04 September 2010

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 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 Fairy


Claude said...

Thank you, Jams.

jams o donnell said...

She was superb, eh?

Claude said...

She is so deeply poignant. And honest. The last two lines are joyful, then tragic. She was so young, yet so illusionless. Her descriptions are enchanting.

CherryPie said...

Beautiful :-)

jams o donnell said...

Thank you Claude, I wish that she had lived longer. It would be a joy to read more of her work

Her work is absolutely beautiful Cherie

nursemyra said...

She writes like an angel

jams o donnell said...

And now she is one sadly

Sean Jeating said...

[Probably I did not not notice that I had entered a wrong character; anyway, my earlier comment seems to have vanished. - This time I'll cut it short, but type the characters correctly.]
Fine peace of poetry.