All Of The Poet’s Pain
With broken shoulder, broken leg, and a bruised frame,
the Poet lays in bed,
in a hospital, in a small town, in a place called “No Where” land,
but this is not all of the Poet’s pain
He says, he is seven-hundred thirty even though he is seventy-three
His pain is too much to abide by the nurses’ decree
but still, he says, he is well
He says, suddenly I could not feel my legs
I was floating in the air,
as it happened, broken bones everywhere
He says, in the summer of this “No Where” land,
in an untimely split second,
didn’t understand what happened
But, he still remembers,
in a hot summer day in Mashhad,
the 9th day, of the 4th month, of the 7th year, of the 2nd decade, of the 13th century,
he was born, and remained a true Mashhadi the rest of the time
He studied his books
“Impatiently” wrote poems, and published them in a book,
in that same Mashhad that he was born,
and regretted publishing the book ever since,
in that same Mashhad that he was born
He went on to a university in Tehran,
and then he went abroad
He studied philosophy, and learned how to think,
He studied it to a very high degree
Back then, “No Where” was not a foreign land
It was a place of enlightenment,
and then returning home to the motherland…
He returned home,
taught philosophy,
and wrote poetry books,
wrote many articles,
and struggled till the Revolution,
and then the Cultural Revolution!
He had “leftist” ideas, so he was doomed,
persecuted by the goons.
The Poet picked up all his homeland’s pain,
and went on his way to the “No Where” land
He wrote poems once again,
and talked about his pain,
and recited poems till today,
in a hospital,
laying beside those who don’t know of his name,
don’t know of his tongue,
nor know of the poet’s fame
In this hospital,
this Poet lays in bed,
waiting for news of his homeland, still
like he always has, and he always will
He is now drained,
because of his pain,
but still,
in this far away “No Where” land,
his first question to those visiting him is this,
“What news of Iran do you bring?”
and then, forgets his own pain
His eyes sparkle when he asks,
for every news of Iran, big and small
with analysis and details,
over and over again
Somewhere miles away, the Poet’s pains still remain
Footnote: Esmail Khoi, Iranian poet, is hospitalized in a small town near London, originally reported in BBC in Farsi by pros by Hassan Solhjoo.
