point pen. Black with a gold-colored clasp.
Whenever at work it was needed, the lower part of the pen could be twisted until the tip of the pen which, like the
clasp was gold-color, appeared
(brought out its head).
SharafAdDin always boasted of his pen and would say that the
clasp of the tip of his pen was pure gold. |
حقیقتش این است که شرف الدین در زیر این آسمان کبود قلمش را
بیشتر از هر چیز دیگر دوست داشت. این قلم یک قلم خودرنگ
عادی بود. سیاه با یک گیرای طلایی رنگ. هنگام کار
لازم بود قسمت زیرین قلم تاب داده شود تا نوک قلم که مثل
گیرایش طلایی رنگ بود، سر درآورد. شرف الدین همیشه به
قلمش می‌نازید و می‌گفت که گیرای نوک قلمش طلای ناب است. |
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2 |
The picture that
his colleagues had of him in their minds was the picture of
a thin and short-statured man with pants and blue blazer which
were big on his body and one cheap fur hat and gold-colored
clasp of the pen which was seen on the upper portion of his
left breast. This golden clasp acquired more brilliance on
the background of the blue shirt and drew the eye of the
spectator towards itself. |
تصویری که همکارانش از او در ذهن داشتند، تصویر مرد لاغر و
کوچک اندامی بود با پتلون و کرتی آبیرنگی که در تنش کلانی
می‌کرد و یک کلاه قره قلی ارزان قیمت و گیرای طلایی رنگ قلمی
که در قسمت بالایی سینه چپش دیده می‌شد. این گیرای طلایی
بر زمینهٔ آبیرنگ کرتی درخشش بیشتری می‌یافت و چشم بیننده را
به سوی خودش می‌کشانید. |
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3 |
SharafAdDin
felt his pen had magical powers and he'd developed the
belief that if he regularly rose in rank, that if his
writings met with the praise of the boss, that if the clients showed him
respect, that if he and his family had bread on the table,
these and many other things were thanks to this very pen. |
شرف الدین احساس می‌کرد که قلمش قدرت جادویی دارد و عقیده پیدا
کرده بود که اگر منظم ترفیع می‌کند، که اگر مکتوب‌هایش با
تحسین مدیر رو به رو می‌شود، که اگر مراجعین به او احترام
می‌گذارند، که اگر خود و خانواده‌اش نانی به دست می‌آورند،
اینها و خیلی از چیزهای دیگر از فیض همین قلم است. |
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4 |
In the morning
when he would come to the office, he would ask after the
health of his
colleagues with much humility. Then he would sit down
at his desk. He would open the drawer of his desk and
cautiously take out his papers. |
صبح‌ها که به دفتر می‌آمد، با فروتنی بسیار با همکارانش
احوال‌پرسی می‌کرد. بعد، پشت میزش می‌نشست. رَوَک
میزش را باز می‌کرد و با احتیاط کاغذهایش را بیرون می‌آورد. |
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5 |
Then he picked
up his pen. He removed the cap. He slowly
twisted the bottom part so the golden-colored tip of the pen
would appear. For a moment, he looked at the shining
metal with admiration and then bent his head over his
papers. And every time there was a break in work, he
closed the cap of the pen with the same attentiveness and
carefulness and put it in the upper pocket of his shirt. |
آن وقت قلمش را می‌گرفت. سرش را باز می‌کرد. قسمت
پایینش را آهسته تاب می‌داد تا نوک طلایی رنگ قلم نمودار شود.
لختی فلز درخشان را با تحسین می‌نگریست و سپس سرش روی کاغذهایش
خم می‌شد. و هر گاه وقفه‌یی در کار پیش می‌آمد، با همان
دقّت و احتیاط سر قلم را می‌بست و در جیب بالایی کرتیش
می‌گذاشت. |
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6 |
His colleagues
never asked him for his pen since they knew that SharafAdDin
did not give his pen to anyone for even one minute.
Wherever he went, the golden clasp of his pen shone on his
left breast. He derived pleasure from this shine. As
if it were a badge of honor. |
همکارانش هرگز قلمش را از او نمی‌خواستند، چون می‌دانستند که
شرف الدین برای یک دقیقه هم قلمش را به کسی نمی‌دهد. او
هر جا که می‌رفت، گیرای طلایی قلمش بر سینهٔ چپش می‌درخشید.
