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

Saturday, 28 November 2009

Sohrab Sepehri - CALL ME

Call me
Your voice is soothing
soothing as the breath of that strange plant
that exhales melancholy to the borders
of intimacy
I feel lonelier at the mercy
of this dark evening of creation
strung along the lengthy conception
and lingering taste of an alley...

so that I may tell you
how huge my loneliness is --
a loneliness unaware of the significance
of your nightly obsession and assault
on love -- not a person...
so that we may steal life
and then split it between two encounters
Come so that together
we may snatch
something of the nature of the stone
Come so that we may see things faster --
see how the hands of the clock on the screen
of the fountain basin turn time into a sphere...

and mold in
like a word in the sentence
of my switched on darkness...
Come and melt the shimmering sin of love
In the palm of my hand...
Make me warm
as once more in the desert of Kashan
the weather grows cloudy
and a strong rain starts
and I grow cold...
Then behind a rock
a grate of poppies gives me warmth...

In these dark streets
I fear the result of the multiplication
of matches and hesitation
I am afraid of the cemented surfaces
of the century...

so that I may no longer fear cities
where a black soil serves as meadow
for towering cranes
Open me
like a door onto a chute of pears
in this evening of ponderous ascension
Put me to sleep under a tree far from screaming metal...

Call me
If the creator of the morning quarry should call
and I -- in the aurora of a flowering jasmine –
rise under your fingers and orate about bombs
that fell while I slept...
Recite about the cheeks that got wet while I slept
Declare how many ducks flew over the sea
in that street battle where the wheel of a tank
moved over the dream of a child...
To what substance of peace
would the yellow stringed canary fasten its song?
Recite what innocent articles were brought into ports?
Which science looked for the smell of powder
in the positivity of music?
What premonition from the anonymous taste of bread
filtered into prophecy...?

Then --
like a religion rising
from the radiance of the equator
I will place you at the head of an emerging Eden...

Sohrab Sepehri
translated by Tatul Sonentz

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