تعريف بلجنة الترجمة ، الرؤية – الرسالة – الأهداف – الإستراتيجية. ومواد أدبية

Chairperson of the Committee: ‎

Dr.Iman A. Alaseery

Introduction:‎

Since ancient times, translation is considered an effective ‎means of connecting the parts of the world together in ‎exchange of knowledge. It is also considered a window ‎overlooking others’ point of view, beliefs, cultures, and ‎civilizations by means of writing that started earlier, and ‎through devices of reading, writing and audio-visual now a ‎days. In order to be accepted by the others as a cultured and ‎civilized people , we should be credible during the transfer of ‎facts. We also must be fully aware of the Hadith of the ‎Messenger of Allah (PBUH), “ He will be safe who learns others’ ‎language, “ As a matter of fact, it is not only the conversational ‎language which is intended here but the thoughts, ‎philosophy, culture and civilization as well.‎

Vision:‎

Disseminating the thoughts ,philosophy, culture and literature of our ‎society honestly and comprehensively to the Other.‎

Mission:‎

Translating the ideas of our intellectuals, knowledge of our ‎civilization, faith, and culture to the others through media ( TV, radio, ‎newspapers and electronic newspapers) and multimedia.‎

Objectives:‎

• Confirm that translation is an art before being a craft or a ‎hobby.‎

• Shed lights upon the activities of the Translation ‎Committee and its role in the dissemination of different ‎cultures.‎

• Clarify the impact of translation on the literary, ‎intellectual and cultural movement.‎

• Document the advancement of culture, tourism, ‎literature, and history of the region into other languages. ‎

• Open a window for the reader to the talk shows on ‎foreign channels.‎

• Train voluntary cadres in translating for tourism.‎

• Highlight the role of translation as a rich source to preach ‎Islam.‎

• Translate and revise the extraneous thoughts and beliefs ‎and to clarify their negative impact on the minds of all ‎generations and cultures.‎

Strategies:‎

• Translating the most important creative literary works in ‎the Arts Club into other languages.‎

• Translating the documentaries about Asir Region and the ‎Man of Asir and his culture, folklores and creativity.‎

• Investigating reports with the help of researchers and ‎historians to illustrate the region’s heritage and history.‎

• Explaining the culture and heritage of the region to the ‎foreign delegations.‎

• ‎ Holding training sessions, workshops, lectures, seminars ‎and debates to activate the importance of the role of ‎translation in literary, intellectual and cultural works.‎

• Publishing a monthly magazine to activate the role of ‎translation in spreading culture and literature.‎

• Getting benefit of YouTube site to display the importance ‎of translation in different fields of life.‎

• Interacting with community by sharing different events ‎through flyers, brochures, and posters.‎

• Activating the role of translation in the National events.‎

• Taking advantage of the creativity of the students of KKU ‎to create innovative works in the field of translation ‎through competitions from the perspective of visual ‎presentations about the culture, civilization and history of ‎the region.‎

• Promoting the students of higher education and the youth ‎in general to employ their creativity in research projects, ‎reports and creative works.‎

On the wall, the wooden clock showed two in the morning. The ‎comfortable office appeared static, except for the gentle breeze, ‎coming through the door of the balcony overlooking the valley, to ‎tamper with the piles of papers stacked on the table. My father was ‎leaning on the wall of the terrace trying to gaze beyond the ‎darkness surrounding our house, and the dim light that illuminates ‎a corner of the yard.‎

I had just finished packing my younger sister’s school bag for a ‎new day. The weather was wonderful. It was a quiet evening ‎except for the wild dogs’ bark intermittently coming from the ‎heart of darkness beyond the valley.‎

‎ It appeared to me that my father did not notice my presence in the ‎room. He was definitely preoccupied in some serious thought. A ‎thinker like him could not take this silence without battling a ‎dream. This was confirmed by the carefully sharpened pencils and ‎by the piles of papers arranged carefully. ‎

I broke his loneliness without uttering a word. He glanced at me, ‎and was distracted again by a realm beyond the unknown. ‎Everything was still quiet around us, even the unequal battle ‎between the dim light of the lamp and the soundless armies of ‎darkness over there. I hated this eternal quietness because it ‎resembled my frustrated inner self. This was the second year after ‎my graduation from university, and I was still jobless. This ‎thought overpowered me only during leisure time. My father’s ‎voice interrupted the stream of my thoughts. “Jasmine, dear ‎daughter, doesn’t this scene remind you of something?” And he ‎pointed his forefinger to the hordes of darkness fighting the lonely ‎knight in the East corner of the courtyard. He added, “Over there, ‎near the lamp.” ‎

‎ I said, trying to sound like an intellectual, “Hope, ambition.” I ‎wanted to be accurate. I thought he was referring to my suffering, ‎and trying to tell me something to calm down my confused mind. ‎But, unfortunately, my guess was wrong because he was thinking ‎of something entirely different.‎

My father continued, “Ignorance, injustice and falseness always ‎lose because they cannot dominate truth. It may be besieged, ‎suppressed, or even restrained by them. But truth – my daughter – ‎will never vanish even if it is ignored or it is an individual – an ‎individual alone is a nation.”‎

The father was silent for a while, looking at the farthest south of ‎the valley where a dense forest of the mountainous trees was ‎covered in darkness .Then he said, without turning towards me: “ ‎Listen! Do you hear anything? “‎

‎

‎ “No, nothing, father, only, the distant howling of wild dogs!”

