When she hears his songs
The melodies rise beyond her mind,
She returns to the Alborz
Dancing beneath an autumn sky.
The moon climbs as her thoughts,
White spirits in the evening dusk.
The wind is kind to her and sends her secrets
To the one whom she trusts.
Before she said
She loved him
He knew the sighs
That left those unsteady lips,
The wandering musings
Of one who'd
Lived more lives
Than she'd care to admit.
She is no blank page to be drawn upon
She IS the sky,
Which no man can paint,
Only stare in wonder and curse at your fate.
Yearning like a soldier
Far from home,
Trying to remember the face
Of a girl you used to know.
Saturday, June 30, 2007
The One I See
Today I walked home a new way
Took some wildflowers from the path
Breathed in and cried
Memories are difficult for me.
Last night I felt in the dark
And touched your hand
You smiled, I laughed
Hope is a marvelous thing.
Tomorrow I may be dancing
If he's lucky he'll hear me singing
"Mara bebous" while I look
At the one only I can see.
Today I walked home a new way
Took some wildflowers from the path
Breathed in and cried
Memories are difficult for me.
Last night I felt in the dark
And touched your hand
You smiled, I laughed
Hope is a marvelous thing.
Tomorrow I may be dancing
If he's lucky he'll hear me singing
"Mara bebous" while I look
At the one only I can see.
Thursday, June 21, 2007
The Eternal Forugh...
If you haven't heard of Forugh Farrokhzad, I would highly recommend her poetry to you. Below are some of my favorite selections from her...hopefully too much isn't lost in translation...
The Captive ( Asir )
I want you, yet I know that never
can I embrace you to my heart's content.
you are that clear and bright sky.
I, in this corner of the cage, am a captive bird.
from behind the cold and dark bars
directing toward you my rueful look of astonishment,
I am thinking that a hand might come
and I might suddenly spread my wings in your direction.
I am thinking that in a moment of neglect
I might fly from this silent prison,
laugh in the eyes of the man who is my jailer
and beside you begin life anew.
I am thinking these things, yet I know
that I can not, dare not leave this prison.
even if the jailer would wish it,
no breath or breeze remains for my flight.
from behind the bars, every bright morning
the look of a child smile in my face;
when I begin a song of joy,
his lips come toward me with a kiss.
O sky, if I want one day
to fly from this silent prison,
what shall I say to the weeping child's eyes:
forget about me, for I am captive bird?
I am that candle which illumines a ruins
with the burning of her heart.
If I want to choose silent darkness,
I will bring a nest to ruin.
The Wall
With the cold moments of the past fleeting by,
Your wild eyes contained in your silent demeanor
build a wall around me
And I flee from you to a pathless path.
Until I see valleys on the moons dirt
Until I wash my body in the water fountains of light
In a colorful fog of a warm summer morning
I’ll fill my skirt with lilies from the fields
And hear the roar of roosters from the village rooftops
I’m fleeing from you to the very skirts of the valley
Where I’ll press my feet to the ground
Until they sip dewdrops of grass
I’m fleeing from you to a deserted beach
Where on the lost boulders beneath dark clouds
I’ll learn the twisting dance of the ocean’s hurricane
In a far off sunset, like wild doves
I’ll see fields, mountains, and the sky beneath my feet.
And in the midst of dry bushes I’ll hear
the blissful music of field birds.
I’m fleeing from you until I open the path
To the city of desires
And in that city…
The castle of dreams will have a heavy golden lock
But your eyes with their silent scream
Will blur my vision
Like your dark secrets that
Build a wall around me.
At last one day…
I’ll flee from the illusion of conceiving doubt
And I’ll radiate like a perfume from
the colorful flower of dreams
And I’ll diffuse into the wavy hair of night’s zephyr
And travel to the very beaches of the Sun
In a silent world, within an eternity of calmness.
I’ll gently rock on a bed of golden-colored clouds
That extends hand like rays toward the serene sky
As if playing a song.
It is there where I am happy and free
And I weave memories of this world
Because your bewitching eyes
Find my eyes
And blur my vision
Like your dark secrets
That build a wall around me.
Border Walls
Now, again in the silent night,
sequestrant walls, border walls
like plants entwine,
so they may be the guardians of my love.
Now, again the town's evil murmurs,
like agitated schools of fish,
flee the darkness of my extremities.
Now, again windows rediscover themselves
in the pleasure of contact with scattered perfumes,
and trees, in slumberous orchards, shed their bark,
and soil, with its thousand inlets
inhales the dizzy particles of the moon.
***
Now
come closer
and listen
to the anguished beats of my love,
that spread
like the tom-tom of African drums
along the tribe of my limbs.
