ድ ል ድ ይ

ድ ል ድ ይ1)

(ከፍራንስ ካፍካ, 1916)

*

ቀጥ ያልኩና ቀዝቃዛ ነበርኩ፤ በገደል ላይ የተጋደምኩ ድ ል ድ ይ። በዚህ በኩል የግሬ ጣቶች፡ በወድያኛው እጆቼ በተሰባበረው ካብ ውስጥ ሆነው፤ ጠበቅ ኣድርጌ እራሴን ተክያለሁ።  የልብሴ ዘርፎች ግራና ቀኝ ሰላምታ ይሰጣሉ።ገደሉ ስር ያለው የበረዶ ወንዙ ያደነቁራል። ማንም ሃገር-ጎብኝ/ቱሪስት ወደ ዚህ ማለፊያ የሌለው ከፍታ ላይ ዞርም ብሎ ኣያውቅ። ድልድዩም በየትኛውም ካርታ ላይ እስካሁን ተገልጾ ኣያውቅም። ስለሆነም ዕጣ ክፍሌ ተዘርግቶ መቆየት ነው፤ ዝም ብዬ መጠበቅ ነበረብኝ። ካልተደረመሰ ኣንዴ የተዘረጋ ድልድይ፦ ድልድይ መሆንን ከቶም ሊያቆም ኣይችልም።

አንድ ግዜ ታድያ፤ መሸት ሲል፦ የመጀመሪያው ይሁን እንድ ሺኛው፦ ያልታወቀ ነገር፤ ኣላውቅም፦ ሃሳቤ መላ ቅጡ ጠፍቶት ዙሪያውን ይሽከረከራል፤ ኣንድ ነገር ተከሰተ። በበጋ ወራት ነው፤ መሸት ሲል፦ የገደሉ ወንዝ ጭለማውን እያንጎዳጎደው ሳለ፦ የአንድ ሰው የርምጃ ኮቴ ሰማሁኝ።

ወደኔ ወደእኔ ይምጡ፤ ድልድይ ሆይ እራስህን ዘርጋ፡ ተዘጋጅ፦ ድጋፍ የለሽ ማዕዘንህን አጥናው፤ የድጋፍ ኣደራህን ለመወጣት የተሰጠህን መንገደኛ ተሸከም! የመንገደኛው እርምጃ ኣስተማማኝ ካልመሰለህ በዘዴ አስተካክለው፤ እንዲያም ሆ ኖ ከተንገዳገደብህ፡ ኣይዞህ ብለህ እንደተራራው እግዜር ሆነህ ወደ ማዶው መሬት ኣሽቀንጥረህ አኑረው።

እንግዳው መጣ፤ በብረት ምርኩዙ ጫፍ ጎነታተለኝ፤ የልብሴን ዘርፎች በምርኩዙ ብድግ አደረጋቸውና ወደ ገላዬ አስተካከላቸው። በጥቅጥቁ ጸጉሬ ውስጥ የምርኩዙን ጫፍ ከቶ፦  አካባቢውን በመረበሽ እየተቃኘ ይመሰላል፤ እዛው ለረዥም ጊዜ ተወው። ከዚያ ወዲያ ግን፦ እኔም ኣብሬ ከርሱ ጋር፦ ጋራና ገደሉን እያለምኩ ሳለ፤ በሁለቱም እግሩ የሰውነቴ መሃል ላይ ቆሞ ይዘልብኝ ገባ።

እኔም ምኑም ሳይገባኝ፦ የሚያሳብድ ህመም ሁለመናዬን ወረረኝ። ኧረ የማን ያለህ! ልጅ ትባላለህ ህልም፦መንገደኛ ወይስ ራሱን የሚገድል፤ አሳሳች ወይስ አውዳሚ? እናም ይህን ጉድ ለማየት ዞር እንደማለት ኣልኩኝ። ጉድ ነው! ድልድይ ሲዞር! ገና ዞር ከማለቴ መደፋቴ፦ ተደፋሁ፤ ወዲያው ከመበጣጠሴ፦ ከበታቼ ሁሌ ሰላማዊ መስለው፦ከሚነጉደው የወንዝ ውሃ ሥር አፍጠው ሲያዩኝ የኖሩት፦ የተሳሉት ድንጋዮች በጣጥቀውኝ መለያየታቸው።

*

1) የሁላችንም የሆነችው ኢ ት ዮ ጵ ያ ሃገራችን ወደ አዲሱ የ ሰላምና የብልጽግና መንደር ና ዘመን ለመሸጋገር በምታደርገው ጉዞ ላይ 

ከረጅም ጊዜ ጀምሮ የተዘረጋላት ድልድይ ያለ ይመስለኛል:: በእግዜር ይሁን በተፈጥሮ ለባለ ጉዳይ እንተወው::

በዚህ ድልድይ፦ ዕጣ ክፍሏ ሆኖ፦ ዛሬ በሆነ ባልሆነው በማይሆን እየዘለለ፤ ድልድዪን መከራ የማያበላ የፖለቲካ ወገን 

ያለ አይመስልም። እንዲያውም ይባስ ብሎ እድሜ ልኳን ያልተለያት ረሃብና ችጋር ከድሮው ባላነሰ መጠኑ እንደገና ሰሞኑን እየጎበኛት ነው።
ስለሆነም፡ እንዳው ኣረፍ ብሎ  ለሁላችንም ለማሰላሰል ይበጅ ይሆናል በማለት፡ በኣርቆ ኣሳቢነቱ  በሁሉም ሰው ዘንድ የተወደደውን 
የታዋቂዊውን የኣውሮፓ ያለፈው ክፍለ ዘመን ባለ ቅኔ፦ ፍራንስ ካፍካ፦ ኣጭር መልክት  ወደ ኣማርኛ  ለቀቅ ባለ መልኩ ለመተርጎም ሞክሬያለሁ።
„The Bridge“ – „Die Brücke“  ድልድይ፦  ይባላል (ከፍራንስ ካፍካ, 1916).

