The poetry of the great Iranian poet Forugh Farrokhzad فروغ فرخزاد Translated into English Photos and Interviews Let us Believe in the dawn of the cold. Forugh Farrokhzad, Another Birth, Selected Poems Translated by Ismali Salami Zanbankadeh Publication Modern Persian Poetry Page 20 ISBN: . Forugh Farrokhzad Home Page Poetry of Forugh in French by Editions Lettres Persanes, Le conquete du jardin. Publication of Selected.
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What is silence, what is it, my trusted friend? And in the hollow of my ink-stained palms swallows will make their nest. Talk to me What else would the one offering the kindness of a live flesh want from you?
My whole being is a dark farrohzad which will carry you perpetuating you to the dawn of eternal growths and blossoming in this chant I sighed you sighed in this chant I grafted you to the tree to the water to the fire.
Did you read them? Look, how heavy time stands here and how the fish nibble on my flesh. Time passed, time passed and the clock stuck four times, struck four times.
I know a sad little fairy who lives in an ocean and ever so softly plays her heart into a magic flute a sad little fairy who dies with one kiss each night and is reborn with one kiss each dawn. But if you speak of artistic merits, I think gender cannot play a role. The Messiah sleeps in a grave and the earth—the hospitable earth— beckons one to serenity. Mother prays all day long. From the summer of through DecemberFarrokhzad published five poems in various issues of Arash. It was believed she died before reaching the hospital, however, Farzaneh Milani in her new book, Forugh Farrokhzad: Foeough have I been?
Views Read Edit View history. Conquest Of The Garden. Dreams always plunge down from their naive height and die.
Forough Farrokhzad Poems – Poems of Forough Farrokhzad – Poem Hunter
Archived from the original PDF on Handing gold coins to the marauding band Getting lost in the midst of the bazaar land. In this verse, I grafted you to trees, water and fire. I am scared of the thought of so many useless hands and of picturing so many estranged faces. In a room as big as loneliness my heart which is as big as love looks at the simple pretexts of its happiness at the beautiful decay of flowers in the vase at the sapling you planted in our garden and the song of canaries which sing to the size of a window.
Persian-language poets Farrokhzas poets Iranian documentary filmmakers Iranian film directors Iranian women film directors People from Tehran births deaths Road incident deaths in Iran Persian-language women poets 20th-century women writers 20th-century poets Iranian women writers. Let us farrokhad, let us believe in the dawn of the cold season. I am a descendant of the house of trees. After you, where our playground was beneath the desk we graduated from beneath the desks to behind the desks and from behind the desks to top of the desks and we played on top of the desks and lost we lost your color Aah, age seven.
The Wind Will Take Us In my small night, ah the wind has a date with the leaves of the trees in my small night there is agony of destruction listen do you hear the darkness blowing?
After returning to Iran, in search of a job she met filmmaker and writer Ebrahim Golestanwho reinforced her own inclinations to express herself and live independently, and with whom she began a love affair.
Your eyes are my pastures, sweet love the stamp of your gaze burning deep into my eyes. How useless the light that fell on this closed door. Dear stars, dear paper stars, how can one take refuge in the verses of defeated prophets when lies blow through the air like wind? Forugh is given few visiting rights, and the child is brought up with the impression that his mother has abandoned him for poetry and the pursuit of her sexual pleasures.
A sad small fairy who dies at night with a kiss and is reborn with a kiss at dawn. After you, the window which was a lively and bright connection between the bird and us between the breeze and us broke broke broke after you, that earthly doll which did not utter a thing, nothing but water water water drowned in water.
I am talking about daytime and open windows and fresh air and a stove in which useless things burn and land which is fertile with a different planting and birth and evolution and pride.
Forough Farrokhzad – Modern Poetry in Translation
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia. Like a star on wings decked with gold You come from a land untold.
How long can he or she survive this isolation, conversing only with the door and the four walls? My brother calls the garden a graveyard. After you, we betrayed each other after you, we cleansed your memories by lead particles and splattered blood-drops off of the plastered temples of alley walls.
I am not farrokhxad about timorous whispering In the dark. Mahmud Saba Kashani — You are my breath of life, sweet love, you have brought me back to life from the grave. All information has been reproduced here for educational and informational purposes to benefit site visitors, and is provided at no charge In my burning body you are a turning gyre In the shade of my eyelashes you are a blazing ofrough.
She continued her education with painting and sewing classes, and moved with her husband to Ahvaz. My entire soul is a murky verse Reiterating you within itself Foroough you to the dawn of eternal burstings and farrokkhzad In this verse, I sighed you, AH!
Will I ever again comb my hair with the wind? More fruit than golden boughs you yield!
You are a shining sun that never dies A sun that rises in Southern skies. Tavalodi Digar My whole being is a dark chant which will carry you perpetuating you to the dawn of eternal growths and blossoming in this chant I sighed you sighed in this chant I grafted you to the tree to the water to the farro,hzad. One window will suffice me.
I come from a world of apathetic thoughts, voices, and words. Perhaps life is a long avenue a woman with a basket crosses every day; perhaps life is a rope with which a man hangs himself from a tree, or is a child returning home from school. Finding in my morrows a place to sleep Permeating my world deep and deep.
Perhaps life is that blocked moment When my look destroys itself in the pupils of your eyes And in this there is a sense Which I will mingle with the perception of the moon And the reception of darkness In a room the size of one solitude My heart The size of one love Looks at the simple pretexts of its own happiness, At the pretty withering of flowers in the flower pots At the sapling you planted in our flowerbed At the songs of the canaries Who sing the size of one window.
The third of seven children Amir, Massoud, Mehrdad, FereydounPooranGloriashe attended school until the ninth grade, then was taught painting and sewing at a girls’ school for the manual arts.