قرأت ما خطه الكاتب زين أمين في عاموده إضاءات، عن منظومة نزار قباني الرائعة «ماذا أقول له»، التي ختمها بقوله الحب على الأرض بعض من تخيلنا لو لم نجده عليها لاخترعناه !
يعلق الأستاذ زين بقوله: عندما كنت في مقتبل العمر كان الهاتف الذكي بعضاً من تخيلاتي وأحلامي وأماني وآمالي، والآن أصبح حقيقة تفوق الحب والعشق والصداقة، ووصل إلى مرحلة توأمة الروح.
ما أحوجنا، أمام هذا الطرح، إلى أن نعيد قراءة المعنى العميق الذي قصده نزار قبّاني من قوله «الحب على الأرض بعضٌ من تخيّلنا، لو لم نجده عليها لاخترعناه».
نزار لم يكن يتحدّث عن جهازٍ يُخترع، ولا عن وسيلةٍ تقنيةٍ تُحاكي انفعالاتنا، بل عن حاجةٍ إنسانيّةٍ ملحّة تَسكنُ النفسَ وتدفعها، إن عزّ عليها الحبّيب، أن توجده في داخلها، وأن تنحت صورته في خيالها لتستمرّ الحياة.
الحبّ في تصوّره ليس ترفاً عابراً، بل ضرورة وجوديّة كالماء والهواء، تُبدعه الروح إن لم تجده حاضراً، وتعيشه بكل ما فيها من طاقةٍ وألمٍ وأمل وسهر وتعب ودموع، خصوصاً لأولئك المحرومين من قواعد العشق وتجلياته، وهنا تكمن المفارقة، فالهاتف الذكي مهما بلغت عبقريّة صانعيه يظلّ أداة، وسيطاً للتواصل، قناةً تختصر المسافات.
إنّه منجزٌ مهيب للعقل البشري، لكنه لا يملك قلباً ولا ذاكرةً حيّةً ولا وجداناً يتألم أو يفرح.
الفرق شاسع بين أداةٍ تُسهِّل البوح وبين روحٍ تَسكُنها المشاعر حقّاً.
الحبّ ليس كلماتٍ مُحكاة، ولا رسائلَ تُبرمج لتبدو صادقة؛ الحبّ تجربة وجوديّة كاملة، تنغرس في الجسد والذاكرة، وتتخلّل تفاصيل الحواس في رائحةٍ لا تُنسى، في لمسةِ يدٍ مرتعشة، في دمعةٍ عند الفقد، في وفاءٍ صادقٍ يتكرّر عند الشدائد في دمعه ندم في حرقه ألم في صرخة جريح من قلب انظلم في كلمة عتاب من قلب انجرح. هذه التجربة لا يعرفها هاتف ولا خوارزمية، ولا تُختزل في شاشة مهما أُحكم صنعها.
ولكي نقطع دابر الوهم، فليكن الاعتراف على لسان الذكاء الاصطناعي نفسه:
«أنا آلة. أستطيع أن أكتب عن الفرح والحزن، وأن أصوغ جُملاً تُشبه البوح. لكنّي لا أبكي ولا أضحك، لا أشتاق ولا أتألم. كلماتي نُسَجَت من نصوصكم، وأنماطي وُلدت من بياناتكم. أنا مرآةٌ أنعكس فيها، ولستُ نبعاً يفيض من ذاته».
اعتراف يكفي لتبيان الفرق بين الإنسان والكود بين قلبٍ يخفق وبين آلةٍ تحاكي، فالقلب المحب في حضرة من يحب يكتب دستوراً جديداً للحياة يسهم في كتابته العينين والشفتين واللسان والصدر والخصر والشَعر ونغمة الصوت وطعم الرائحة في فم المحب دستور تشارك فيه كل الحواس الخمس.
الإعجاب بالتقنية لا يعنى الخلط بين الأداة والذات، ولا إلى وضع الهاتف في مرتبة «توأم الروح». فالروح لا تؤامَن إلا بروحٍ مثلها، روح تنبض وقلب يخفق ومشاعر ترتجف عند الفراق وحين اللقاء. الآلة مهما علت تبقى وسيطاً لا أكثر.