او از این درحشش لذّت می‌برد. انگار نشان افتخار بود. |
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7 |
It went on like
this for long periods of time and finally one cold autumn
day arrived. It was one of those cold days when the
wind also blew. That day after work, SharafAdDin
wanted to go see his brother who had returned from a trip.
All day long in the dark office he felt the cold terribly.
Same for his colleagues. When quitting-time arrived,
everyone left the office together. SharafAdDin quickly
said good-bye to his colleagues and set out in the direction
of his brother's house. When he got near his brother's
house, he wanted to straighten himself out. Suddenly
his heart started to beat intensely and his legs became weak:
the golden clasp of his pen was not shining on his left
breast. |
مدّت‌ها همین طور گذشت و سر انجام یک روز سرد خزانی فرا رسید.
از آن روزهای سردی که باد هم می‌وزید. آن روز شرف الدین
می‌خواست پس از ختم کار به دیدن برادرش برود که از سفری برگشته
بود. سراسر روز را در دفتر سایه رخ به سختی احساس سرما
می‌کرد. همکارانش هم همین طور. ختم کار که فرا
رسید، همه یک جا از دفتر برآمدند. شرف الدین شتاب‌زده با
همکارانش خدا حافظی کرد و به سوی خانهٔ برادرش به راه افتاد.
نزدیک خانهٔ برادرش که رسید، خواست سر و وضع خودش را مرتّب
کند. ناگهان قلبش به شدّت بنای تپیدن گرفت و پاهایش سستی
کرد: گیرای طلایی رنگ قلمش بر سینه چپش نمی‌درخشید. |
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8 |
He hurriedly
searched all his pockets. The beating of his heart
increased. His pen wasn't there. He wanted to
return to the office but he remembered that the office was
already closed. He quietly mumbled:
- Perhaps I must have put it between the papers. |
با عجله همه جیب‌هایش را جستجو کرد. تپش قلبش فزونتر شد.
قلمش نبود. خواست برگردد به دفتر، ولی به یاد آورد که
دفتر دیگر بسته شده است. آهسته زمزمه کرد:
- شاید لای کاغذها مانده باشمش. |
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9 |
He went in the
direction of his brother's house. His heart pressed
with fear and agitation. He couldn't stay there long.
His pen was before his eyes. That clasp and
golden-colored tip. |
رفت به سوی خانهٔ برادرش. دلش را هراس و اضطرابی
می‌فشرد. نتوانست دیر آنجا بماند. قلمش پیش چشمش
بود. آن گیرا و نوک طلایی رنگ. |
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10 |
Then it became
night. His children were sleeping. When his wife
saw SharafAdDin was upset, she asked:
- What happened?
He answered:
- The pen, I have lost my pen. |
دیگر شب شده بود. کودکانش خوابیده بودند. زنش که
ناراحتی شرف الدین را دید، پرسید:
-
چی گپ شده؟
جواب داد:
- قلم، قلمم را گم کرده‌ام. |
| 11 |
And he uttered
this sentence such that you'd think he was speaking of the
death of one near to him.
His wife asked:
- Where did you lose it?
He said:
- I don't know...maybe at the office. |
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این جمله را چنان ادا کرد که انگار کسی از مرگ نزدیک خودش سخن
گوید.
زنش پرسید:
- کجا گمش کردی؟
گفت:
- نمی‌دانم ... شاید در دفتر. |
| 12 |
He didn't answer
his wife's questions any further and went to bed hungry.
Until around midnight he rolled from one side to the other
and his pen was before his eyes:
Black with golden clasp.
And this picture continued and found a way into his dreams.
In a dream, he saw his pen which had become very big.
As big as a tall plane tree and its golden clasp shone
against a black background like a shooting star. |
دیگر به سؤالات زنش جوابی نداد و گرسنه خوابید. تا
نیمه‌های شب از پهلویی به پهلویی می‌غلطید و قلمش پیش چشمش
بود:
سیاه با گیرای طلایی. و
این تصویر ادامه پیدا کرد و در خوابش راه یافت. در خواب
قلمش را دید که خیلی بزرگ شده است. به بلندی یک چنار
بلند و گیرای طلایش بر زمینه سیاه چون شهاب ثاقبی می‌درخشید. |
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Part 1
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