The Wind Will Take Us

It's been a while since I posted a poem by Forough Farrokhzad

The Wind Will Take Us
In my small night, ah
the wind has a date with the leaves of the trees
in my small night there is agony of destruction
listen
do you hear the darkness blowing?
I look upon this bliss as a stranger
I am addicted to my despair.

listen do you hear the darkness blowing?
something is passing in the night
the moon is restless and red
and over this rooftop
where crumbling is a constant fear
clouds, like a procession of mourners
seem to be waiting for the moment of rain.
a moment
and then nothing
night shudders beyond this window
and the earth winds to a halt
beyond this window
something unknown is watching you and me.

O green from head to foot
place your hands like a burning memory
in my loving hands
give your lips to the caresses
of my loving lips
like the warm perception of being
the wind will take us
the wind will take us.


Translated by Ahmad Karimi Hakkak

I know I've posted this poem before but it is one of my favourite poems so here it is again.

The poem and several other works by Forough Farrokhzad can be found hereSource URL: http://idontwanttobeanythingotherthanme.blogspot.com/search/label/iranian%20poetry
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Forough Farrokhzad - In the green lake of summer

In the Green Lake of Summer

In the green lake of summer,

lonelier than a leaf,

with my pack of olden joy,

I slowly ride to the land of void.



In the cold shore of fall,

I gave into the pale shade of pines:

This shade of fleeting loves

This shade of brief laughs

This shaking blind of life…



At nights,

while this down roof, the sad sky, is tapped

by the cold breath of a wandering breeze;



At nights,

when a wide, wounded haze is poured

in the blue lanes of our drained veins;



At nights,

at nights of our intimate meets

with bouncing vibration of our souls

a sore feel of life is heaved

only in pounds of our pulse;

an odd, ailing feel of life.



“The hopeful core of the vales is loaded by painful secrets.”

This saying is carved on firm face of peaks.

This saying is carved by whom that one night

all at once, sliced this constant silence of the mounts

by sharp echo of their truthful shouts.



“I like this calm in the lonely heart of the remains.”

A woman recited this verse,

in the green lake of summer.



A woman rhymed this chant,

with all swings of tides,

a women who occupied for a while,

that deserted deepness of the wild.



She sang:

"We poison each other

with warmth of our every word:

this toxic air of delight of life.



We are scared of the parched song of waft.

We are faded in the dark fright of doubt.



We are shaking, shaking, shaking

in daydreaming nightmare of collapse of roof

on the secret, golden garden of our love."



"Now you are with me,

Now you are with me:

Expanded, spread like fine scent of rose

in neat lanes of dawn.



Now you are with me,

intense on my chest

burning in my hands

fainting, blazing, mad,

all over my curls,

Now I am with you."



"Something,

Something massive of darkness, of shades

Confusing, unclear, vague,

like an onwards hymn of the old days

is rotating, inflating in front of my closing eyes:



I feel being spent, cornered, captured,

far from my lakes,

distant from my boat,

after the final gates…

I feel…scared."



" We had grown on this vain side of turf.

We met with that flying white knight of void,

ruling over all tads of routes."





"We are content, glad and calm.

And we are still, sad and silent.



We are content since we are indeed in love,

We are cheerless because in fact love is doomed."



Translated by Maryam Dilmaghani and appearing on her superb website on Forough Farrokhzad The Sad Little FairySource URL: http://idontwanttobeanythingotherthanme.blogspot.com/search/label/iranian%20poetry
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Imagery of the Iran-Iraq War

Touched and deranged,
downcast and sad;
with veilless face,
and no chador;
heedless of arrest,
careless of the Guards.
For eyes she has
two red grapes
fallen off the bunch.
She's mad,
stark staring mad;
she's lost,
lost to herself,
lost to the world.
A straw in the wind,
she's drifting around.
A graveless body,
she's deadened to the world.
Round her neck she has
a pair of teardrops, a curse:
of a dead soldier boots
with laces tied together.
"What's that?", I said.
"My son", she said,
"sitting on my shoulders
with his boots on."


I have posted the painting and the poem before but never together. THe painting is by Minoo Emami. It is inspired by her husband's experience in the war. He was seriously injured fighting the Iraqis. One of his legs was amputated.

The poem is The Necklace by Simin Behbahani, the Lioness of Iran. The last time I posted the poem in 2008 one of the comments made was "Jesus, that was DARK!!". I agree, In my mind it is as powerful as any of the works of Wilfred Owen.

I wanted to see how these two powerful indictments of war went together. I think they work together, others may not of course!Source URL: http://idontwanttobeanythingotherthanme.blogspot.com/search/label/iranian%20poetry
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