I, feel.
I know
which moment
is the moment of prayer.
Now stars
are lovers.
In night's refuge,
from innermost breezes, I waft.
In night's refuge, I
tumble madly forth
with my ample tresses, in your palms,
and I offer you the equatorial flowers of this young tropic.
Come with me,
come to that star with me
that is centuries away
from earth's concretion and futile scales,
and no one there
is afraid of light.
On islands adrift upon the waters, I breathe.
I am in search of a share in the expansive sky,
void of the swell of vile thoughts.
Refer with me,
refer with me
to the source of all being,
to the sanctified center of a single origin,
to the moment I was created from you
refer with me,
I am not complete from you.
Now,
on the peaks of my breasts,
doves are flying.
Now,
within the cocoon of my lips,
butterfly kisses are immersed in thoughts of flight.
Now,
the altar of my body
is ready for love's worship.
Refer with me,
I'm powerless to speak
because I love you,
because "I love you" is a phrase
from the world of futilities
and antiquities and redundancies.
Refer with me,
I'm powerless to speak.
In night's refuge, let me make love to the moon,
let me be filled
with tiny raindrops,
with undeveloped hearts,
with the volume of the unborn,
let me be filled.
Maybe my love
will cradle the birth of another Christ.
Translated by Layli Arbab Shirani (2/96)
The Wind-Up Doll
More than this, yes
more than this one can stay silent.
With a fixed gaze
like that of the dead
one can stare for long hours
at the smoke rising from a cigarette
at the shape of a cup
at a faded flower on the rug
at a fading slogan on the wall.
One can draw back the drapes
with wrinkled fingers and watch
rain falling heavy in the alley
a child standing in a doorway
holding colorful kites
a rickety cart leaving the deserted square
in a noisy rush
One can stand motionless
by the drapes—blind, deaf.
One can cry out
with a voice quite false, quite remote
“I love…”
in a man’s domineering arms
one can be a healthy, beautiful female
With a body like a leather tablecloth
with two large and hard breasts,
in bed with a drunk, a madman, a tramp
one can stain the innocence of love.
One can degrade with guile
all the deep mysteries
one can keep on figuring out crossword puzzles
happily discover the inane answers
inane answers, yes—of five or six letters.
With bent head, one can
kneel a lifetime before the cold gilded grill of a tomb
one can find God in a nameless grave
one can trade one’s faith for a worthless coin
one can mold in the corner of a mosque
like an ancient reciter of pilgrim’s prayers.
one can be constant, like zero
whether adding, subtracting, or multiplying.
one can think of your --even your—eyes
in their cocoo of anger
as lusterless holes in a time-worn shoe.
one can dry up in one’s basin, like water.
With shame one can hide the beauty of a moment’s togetherness
at the bottom of a chest
like an old, funny looking snapshot,
in a day’s empty frame one can display
the picture of an execution, a crucifixion, or a martyrdom,
One can cover the crack in the wall with a mask
one can cope with images more hollow than these.
One can be like a wind-up doll
and look at the world with eyes of glass,
one can lie for years in lace and tinsel
a body stuffed with straw
inside a felt-lined box,
at every lustful touch
for no reason at all
one can give out a cry
“Ah, so happy am I!”’
If you haven't heard of Forugh Farrokhzad, I would highly recommend her poetry to you. Below are some of my favorite selections from her...hopefully too much isn't lost in translation...
The Captive ( Asir )
I want you, yet I know that never
can I embrace you to my heart's content.
you are that clear and bright sky.
I, in this corner of the cage, am a captive bird.
from behind the cold and dark bars
directing toward you my rueful look of astonishment,
I am thinking that a hand might come
and I might suddenly spread my wings in your direction.
I am thinking that in a moment of neglect
I might fly from this silent prison,
laugh in the eyes of the man who is my jailer
and beside you begin life anew.
I am thinking these things, yet I know
that I can not, dare not leave this prison.
even if the jailer would wish it,
no breath or breeze remains for my flight.
from behind the bars, every bright morning
the look of a child smile in my face;
when I begin a song of joy,
his lips come toward me with a kiss.
O sky, if I want one day
to fly from this silent prison,
what shall I say to the weeping child's eyes:
forget about me, for I am captive bird?
I am that candle which illumines a ruins
with the burning of her heart.
If I want to choose silent darkness,
I will bring a nest to ruin.
The Wall
With the cold moments of the past fleeting by,
Your wild eyes contained in your silent demeanor
build a wall around me
And I flee from you to a pathless path.
