بایگانی دسته: In English

Snow by Bijan Elahi

Poem: Bijan Elahi

Trans: Mehdi Ganjavi

——-

Snow

She could only

Be embraced

Once.

She knew, then,

She would fall like an avalanche.

Yet she wanted

To find shelter in my embrace!

Her name was snow

Her body, snowy

Her heart of snow

And her pulse

Sound of dripping snow

On the thatched roofs…

And I loved her

Just like a branch

Broken under the avalanche.

—-

Circa 1962

First published in the second volume of the Turfeh literary magazine (Jung adabi turfeh) in 1964.

Four “Lickos” from Kerman

1.
In that hot noon summer
You didn’t invite me to sit.
2.
It’s four,
My head is on the knee of the beloved.
3.
Don’t sit so long in front of me,
People will start to doubt.
4.
Another banner in the cemetery!
How long can we wait?
——————–
These “Lickos” are translated from:
Lickos, the Shortest Oral Poems of Iran, a research by Mansur Alimoradi, 2014
Trans: Mehdi Ganjavi

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Goalkeeper

In a letter sent to his past lover
The goalkeeper painted a picture of one of his ears
:The lover called him and said
*”You didn’t have the balls”
:Goalkeeper said
,You wouldn’t have fallen in love with me anyways”
“At least I have two ears this way

The love between two people
.Is a sand timer

   A poem from  “The Goalkeeper’s story (a collection of poems)” by Mehdi Ganjavi
Translated by: Nojan Norouzi

———
*Legend says that Van Gogh takes a razor and cuts off his left ear. He then wraps the piece in some newspaper and hoping to make her fall in love with him, gives it to a prostitute with these words: ‘Keep this object like a treasure.’

The Great She

The Great She

 

ای میدان تحریر من

با این ساکت ِ سبز

با این رد خروش زیر پتو

Oh she got marijuana

و خیابان ِ درخت های مورب

و کبوتری که بین بسته شدن در ِ مترو

دان می خورد

Oh she got marijuana

بادِ غلیظ می وزد

یک گربه ی باردار ِ خیس

رو به روی ما خود را می تکاند

Oh she got

Marijuana and a wet body

 

 

معبد اثر جان نوتن

ریویوی من از اثر “معبد” اینستالیشنی از “جان نوتن “:


“This is a provoking piece of art which was installed in one of the main streets of Toronto’s downtown. Night walkers of Toronto in the crowded la nuit blanche saw a shrine made of recycle bins. More than 100 recycle bins were delicately carved to create a Gothic cathedral. People, drunk, drowsy or sober were standing in a long row, waiting more than 20 minutes in the heart of an ongoing night, just to bow and enter into this provoking shrine. What was it? Was it to remind us of primordial shrines and their materials? Was it to criticize the religious tradition which has led to “Golden” shrines? Was it to create an atmosphere in which one could relate this space with geopolitics; the phenomena that “space” is impregnated with ideology? Should we think twice about recycles and the situation of raw materials in our chaotic contemporary world? Should a Christ-figure go in and ruin this temple of wicked men? Being in this temple, viewer had to give a certain answer to an uncertain question.”

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