ስለ ድልድዪ መልክት ማሰታወሻ

ድልድይ እንደ መሬት ታግሶ እንደ ሰማይ ረቆ ሁሉንም ሊያስታናግድ ሲገባው፦ ቀና ብሎ አስቸጋሪ እንግዳውን ለይቶ ለማስቀረት ከተመለከተ፤

እንግዳው መንገደኛ ደግሞ  ድልድዩን እንዳይኑ ብሌን ጠብቆ በንክብካቤ ከልተገለገለበት፤ ለሁሉም አይበጅም፤ መጥፊያቸው ነው ማለት ነው !!!

የኢትዮጵያ ድልድያችን ዕጣም ይህ እንዳይሆን ሁሉም ማስተዋል ኣለበት!

 *

The Bridge

I was stiff and cold, I was a bridge, I lay over a ravine. My toes on one side, my fingers clutching the other, I had clamped myself fast into the crumbling clay. The tails of my coat fluttered at my sides. Far below brawled the icy trout stream. No tourist strayed to this impassable height, the bridge was not yet traced on any map. So I lay and waited; I could only wait. Without falling, no bridge, once spanned, can cease to be a bridge.It was toward evening one day- was it the first, was it the thousandth? I cannot tell- my thoughts were always in confusion and perpetually moving in a circle. It was toward evening in summer, the roar of the stream had grown deeper, when I heard the sound of a human step! To me, to me. Straighten yourself, bridge, make ready, railless beams, to hold up the passenger entrusted to you. If his steps are uncertain, steady them unobtrusively, but if he stumbles show what you are made of and like a mountain god hurl him across to land.

He came, he tapped me with the iron point of his stick, then he lifted my coattails with it and put them in order upon me. He plunged the point of his stick into my bushy hair and let it lie there for a long time, forgetting me no doubt while he wildly gazed around him. But then – I was just following him in thought over mountain and valley – he jumped with both feet on the middle of my body. I shuddered with wild pain, not

knowing what was happening. Who was it? A child? A dream? A wayfarer? A suicide? A tempter? A destroyer? And I turned so as to see him. A bridge to turn around! I had not yet turned quiet around when I already began to fall, I fell and in a moment I was torn and transpierced by the sharp rocks which had always gazed up at me so peacefully from the rushing water.

Translated by Willa and Edwin Muir

Written by Franz Kafka

http://www.scribd.com/doc/6366575/The-Bridge

*

Die Brücke

Ich war steif und kalt, ich war eine Brücke, über einem Abgrund lag ich. Diesseits waren die Fußspitzen, jenseits die Hände eingebohrt, in bröckelndem Lehm habe ich mich festgebissen. Die Schöße meines Rockes wehten zu meinen Seiten. In der Tiefe lärmte der eisige Forellenbach. Kein Tourist verirrte sich zu dieser unwegsamen Höhe, die Brücke war in den Karten noch nicht eingezeichnet. - So lag ich und wartete; ich mußte warten. Ohne einzustürzen kann keine einmal errichtete Brücke aufhören, Brücke zu sein.

Einmal gegen Abend war es - war es der erste, war es der tausendste, ich weiß nicht, - meine Gedanken gingen immer in einem Wirrwarr und immer in der Runde. Gegen Abend im Sommer, dunkler rauschte der Bach, da hörte ich einen Mannesschritt! Zu mir, zu mir. - Strecke dich, Brücke, setze dich in Stand, geländerloser Balken, halte den dir Anvertrauten. Die Unsicherheit seines Schrittes gleiche unmerklich aus, schwankt er aber, dann gib dich zu erkennen und wie ein Berggott schleudere ihn ins Land.

Er kam, mit der Eisenspitze seines Stockes beklopfte er mich, dann hob er mit ihr meine Rockschöße und ordnete sie auf mir. In mein buschiges Haar fuhr er mit der Spitze und ließ sie, wahrscheinlich wild umherblickend, lange drin liegen. Dann aber - gerade träumte ich ihm nach über Berg und Tal - sprang er mit beiden Füßen mir mitten auf den Leib. Ich erschauerte in wildem Schmerz, gänzlich unwissend. Wer war es? Ein Kind? Ein Traum? Ein Wegelagerer? Ein Selbstmörder? Ein Versucher? Ein Vernichter? Und ich drehte mich um, ihn zu sehen. - Brücke dreht sich um! Ich war noch nicht umgedreht, da stürzte ich schon, ich stürzte, und schon war ich zerrissen und aufgespießt von den zugespitzten Kieseln, die mich immer so friedlich aus dem rasenden Wasser angestarrt hatten.

Von Franz Kafka

http://www.textlog.de/32055.html

A valuable reference on Kafka literature :
A companion to the works of Franz Kafka / edited by James Rolleston