‎ “This is not everything!! There is the truth over there. The ‎potential truth is there. The world, all the world is over there, my ‎daughter. ” ‎

Those were his last words while he was looking at me. Then he ‎leaned on his cane and started to go down. My sight followed him ‎until he disappeared in the darkness. Again, I was alone, ‎beholding the battle between light and darkness!‎

Written in Arabic by : Ahmed A. Al –Moria’.‎

Translated into English by: Dr. Iman A. Alaseery

He saw her in the window waving her beautiful hand. For a ‎moment he felt as if his whole body was swaying right and left with ‎the movement of her hand. Her eyes were smiling. For a second, ‎he thought that love was beckoning him through her circled lips. ‎He tried to reverse his car but he couldn’t because he was spell ‎bounded by that scene. He stared at her. His hands were still ‎holding the steering wheel. He felt that his chest couldn’t bear the ‎beatings of his heart. Taking a deep breath with difficulty, he ‎extended his hands towards her but they touched the windscreen ‎of the car only. Finally, she closed the window.‎

He closed his eyes, shook his head violently, pictured her in ‎the window, then opened his eyes, but did not find her. He was ‎astonished. “How could her image vanish from my memory so ‎quickly?” Then he heard the sound of a car coming behind him. It ‎was her father’s. “I hope, he didn’t see her waving to me.”‎

He waited until it was eight o’clock, the usual time of his ‎arrival at work, but she did not appear again. Disappointed, he ‎started his car and drove to his work. He was late. A colleague ‎asked him the reason for being late. He responded by asking, “Have ‎you ever heard of love at first sight?” “Of course I heard of it. Does ‎this mean that you have fallen in love? “,His colleague asked.‎

‎“Oh, Mohammed, she waved to me! When she laughed, the ‎nails of her love stabbed my heart. Oh, what beautiful eyes she ‎has! Excuse me. I’ve got to go and wait there. I may see her again. ‎‎“He was there at nine, waiting and reading a newspaper in his car. ‎Suddenly, he fell asleep. He woke up because of heat at eleven. At ‎twelve, he was in despair as his dream to see her turned into ashes. ‎He entered his home gloomy. Then he remembered that he even ‎didn’t have his breakfast. It was late, so he decided to have lunch. ‎

The hours of the daylight passed very slowly. During this ‎time, he had been singing some traditional lyrics. He was singing ‎from time to time, trying to recapture the image that he drew in ‎his memory, but forgot some of its details.‎

Finally, he was in bed singing. Time passed and he was still ‎awake. He asked himself, “Am I going to see her tomorrow again? ‎Of course, she knows the time I leave and she is going to wave to ‎me as she did today. “‎

He was in his car before seven. He looked at the window. ‎Then looked down when he saw her father coming out of the ‎building toward his car. Her father’s car was parked next to his. He ‎was afraid to look out of the window in case her father sees her. ‎He thought, “ I wish she doesn’t come until her father leaves.”‎

Suddenly, there she was, peeping out of the window. He ‎stared at her, and couldn’t even move the steering wheel. His ‎heart started pounding painfully. Unfortunately, she waved to her ‎father and not to him. Her father waved back, turned his car, and ‎drove away. She closed the window. He sat there thinking. He ‎looked at her window, bid his final farewell to his desperate hope ‎and drove away. He was the first one to arrive at work.‎

Written in Arabic by/ Ibrahim Alalmae’‎

Translated into English by: Dr. Iman A. Alaseery

Tears of life’s candles

Perishing in their own flames.‎

The candles’ light,‎

Dances on the walls of silence.‎

Their moaning, ‎

Dies in the echo of emotions. ‎

Their shadows,‎

Vanish in the darkness of universe.‎

Tears of life’s candles,‎

Put the curtains of mortality back,‎

On the theatre of the heart.‎

Hug the grief-stricken soul.‎

The candles’ smoke,‎

Drown in the veins of Loneliness. ‎

Tears of life’s candles,‎

Make furrows ‎

On the beaches, waiting.‎

Build ports,‎

In the ocean of thirst.‎

‎ Plant dry grass,‎

In the fields of patience.‎

Force insomnia,‎

Depart from the Island of Serenity.‎

The candles, ‎

Always weep

Repeating the ‘ Epic ‘ of death.‎

Calling the ghost of memories؛

Of a lost love, that never comes back.‎

For, they are ignorant

In the art of self- consolation.‎

The candles

Pass away,‎

After drowning in the sea of their tears.‎

For, the wind snatches

Their strength and will

To face their destiny.‎

And assure them,‎

Of the fleeting, transient life.‎

Written in Arabic and translated into English by:‎

Dr. Iman A. Alaseery