Ahmad Shamlou

Of Death…

Never have I feared death,

Although its hands were more devastating

Than banality.

My fear, however, is of dying in a land

Where the reward of gravediggers

Is greater

Than the freedom of humankind.

To seek

To discover

Then,

To choose with free will

And

To fashion a fortress

Of oneself…

Worthier than this

If death could be

Indeed ever, never in fear

Have I been of death.

The Death of “Vartaun”

“Vartaun”!

Spring has smiled

And the redbud has opened.

Inside the house

Under the window,

Blossomed the old jasmine

So, tackle not ill-fated Death!

'Tis better to be than not to be

Especially in the spring…"

“Vartaun” spoke none,

Gnashed the weary heart proudly upon

And vanished.

Vartaun spoke none,

"Speak dear Vartaun, speak!

For the bird of silence hatching

The brood of a calamitous death in its nest!"

Vartaun spoke none,

Glittered he sun-like

From within the dark,

Tumbled in blood

And vanished.

Vartaun spoke none,

A star he was:

Shining in this tyranny of night, galumphed

And vanished.

A violet he was:

Bloomed and evangelised,

Broke out the winter

And vanished he so.

The birth of he who fell amorously

Look how modestly spread upon the earth

He whose thin saplings of hands

Were of love

Like God

And before whose rage

Of hell, the top is too low.

He who dies

Not by the wound of a hundred daggers

But submission,

And whose death befalls not

Unless upon him

The thought of feebleness befalls.

A great fortress,

Whose gate's charm

Is the simple word of friendship.

Denying love so tenaciously as you have,

A dagger up your sleeves

You must have held.

For the lover shouted confession such

That into a clamour

His soul turned all.

Look how graciously it shatters before the gateways of chastity

A countenance that no storm dare conquer.

How fervently falls before you

He, who could embrace the seas

Within his arms.

Look how magnanimously lay his head at your feet

He whose death

Was the uproarious birth of a thousand princes.

Look!

I turned death into …

Lo! The heavy-passing surge of time

Crossing into me

Lo! The heavy-passing surge of time

Like a stream of iron

Crossing into me

Lo! The heavy-passing surge of time

Like a sea of steel and stone

Crossing into me.

In the passage of a breeze

I sang a different song

In the passage of rain

I sang a different song

In the passage of shadows

I sang a different song.

In you,

There were lilies and rain

In me,

Dagger and shout instead

In you,

Fountain and vision

In me,

Ponds and darkness instead

In your passage

I sang a different song

I turned leaves into a song

More emerald than thickets

I turned waves into a song

More pulsing than humankind

I turned love into a song

More sonorous than death.

More emerald than forests

I turned leaves into a song

More palpitating than the heart of seas

I turned waves into a song

More resonant than life

I turned death into a song.

English interpretation by: A. Behrang