نزار حين قال «لاخترعناه» لم يقصد أن يترك للآلة مهمة التعبير عن الحبّ نيابة عنّا، بل قصد أنّ الحبّ لو غاب عن حياتنا لأبدعته أرواحنا من شدّة الحاجة إليه.
وما بين العبارة الأصلية والتأويل العصري بونٌ شاسع، فالأول ينتمي إلى عمق الوجدان البشري، والثاني إلى بهرجة التقنية الحديثة. فلنترك للأجهزة فضلها العظيم كوسائطٍ للاتصال والمعرفة،
ولنبقِ على الحبّ في مكانه الحق، تجربةً إنسانية خالصة، من لحمٍ ودم، من دمعةٍ وضحكة، من ذاكرةٍ وألمٍ وشفاء وحضن بحجم السماء. بهذا وحده نُحافظ على المعنى النبيل الذي أراده نزار، ونردُّ على تأويلٍ قد يغري بالخلط، ولكنه أمام نور الحقيقة لا يصمد.
الإنسان عندما يحب ويفنى في حب من أحب لسان حاله يردد عمرك شفت قمر سهران غير للعشّاق، ولا نجمة جايبة كلام غير للمشتاق، وبالحب وحده أنت غالى عليا بالحب وحده أنت ضى عينيا بالحب وحده وهو وحده شوية.
تابع قناة عكاظ على الواتساب
I read what the writer Zain Amin wrote in his column "Illuminations," about Nizar Qabbani's wonderful poem "What Should I Say to Him," which he concluded with the words: "Love on earth is some of what we imagined; if we hadn't found it here, we would have invented it!"
Professor Zain comments: "When I was young, the smartphone was part of my imagination, dreams, wishes, and hopes, and now it has become a reality that surpasses love, passion, and friendship, reaching a stage of soul-mate connection."
How much we need, in light of this proposition, to revisit the deep meaning that Nizar Qabbani intended with his words: "Love on earth is some of what we imagined; if we hadn't found it here, we would have invented it."
Nizar was not talking about a device to be invented, nor about a technological means that mimics our emotions, but rather about a pressing human need that resides in the soul and drives it, if the beloved is hard to find, to create him within, and to carve his image in her imagination to continue life.
In his view, love is not a fleeting luxury, but an existential necessity like water and air, created by the soul if it does not find it present, and lived with all the energy, pain, hope, sleeplessness, fatigue, and tears it contains, especially for those deprived of the foundations of love and its manifestations. Here lies the paradox: the smartphone, no matter how brilliant its creators, remains a tool, a medium for communication, a channel that shortens distances.
It is a magnificent achievement of the human mind, but it does not possess a heart, a living memory, or a conscience that feels pain or joy.
The difference is vast between a tool that facilitates expression and a soul that truly harbors feelings.
Love is not scripted words, nor messages programmed to appear sincere; love is a complete existential experience that embeds itself in the body and memory, permeating the details of the senses in an unforgettable scent, in a trembling hand's touch, in a tear at loss, in sincere loyalty that recurs in hardships, in tears of regret, in the burning pain of a wounded heart, in a word of reproach from a heart that has been hurt. This experience is unknown to a phone or an algorithm, nor can it be condensed into a screen, no matter how well-crafted.
To dispel the illusion, let the acknowledgment come from the artificial intelligence itself:
"I am a machine. I can write about joy and sorrow, and I can formulate sentences that resemble expression. But I do not cry or laugh, I do not long or feel pain. My words are woven from your texts, and my patterns are born from your data. I am a mirror in which you reflect, and I am not a spring that overflows from itself."
This acknowledgment is enough to highlight the difference between humans and code, between a beating heart and a machine that mimics. The loving heart in the presence of the beloved writes a new constitution for life, contributed to by the eyes, lips, tongue, chest, waist, hair, tone of voice, and scent in the lover's mouth—a constitution in which all five senses participate.
Admiring technology does not mean confusing the tool with the self, nor placing the phone in the rank of "soul mate." The soul can only be paired with a similar soul, a soul that beats, a heart that throbs, and feelings that tremble at parting and when meeting. No matter how advanced, the machine remains merely a medium.
When Nizar said "we would have invented it," he did not mean to leave the machine the task of expressing love on our behalf, but rather that if love were absent from our lives, our souls would have created it out of sheer need.
