Poetry

The Key Ring

The key chain felt heavy
Though there were only two keys
I looked back
And said
I think I won’t miss this
But I think you will miss me >>>

آنکس که نداند و نداند که نداند

آنکس که بداند و بداند که بداند
اسب خرد از گنبد گردون بجهاند
آنکس که بداند و نداند که بداند
بیدارش نمایید که بس خفته نماند
آنکس که نداند و بداند که نداند
لنگان خرک خویش به منزل برساند >>>

Faraway

On a misty day
My face feels air like the old memories…
I look back and pray, not once
But so many times, over and over
Calling your name and longing for your touch
And hoping somewhere out there … faraway,
You have closed your eyes and thinking of the one, who >>>

Shoes

What pair of shoes should I choose
For the upcoming dandy dance?
Are my feet better off in blue
Bright shoes or black buckle shoes?
What of these fancy cocktail shoes?
Look, there’s a paper stuck
To my pretty pointy shoes >>>

An Invitation

There are many ways to live
But surely one of the best must be
To search out the art of living
Contemplating truth and beauty
To retire to the society of the wise
To take time for philosophy
If you permit me, I would say
This alone is to live, and to live well >>>

Dream On

I take my prayers and start
To kneed them into creamy dreams
And from that rich texture
I will sing encapsulating songs from the void in my heart
To wrap them into bitter sweets
Then I wakefully task myself again
To taking these dreams and with them
Create a hammock that sieves my anger -into singing daffodils >>>

Haleh's Story

You love someone else, you say
I am confused and anguished for having put my guard down
Long enough to let you into my heart
I so want to be done thinking about you, so I try but
It is her I can’t get out of my mind
It is not about her looks
It is not about her youth
It is not about her figure, what has me thinking about
For what difference would any of that make? >>>

Elect is not from Electronic

I read the constitution
from end to end,
not as a lawyer
or looking to find
justification
for my own belief,
but for its simplicity
of passionate words
that strike a chord >>>

Paper spoon

This night holds me so tightly in its palm,
as if to never love another, but outside
what remains is the inheritance
and an unfriendly notice.
I fumble through the memories, recalling
promises of life, never loving another.
Softly, I wait until the lush beginning
comes to me. I am pale yet ripe, >>>

The Ambush of Mehrnoush

On the anniversary of your death
what should I call you, a gone guerrilla? The first female
Fedayee gun-downed to death in an ambush? A girl
in strife who left life for something better?
I simply remember you as mild-mannered Mehroush
my friend and classmate at Tehran U's Medical school
where we shared a corpse to dissect in the third year
and laughed our hearts out calling it Akbar Agha! >>>

Women 101

There is a little girl, bright-eyed and hopeful inside of me.

There is a young woman, with a brisk gait, a boisterous laughter, a pair of feet full of dance, and a deep curiosity about people and places never seen inside of me.

There is a sultry woman, a seductress, a mistress, a lover, full of knowing touches and promising glances and welcoming kisses inside of me.

There is a giving mother, a nurturer, and a provider inside of me.

>>>

زربفت دورنگ

شیمل در تشبیه شعر پارسی به فرش می گوید: "غزل با تصویر پردازیهای بی شمارش که فقط با قافیه به هم پیوند یافته اند، یادآور قالیچه های بسیار ظریف ایرانی است با طرح باغ که باید به تصاویر، گلها و سایر تزئیناتش در مقابل زمینه ای وسیعتر نظر انداخت. گرچه هر یک از آنها با معنی است امّا کلّ زیبائی آن هنوز بیشتر از زیبائی تک تک اجزاء آ ن است." شیمل همچنین شعر پارسی را به کاشی های رنگارنگ مساجد ایرانی تشبیه می کند و می گوید همانگونه که کاشیها در هر ساعت از روز دگرگون می نمایند و غالباً در برکه های کوچک آب منعکس می شوند که باز هم انعکاس رنگشان در آب متفاوت از رنگ آنها در خارج از آب است، بهمان سان خواننده باید که به اشعار هم در حالتهای روحی مختلف و زمانهای مختلف از زندگی نظر اندازد تا شاید بتواند منظور نهفتۀ آن را در یابد. >>>

تو دلي

توي دلت مونسم تا به حال گريه كردي ؟
اشكها قظار شده ، پنهان از چشم ديگران كردي؟
گريه با آهي پر از سكوت در دل شب
گريه با حس درد با دل خالي در نيمه شب
گريه ترس و بي هق هقه كنار معشوق
گريه سرد و پر صدا در كنار سكوت درياچه عشق
>>>

Rus

Am I the only one remembering Malinin?
concentrating to become a bird or a cat
in those thin paperbacks on cheap paper
that crumbled after just a few reading?

Or in the first alternative theater
that showed film festivals for children,
those sparse Russian shorts, in woods,
a few kids lost among leaves of maple? >>>

Treading softly

October 7th 2008 marks the 80th anniversary of the birth of one of Iran’s most celebrated modern poets, Sohrab Sepehri. On that day, hundreds of people will make their way to the lonely, remote mosque of Mashhad Ardehal, (on the desert road between Kashan and Dilijan), to pay their respects, recite poetry and lay flowers on the grave of this much-loved poet. Awaiting them will be no grand memorial tomb such as that of Hafez or Sa’adi: no pavilion with fragrant gardens, no trees to adorn and give shade. All they will see is a marble flagstone in the courtyard of the mosque (outside the women’s entrance), sometimes trodden below the feet of visitors on their way to prayer. The inscription on the stone reads:>>>