Breaking down cultural barriers
Transposer une culture dans une autre par delà les barrières culturelles

Monday, 17 August 2009


He is like the night , wide, dark
He penetrates my body, my heart , my soul
devours me, grinds me in his dark belly
Yet I stick out like the northern star; a sore sight
exposing and feeding the expand of his emptiness
I emasculate him, yet he calls me “lover”
and encircles his dark arms around my parched bosoms
And, I melt, I surrender before him the lightness of my being
let him flow like a river through me
O – he is the seed of my darkest sorrows,
the bitter sting of long winters of my soul
But without him, I could not plot a course, flower or glow
O – He is my beloved - who charts my soul
and I’m the vessel, the light that lit our course

Shirin Ghobadi

1 comment:

  1. This is my free form reaction, imagining being a character or essense in the poem. I don't know if it's relevant to the intended theme or not, but it may be of interest. Even if I've totally misunderstood the poem, I've enjoyed it nevertheless. Thank you.
    In the darkest of sorrows, with the lust of his unspoken dreams and plans unfulfilled, he has searched the darkness of the sky for a northern star where he could plant his soul in the flower of the sky and water her with his tears that she would welcome into her heart and bossom of compassion. Many tears water the garden and there are many plants on the beach below the stars that don't mind the salty.
    Poetry by Douglas Gilbert