Kambiz Parsai 

Translator

May I Sir ?
May I open the windows of my heart
To the gripping temptations of light ?
And at least from distance far ,
Look at the beauties of life ?

May I Sir ?
May I be myself – a woman …
And from the three hundred sixty five days of the year ,
For only one day be
From all your “must”s and “must not”s free ?

May I Sir ?
May I just have my natural liberty
Of lying on the green grass …
And even more generous than the Sun
Give the expectant soil
The warmth of my body and soul ?
Or , in the fields yonder ,
Perch on a lonely tree
To sing in wilderness
Seeking unity with birds
And harmony with rivers ,
Wherein swarms of fish in ecstasy swim ,
And in rememberance
Of all my love-whispers with the rain ,
Surrender to a long – sought liberty ?

May I Sir ?
May I for only a while in your prescribed society
Be spared the pangs of
“Stop !”s ,
“Don’t !”s ,
“No !”s ,
And “Never !”s ?
May I , if you graciously give me the right ,
Dream of Love ?
And in fascination of the bold verses of mutiny ,
The gripping enchantment of a kiss ,
And the absorbing radiance of freedom ,
Detach myself
From the hardships of housework ,
Exclusively imposed on the feminine? ! …

May I Sir ?
May I , for some moments of relief , leave
The needle and the thread ,
The clothes and the iron ,
The kettle and the stove ,
And under the endless skies of romance ,
Merge my being
With those lovely moments of sense and intelligence ,
Which your “CODE” has ever denied me ?

May I Sir ?
May I Sir ?
May I say “hello” to a neighbor one day ?
Or knit a muffler for a passerby
From the strings of my suppressed tears ?
And may I migrate without a “permit”
To the altar of roses
Yonder there – in the scented fields of spring ?

May I Sir ?
May I ?
May I then laugh in ridicule at whatever here ?
Yes , laugh in ridicule Sir !
And tell in your face :
Your “YASA” ٭ is a shame !
And the justice you believe in ,
Is indeed a disgrace !

_______
٭ Ancient Mongolian Strict Code.

Into tight limits are pressed:
The iron bars,
The chains,
And the walls.
As they yield to tightness,
To suffocation they’re rendered.

The pressure on my heart but
Is even more.
I’m depressed,
And prey to a hanging restlessness,
That hangs from every branch of my being,
It hovers on my whole existence,
Projected on everything everywhere:
On the roof, in the room, in the pond,
On my black bra on the hanger,
On the green moss grown on the tree,
In the angry fists the wind pounds on the window,
On every moment of expectation
Tracing on and on
And ending in the last moment of my life
On the silent bulk of the telephone set
On that cold cup of tea – left untouched,
On the vapor of my breath
Blown into the cracks of the mirror,
On my hot tears
Shed on the torn words of silence
And in the unending pacing of two legs
That thousands of times,
Over and over again,
Sew together and tear apart,
The four corners of this room,
And in the end I hang from the hanger
The unyielding shadows of apathy and impatience.

Restlessness !
Restlessness !
Restlessness in everything:
In the drops of water
In every particle of earth
In every cell of air
And in every, flame of fire
The fire burning under the flowers
That adorn my dress,
The fire that puts me ablaze –
Even when I’m wet all over !

Restlessness !
Yes, restlessness !
Do you understand me ? ! …
Do you get what I mean ? ! :
Restlessness ! …

Thousands of nervous drivers –
Mad with impatience –
Honked and honked !
The smoke-ridden protest of the vehicles
Had satiated the air –
Turning into darkish gray
The heavenly blue of our meeting !

I said :
“Do not trust to follow the trace
The birds of this evening leave behind .
They are metal artificial birds ! …”

And we continued our way
In the streets dense with carbon ,
In the streets with no sign
Of a place to take shelter in
For something to eat or something to drink

And the flight we aspired to ,
Lay swollen there –
Under the heavy feet of Love !

Cross out our meeting set
For the yellow hour on the saffron-colored  day !
I won’t show up !
Those dark, dirty, “awkward shadows of dresses”
Exhibited there –
In those streets of insulting, ignoble ambience,
Do not  merit my interest !

The sunshine, but,
Spreading its golden cloak on the balustrade,
Brings the moment I see you !
I see you with your briefcase
Heavy with so many words to say ,
Lank and lean, walking in an unhurried pace,
Pass by all protests.
Nearing some women’s-dress shops
You pause – and you linger :
You think about me.
Behind the windows of some book-shops
You crumble down:
Bookshops with no books of poems !! …
And then you remember
That my handkerchief, wet with my tears,
Do not get dry
Even in the sunshine ! …
* * *
I draw in a puff from life
And strike a fillip at forbearance …
Before the wind puffs-up
The last flames of light and warmth,
And my granted grace ends up
In pallid thinning and in sickly coughs,
At the last moments before falling dead,
I see you …

I see you passing through the straw-mat sellers place,
Getting more and more distant,
Until you stop to buy
Some milk, some nectarine, and a few drops of dew.
Then in the Sunset Avenue,
You suddenly put your hand on your heart …
And …
You melt drop by drop
In an obscure small pit-
To die away …
Bit by bit ! .

And I won’t see you anymore
In the continual tik-tak
Of my moments of deep longing !

I’ll Cut you off from the umbilical cord
Of my days of past, whatever –
Whether good happy days,
Or dark days of gloom –
As now the fascinating colors yonder –
Across the separating river –
Beckons me in a gripping temptation !
And I’m so much bored
With so many depressing black scenes here !
٭ ٭ ٭
Eyes are for beholding beauties :
The sunflowers neighboring the rice fields
Resonating a warming melodious murmur
All yellow ; all gold !
Or the calm flowing and ebbing of cool waves of the sea –
Blue, blue ! –
So soothingly blue !
٭ ٭ ٭
I want to turn green like a grain of wheat
That the nature–loving Persians grow
In a dish days before the happy event
Of the New Year eve,
Or just like these red drops of love,
Becoming warmer and more red ,
And still more red – crazy red !
With each shower of rain I hear
And each time the bold wind talks to me in intimacy
From afar or near !
٭ ٭ ٭
Patience and moderation is useless
With the admass .
Yes, my dear !
That’s why as “the bird of sunshine, love and livelihood”
I do not strut in the streets amassed with vanity
And I shun the piteous side–walks where
Poets have put on sale their poems of no readers
On the dull stands here and there ! …
٭ ٭ ٭
The city is void of all happy twitterings,
No sparrows or canaries here !
Only a couple of crows
Croaking now and then on bare branches of the trees
A nostalgy in their croak !
٭ ٭ ٭
You will see how I’ll tear off myself
From the thick curtains and sickness–ridden sheets
Of this black hospital !
And in disbelief you will see
That I will not heed the red–light
Or the embarrassed whistles of the traffic police,
And I will go forth
Determined and resolute –
My comb, my rouge
And my broken vial of perfume,
All with me in the trespass !
٭ ٭ ٭
Don’t worry for me :
I’ll give birth to my baby
In the shelter of the thick wheat crops
Yonder there,
On the gold of the other wing of sunshine !