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 Throbs in our throatsIn memory of Farhad By Mersedeh Khozin September 3, 2002 The Iranian Everything will be forsaken then, The silence of the heavens will be set apart and forever apart the broken-down fields of the finished world, and apart the silence of patriotism. In the air a fleeing host of birds. And you shall see the rising sun dumb as a demented eye-pupil and calm as a watching beast. But keeping vigil in banishment because that night you cannot sleep, you toss as the tree with its thousand leaves and at dead of night I speak as the tree; Do we know the drifting of the years, the years over crumpled memories? Do we understand the wrinkle of transience? Do we comprehend your care-gnarled hands? Do we know the name of passion? Do we know what pain treads the unlifting darkness with your melodic breath? The night, the cold, the pit. Do we know the convict's head twisted askew? The sun rose. Sticks of trees blackening in the infra-red of the wrathful sky. So you depart. Facing devastation a man is walking confidently. He has nothing but everything. He has his shadow. He has his love. Evening came, and night petrified above you with its mud. Beneath closed eyelids you do not cease to guard this procession, these fevered shrubs, their tiny twigs. Leaf by leaf, the glowing little wood. Once, long-long ago Paradise stood in our land. In half-sleep, the renewal of pain; to hear its gigantic trees. Home -- you wanted finally to get home- You ghastly shadow in the courtyard. Crushed silence, and already they are coming, they are calling you, you fans, and already crying, and embracing you, stumbling- the ancient order opens to readmit you. You lean out on windy stars. You sing out your heart. Your nearness throbs in our throats. You do not speak our words, the human speech. There are birds alive who flee now heartbroken under the sky, under the fiery sky. Forlorn poles stuck in a glowing field, and our immovably burning cages. You do not understand the human speech, and you do not speak our language. You voice is more homeless than the word. You have no words. A dusty mist tumbles down through the air- a tower's body emits sounds. You are nowhere in our worth. How empty the music is. A piano chair, a garden chair left outside. Among sharp stones your clangorous shadow. You are tired. You jut out from earth.
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