Her Sorrow - Sohrab Sepheri

Like Her Grief by Ahmad Shamlou, Sohrab Sepheri's poem is a tribute to Forough Farrokzad

She was grand.

She was a noble native of today.

She was grand.

Her realm was all boundless spheres,

And she sensed, so intensely, the ways of water and the earth.

The tone of her voice pictured

the anxious sadness of the truth.

Her eyes recalled the live direction of the roots.

And her hands, one day,

waved tender steam of generosity

and floated us in the stream of care.

She played the intimacy of her soul,

And she portrayed the straightness of her love

in all sharp bends of her time,

for the mirrors.

She was alike the rain,

full of freshness of the flow.

She was alike the tree,

spread in the ease of lights.

She was always calling early years of the breeze

And she forever tied strings of her words

to the neat relevance of rivers.

One night, for us

she spelled so plainly the green prayer of innocence

that we reached out for the kind texture of the soil

and we revived… alike refreshing accent of a pail.

Many times we saw:

with plenty of wooden baskets, she left

to gather bushes of golden plaques.

But it couldn’t be

that she’d stand in front of crystal belief of the birds.

Thus she went to the limits of naught

and laid in the wake of white serenity of the lights.

And she didn’t believe,

She didn’t believe at all,

that within revolted intonation of the gates

we would be left massively alone.

Even to taste a piece of fruit,

we are now left extremely alone.

By: Sohrab Sepehri

Translation: Maryam Dilmaghani

From the Maryam Dilmaghani's website Forough Farrokhzad - The sad little fairy