My silent Friday,
My deserted Friday,
My Friday: sad, like old abandoned lanes.
My Friday:
The cold day of ailing, idle thoughts,
Moist day of long, evil bore,
loaded with grief,
grief for my faith, for my hope,
Oh, my Friday, this renouncing day
…
Oh, this empty room,
Oh, this gloomy house…
These isolating walls from attacks of youth,
These collapsing roofs on my slight daydream of light,
In this place of lone, reflection and doubt,
In this space of shade, text, image and sign.
My life, like a mysterious river,
streamed into those silent, deserted days,
so calmly with a lot of pride.
My life, like a mysterious river,
Streamed into those empty, gloomy rooms,
so calmly with a lot of pride.
A beautiful poem and post.
ReplyDeleteAnother one of those ...
ReplyDelete... beautiful poems,Jams.
Very pensive
ReplyDeleteThis week you've been making a statement about Iran. Both of us have had several posts against Islamism and the anti labor and woman regime. That is only one aspect of Iran.
ReplyDeleteI think I'll go and kill myself now.
ReplyDeleteSorry, I'm not very appreciative of poetry!
THanks everyone. I am gla dyou liked it. Liz not everyone loves all art forms. Me I loathe jazz!
ReplyDeleteRen this is not a deliberate statement. THat said I do have a love or Iranian art and culture and this is an aspect of Iran that deserves to be highlighted.
Very poignant, life can be that way.
ReplyDeleteHer work is very poignant indeed Sukhmandir
ReplyDelete