Until I see valleys on the moons dirt
Until I wash my body in the water fountains of light
In a colorful fog of a warm summer morning
I’ll fill my skirt with lilies from the fields
And hear the roar of roosters from the village rooftops
I’m fleeing from you to the very skirts of the valley
Where I’ll press my feet to the ground
Until they sip dewdrops of grass
I’m fleeing from you to a deserted beach
Where on the lost boulders beneath dark clouds
I’ll learn the twisting dance of the ocean’s hurricane
In a far off sunset, like wild doves
I’ll see fields, mountains, and the sky beneath my feet.
And in the midst of dry bushes I’ll hear
the blissful music of field birds.
I’m fleeing from you until I open the path
To the city of desires
And in that city…
The castle of dreams will have a heavy golden lock
But your eyes with their silent scream
Will blur my vision
Like your dark secrets that
Build a wall around me.
At last one day…
I’ll flee from the illusion of conceiving doubt
And I’ll radiate like a perfume from
the colorful flower of dreams
And I’ll diffuse into the wavy hair of night’s zephyr
And travel to the very beaches of the Sun
In a silent world, within an eternity of calmness.
I’ll gently rock on a bed of golden-colored clouds
That extends hand like rays toward the serene sky
As if playing a song.
It is there where I am happy and free
And I weave memories of this world
Because your bewitching eyes
Find my eyes
And blur my vision
Like your dark secrets
That build a wall around me.
Border Walls
Now, again in the silent night,
sequestrant walls, border walls
like plants entwine,
so they may be the guardians of my love.
Now, again the town's evil murmurs,
like agitated schools of fish,
flee the darkness of my extremities.
Now, again windows rediscover themselves
in the pleasure of contact with scattered perfumes,
and trees, in slumberous orchards, shed their bark,
and soil, with its thousand inlets
inhales the dizzy particles of the moon.
***
Now
come closer
and listen
to the anguished beats of my love,
that spread
like the tom-tom of African drums
along the tribe of my limbs.
I, feel.
I know
which moment
is the moment of prayer.
Now stars
are lovers.
In night's refuge,
from innermost breezes, I waft.
In night's refuge, I
tumble madly forth
with my ample tresses, in your palms,
and I offer you the equatorial flowers of this young tropic.
Come with me,
come to that star with me
that is centuries away
from earth's concretion and futile scales,
and no one there
is afraid of light.
On islands adrift upon the waters, I breathe.
I am in search of a share in the expansive sky,
void of the swell of vile thoughts.
Refer with me,
refer with me
to the source of all being,
to the sanctified center of a single origin,
to the moment I was created from you
refer with me,
I am not complete from you.
Now,
on the peaks of my breasts,
doves are flying.
Now,
within the cocoon of my lips,
butterfly kisses are immersed in thoughts of flight.
Now,
the altar of my body
is ready for love's worship.
Refer with me,
I'm powerless to speak
because I love you,
because "I love you" is a phrase
from the world of futilities
and antiquities and redundancies.
Refer with me,
I'm powerless to speak.
In night's refuge, let me make love to the moon,
let me be filled
with tiny raindrops,
with undeveloped hearts,
with the volume of the unborn,
let me be filled.
Maybe my love
will cradle the birth of another Christ.
Translated by Layli Arbab Shirani (2/96)
The Wind-Up Doll
More than this, yes
more than this one can stay silent.
With a fixed gaze
like that of the dead
one can stare for long hours
at the smoke rising from a cigarette
at the shape of a cup
at a faded flower on the rug
at a fading slogan on the wall.
One can draw back the drapes
with wrinkled fingers and watch
rain falling heavy in the alley
a child standing in a doorway
holding colorful kites
a rickety cart leaving the deserted square
in a noisy rush
One can stand motionless
by the drapes—blind, deaf.
One can cry out
with a voice quite false, quite remote
“I love…”
in a man’s domineering arms
one can be a healthy, beautiful female
With a body like a leather tablecloth
with two large and hard breasts,
in bed with a drunk, a madman, a tramp
one can stain the innocence of love.
One can degrade with guile
all the deep mysteries
one can keep on figuring out crossword puzzles
happily discover the inane answers
inane answers, yes—of five or six letters.
With bent head, one can
kneel a lifetime before the cold gilded grill of a tomb
one can find God in a nameless grave
one can trade one’s faith for a worthless coin
one can mold in the corner of a mosque
like an ancient reciter of pilgrim’s prayers.
one can be constant, like zero
whether adding, subtracting, or multiplying.
one can think of your --even your—eyes
in their cocoo of anger
as lusterless holes in a time-worn shoe.
one can dry up in one’s basin, like water.
