رخصت!

آقا اجازه هست
باز كنم پنجرهام را به روي عاطفهي نور؟
و چشم بدوزم به چشم زندگي
                    از همين فاصلهي دور
آقا اجازه هست
كه يك روز از اين سيصد و شصت و پنج عدد روز
                                                خودم باشم؟
از هر چه نبايد و بايد جدا باشم
جاريتر از آفتاب بخوابم به روي سبز علف
فراتر از پرنده بنشينم به روي شاخههاي درخت
با باد و كبوتر و ماهي
                        - ماهيان خوشبخت آفتابي -
با رودخانه و شرشر باران يكي شوم
از هر چه ايست
      نكن
            نه
                 رها شوم ؟
آقا اجازه هست
خواب عشق ببينم
و زندگيام را بسپارم به آيههاي
                             بوسه و
                                    شهامت و
                                                نور
از نخ  و سوزن
                رخت و اطو
                         اجاق و سماور بپرهيزم
با آسمان و خيال
شعر و شعور لحظههاي دور در آميزم؟
آقا اجازه هست
به همسايهام بگويم سلام!
و شال ببافم براي رهگذري از نسوجِ گريههاي غروب؟
آقا اجازه هست
بدون اجازه ازين ديار
كوچ كنم به سجدهگاه گل سرخ در دشتهاي بهار
آقا اجازه هست ؟
اجازه
اجازه
اجازه هست؟
بخندم به هر چه هست
وبگويم ياساي تو خطاست
اين عدل نارواست؟

© Nahid Kabiri
Teheran

Authorized Demand

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.

Translated by Kambiz Parsai