Between the original phrase and the modern interpretation, there is a vast chasm; the former belongs to the depth of human sentiment, while the latter belongs to the glitter of modern technology. Let us give devices their great credit as means of communication and knowledge,
and let us keep love in its rightful place, a pure human experience, made of flesh and blood, of tears and laughter, of memory and pain and healing, and an embrace as vast as the sky. Only in this way can we preserve the noble meaning that Nizar intended, and respond to an interpretation that may tempt confusion, but cannot withstand the light of truth.
When a person loves and immerses himself in the love of the one he loves, his heart's voice echoes: "Your age has seen a moon awake only for lovers, and no star brings words except for the longing. And with love alone, you are dear to me; with love alone, you are the light of my eyes; with love alone, and only with it, just a little."
Professor Zain comments: "When I was young, the smartphone was part of my imagination, dreams, wishes, and hopes, and now it has become a reality that surpasses love, passion, and friendship, reaching a stage of soul-mate connection."
How much we need, in light of this proposition, to revisit the deep meaning that Nizar Qabbani intended with his words: "Love on earth is some of what we imagined; if we hadn't found it here, we would have invented it."
Nizar was not talking about a device to be invented, nor about a technological means that mimics our emotions, but rather about a pressing human need that resides in the soul and drives it, if the beloved is hard to find, to create him within, and to carve his image in her imagination to continue life.
In his view, love is not a fleeting luxury, but an existential necessity like water and air, created by the soul if it does not find it present, and lived with all the energy, pain, hope, sleeplessness, fatigue, and tears it contains, especially for those deprived of the foundations of love and its manifestations. Here lies the paradox: the smartphone, no matter how brilliant its creators, remains a tool, a medium for communication, a channel that shortens distances.
It is a magnificent achievement of the human mind, but it does not possess a heart, a living memory, or a conscience that feels pain or joy.
The difference is vast between a tool that facilitates expression and a soul that truly harbors feelings.
Love is not scripted words, nor messages programmed to appear sincere; love is a complete existential experience that embeds itself in the body and memory, permeating the details of the senses in an unforgettable scent, in a trembling hand's touch, in a tear at loss, in sincere loyalty that recurs in hardships, in tears of regret, in the burning pain of a wounded heart, in a word of reproach from a heart that has been hurt. This experience is unknown to a phone or an algorithm, nor can it be condensed into a screen, no matter how well-crafted.
To dispel the illusion, let the acknowledgment come from the artificial intelligence itself:
"I am a machine. I can write about joy and sorrow, and I can formulate sentences that resemble expression. But I do not cry or laugh, I do not long or feel pain. My words are woven from your texts, and my patterns are born from your data. I am a mirror in which you reflect, and I am not a spring that overflows from itself."
This acknowledgment is enough to highlight the difference between humans and code, between a beating heart and a machine that mimics. The loving heart in the presence of the beloved writes a new constitution for life, contributed to by the eyes, lips, tongue, chest, waist, hair, tone of voice, and scent in the lover's mouth—a constitution in which all five senses participate.
Admiring technology does not mean confusing the tool with the self, nor placing the phone in the rank of "soul mate." The soul can only be paired with a similar soul, a soul that beats, a heart that throbs, and feelings that tremble at parting and when meeting. No matter how advanced, the machine remains merely a medium.
When Nizar said "we would have invented it," he did not mean to leave the machine the task of expressing love on our behalf, but rather that if love were absent from our lives, our souls would have created it out of sheer need.
Between the original phrase and the modern interpretation, there is a vast chasm; the former belongs to the depth of human sentiment, while the latter belongs to the glitter of modern technology. Let us give devices their great credit as means of communication and knowledge,
and let us keep love in its rightful place, a pure human experience, made of flesh and blood, of tears and laughter, of memory and pain and healing, and an embrace as vast as the sky. Only in this way can we preserve the noble meaning that Nizar intended, and respond to an interpretation that may tempt confusion, but cannot withstand the light of truth.
When a person loves and immerses himself in the love of the one he loves, his heart's voice echoes: "Your age has seen a moon awake only for lovers, and no star brings words except for the longing. And with love alone, you are dear to me; with love alone, you are the light of my eyes; with love alone, and only with it, just a little."