With shame one can hide the beauty of a moment’s togetherness
at the bottom of a chest
like an old, funny looking snapshot,
in a day’s empty frame one can display
the picture of an execution, a crucifixion, or a martyrdom,
One can cover the crack in the wall with a mask
one can cope with images more hollow than these.
One can be like a wind-up doll
and look at the world with eyes of glass,
one can lie for years in lace and tinsel
a body stuffed with straw
inside a felt-lined box,
at every lustful touch
for no reason at all
one can give out a cry
“Ah, so happy am I!”’
Saturday, April 07, 2007
A NEAR ESCAPE
The north wind
whispered a secret
to me this morn
a story of near escape
a half-death of lovers
a sorrow beyond words
tell her she's ready for happiness
say that I heard her story
and understand the message
The season is changing
Her mourning garment's no longer needed
And neither is her cage
She's just around that bend
The north wind sighed and then said
But she has grown accustomed
To the bars and for that, I have no cure
But to whisper in others' ears
the story of her near escape
The north wind
whispered a secret
to me this morn
a story of near escape
a half-death of lovers
a sorrow beyond words
tell her she's ready for happiness
say that I heard her story
and understand the message
The season is changing
Her mourning garment's no longer needed
And neither is her cage
She's just around that bend
The north wind sighed and then said
But she has grown accustomed
To the bars and for that, I have no cure
But to whisper in others' ears
the story of her near escape
Friday, March 16, 2007
Have you ever loved?
Ever died trying
And with your last breath
Just sighed from it all?
Have you ever felt
The depths of your own heart
Fight the rationale
And return to lying?
Have you ever
Brazenly
Mistakenly forgotten
From whose loins you came?
I would say yes
But then again
I cannot even remember
my own name.
I am not the only one
To blame
This thick, black cloud
Pushes me to flight.
Ever died trying
And with your last breath
Just sighed from it all?
Have you ever felt
The depths of your own heart
Fight the rationale
And return to lying?
Have you ever
Brazenly
Mistakenly forgotten
From whose loins you came?
I would say yes
But then again
I cannot even remember
my own name.
I am not the only one
To blame
This thick, black cloud
Pushes me to flight.
Tuesday, January 16, 2007
Is Anything Worse?
You wish and want
More than you should
Crying at the moon
And digging your hands
Into this sand.
A desert
Of your own design
Nothing to say
To bring her back.
She loved a man
Who chose his sorrow
Over her.
Is anything worse
Than a woman scorned?
Like those before her
She dug and sweat
In wells which brought
No life.
Only realizing it too late
Did you decide to try
And dig along with her.
Yet while your hands
crept near hers
Her gaping heart
could not have been farther.
A woman can only take so much
Knowing she is not enough
To summon your courage
Is the surest way to end her.
You wish and want
More than you should
Crying at the moon
And digging your hands
Into this sand.
A desert
Of your own design
Nothing to say
To bring her back.
She loved a man
Who chose his sorrow
Over her.
Is anything worse
Than a woman scorned?
Like those before her
She dug and sweat
In wells which brought
No life.
Only realizing it too late
Did you decide to try
And dig along with her.
Yet while your hands
crept near hers
Her gaping heart
could not have been farther.
A woman can only take so much
Knowing she is not enough
To summon your courage
Is the surest way to end her.
Saturday, January 13, 2007
When Love Begins
When does it start?
That first tug at your heart
When her eyes transcend green to
aurora borealis staring back at you?
When golden brown takes on
an entirely new meaning
As you watch the sunlight
caress her head
When does love begin?
When you cannot bear
the thought of living without
her laugh, her face, her heart?
I do not know
I can only tell you
That when it does happen
It will not end with death,
Searing words or the famine
Of distance.
Indeed, nothing was sweeter than
The day he took my hand
Bowed in utter helplessness
and passion.
His words, only for me, only for me.
My words, only for him, only for him now.
When does love begin?
Will it ever end?
Don't ponder it any more
The night is passing
Go dance with her.
When does it start?
That first tug at your heart
When her eyes transcend green to
aurora borealis staring back at you?
When golden brown takes on
an entirely new meaning
As you watch the sunlight
caress her head
When does love begin?
When you cannot bear
the thought of living without
her laugh, her face, her heart?
I do not know
I can only tell you
That when it does happen
It will not end with death,
Searing words or the famine
Of distance.
Indeed, nothing was sweeter than
The day he took my hand
Bowed in utter helplessness
and passion.
His words, only for me, only for me.
My words, only for him, only for him now.
When does love begin?
Will it ever end?
Don't ponder it any more
The night is passing
Go dance with her.
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