Translation of three poems from the album Âwât by Shadi Fathi & Bijan Chemirani
Published on 26-09-2022
Khâb o Khiyâl (Houshang Ebtehaj)
She came, touched our heart and went away.
She lifted the curtain from this sad house, and went away.
She brightened our lonely corner with a dream.
She spread the dream of the sun in the eyes of the longest night of the year (Yalda)
She saw our painful need of love and took pity
She put the fire of passion to this enduring soul and went away.
What use to her was our scorched harvest?
She came down like a thunderbolt, burned everything and went away.
She went away, ignoring the typhoon of our tears
How fearless she was, O God, venturing into the sea!
Would she remember the foolish lover?
She who locked the passionate heart in chains.
O Sayeh, what did those black eyes tell you that night?
To make reason scream so and go wandering in the desert
Hitchestan (Sohrab Sepehri)
If you come looking for me, I will be in Hitchestan, the Land of Nowhere.
The veins of the air blow thistles there
Messengers of flowers blooming at the boundary.
The sand still bears the hoof prints of horses
Who under dashing riders have at dawn
Crossed dizzying heights.
The umbrella of desire unfolds,
Open for ever.
And in this solitude
The shadow of the elm stretches to eternity.
So if you come to seek me there,
Come slowly and gently
For fear that you scratch
The porcelain of my solitude.
Khayyam (Omar Khayyâm)
If I held the sky in the palm of my hand,
I'd break it up, that sky, well and truly,
To build another so new that the free and light-hearted fellow
Can go there and gather, unimpeded, all that his heart desires
How long will my anxiety gnaw away, asking if I have it or not?
Shall I pass from life to death light-hearted and carefree, or not?
Fill this cup with wine, for it is neither said nor certain
That this breath I take, still living I exhale
Traduction: Roger Surridge