Nocturnal

Every now and then I will post the translation of a poem by the great Iranian Poet, Shamloo, in this weblog. Though Shamloo is unequivocally Iran's most loved and read poet of the contemporary times, my translations are not necessarily the best interpretations of his poetry. They are certainly my best attempts at translating him.

The following is a poem that Shamloo wrote at the height of the rule of terror during the Shah's regime:


Nocturnal

Not with no reason are you for me.
Indeed
Which ballad are you a praise for, oh sonnet?
The star shower of a response
To which greetings to the Sun
Are you,
From inside the dark doorway?

Words realize from your look.
Sweet is the exchange of looks that you start!

■

Behind the back of your eyes’ pupils
Which prisoner’s cry is there,
Who throws a red rose
To the sour and swollen lips
Of freedom?
Or else
This frolicking of stars
Is In no way
Indebted to the Sun.

■

The look becomes secure because of your voice.
How faithfully you call out my name!

■

And your heart
Is the dove of peace,
Fallen in blood
On the bitter roof.
Nonetheless,
How loftily
How haughtily
You fly!