اطلاعیه

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هیچ اطلاعیه ای هنوز ایجاد نشده است .

به لطف مي آمد از دور . . .

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  • به لطف مي آمد از دور . . .


    به لطف مي آمد از دور . . .



    به لطف مي آمد از دور ,حرير آبي به تن داشت;
    به دست يك شاخه زيتون ,به ديده صدها سخن داشت.

    سلام كردم ,دويدم; به دست دستش گرفتم:
    هنوز جنبش به رگها ,هنوز گرمي به تن داشت.

    "- تو مرده اي ,آه [گفتم],به سالها پيش ,مادر!"
    نه بوي كافور مي داد ,نه بسته بر تن كفن داشت.

    به شاخ زيتون نگاهم خزيد; با خنده اي گفت:
    "-نشان صلح است ,بستان" نگه فرا روي من داشت.

    گرفتم و گفتم:"-آري ,نشان . . ." به ناگه سواري
    رسيد و ,ديدم كه تيغي نهفته در پيرهن داشت !

    به تيغ بر كند برگش كه :هان !برگ تركه يي نيست;
    براي تعزير نيكوست - كه درد طاقت شكن داشت.

    گشود خورجين و . . .آنجا-كه تركه را كرد پنهان-
    كبوتري مرده را ديدم كه گرد گردن رسن داشت!


    به قهر مي رفت مادر ;نگاه مي كردم از پي:
    به شيوه سوگواران ,حرير مشكي به تن داشت . . .


    سيمين بهبهاني
    دي ماه 61


    ***




    Gracefully she approached



    Gracefully she approached,
    in a dress of bright blue silk;
    With an olive branch in her hand,
    and many tales of sorrows in her eyes.

    Running to her, I greeted her,
    and took her hand in mine:
    Pulses could still be felt in her veins;
    warm was still her body with life.

    "But you are dead, mother", I said;
    "Oh, many years ago you died!"
    Neither of embalmment she smelled,
    Nor in a shroud was she wrapped.


    I gave a glance at the olive branch;
    she held it out to me,
    And said with a smile,
    "It is the sign of peace; take it."


    I took it from her and said,
    "Yes, it is the sign of...", when
    My voice and peace were broken
    by the violent arrival of a horseman.
    He carried a dagger under his tunic
    with which he shaped the olive branch
    Into a rod and looking at it
    he said to himself:
    "Not too bad a cane
    for punishing the sinners!"
    A real image of a hellish pain!
    Then, to hide the rod,
    He opened his saddlebag.
    in there, O God!
    I saw a dead dove, with a string tied
    round its broken neck.


    My mother walked away with anger and sorrow;
    my eyes followed her;
    Like the mourners she wore
    a dress of black silk
    .




    SOURCE Of English Translation:iranchamber.com
    Make love ...not war
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