The Sun Rises (Aftab Mishavad)

Narenjestan-e Ghavam, Shiraz, Photo by Parviz Forghani

There is a strange symmetry between how the sun and the clouds have been fighting each other all day and how my body and that awful virus have been going at it. Our rainy and cold day gave way briefly to that beautiful patch of sunshine which did manage to come out a little while ago, only to get obliterated quickly by raining clouds. I'm happy, but my body has given in to the fatigue and ickiness of the virus, making me feel weak and achy. I had to stay home another day to rest. When we live by ourselves, there is no other person to hear us coughing and feel us sweating all night, and telling us in the morning that we must stay home and take it easy. We have to do it for ourselves. That process is not always easy, because usually the sick person is stubborn and won't heed our call easily and we have to get mean to return them to bed to rest! I have had to be mean to myself to shut down my usually very elaborate and active life. I sit here and think and go lie down and think some more, and try to sleep, and can't. I hate being sick. I want the sun to come out and I want to feel good again, fast.

Speaking of the sun, let me try again to post that Forough poem today. It is appropriate, I believe.

The Sun Rises (Aftab Mishavad)

Look how sorrow in my eyes

melts to water drop by drop,

how my rebellious shadow falls

captive to the sun.

Look. Sparks ignite me,

flames engulf me,

carry me high,

trap me in the sky.

Look how my universe

now streams with shooting stars.

You came from far, far away,

from the realm of perfume and light,

seated me on a canoe of ivory, of glass and clouds.

Take me now, my hope, my solace,

to the place of desires,

carry me to the city of rapture and rhymes.

You draw me up a flickering path,

seat me higher than all the stars,

but look these stars scorch me,

burn me, and I, like a feverish red fish,

nip at them in the pool of night.

How distant did our world once lie

from these chambers of the sky,

but now your voice reaches me,

the sound of angels' snow wings.

Look how I've soared to galaxies,

to shorelessness, eternity.

Now that we have come so high,

wash me in the waves of wine,

fold me in each silky kiss,

crave me through the lingering nights.

Don't release me, do not

part me from these stars.

Look how night along our path

melts like wax in drops, in drops,

my dark eyes drink sleep's wine

from your cup of lullabies.

Upon the cradles of my poetry

you waft your breath and look,

the sunrise floods us with light.

From Sin, Selected Poems of Forough Farrokhzad, Translated by Sholeh Wolpe, The University of Arkansas Press, Fayetteville, 2007.

The Gate

One of my readers, Pardis, is a young woman from Shiraz. Recently, as we were corresponding back and forth, I reminisced about her home city of Shiraz. I had an uncle who had married a Shirazi girl and settled there to have many children. I had several bona fide Shirazi cousins, complete with that sweet Shirazi accent. For many years we would travel to Shiraz to visit with that side of the family for Nowrooz. We would go through what is called Darvazeh Qoran, or The Qoran Gate. According to an old Iranian tradition, the gate held a Qoran on top to keep those traveling under it safe on their trip.

We had such wondrous times in Shiraz, walking the tidy backstreets, visiting the monuments, enjoying the public gardens, and everyday at mealtimes, picking Narenj off the trees in the backyard to enhance the food on the table. The best herb and fruit extracts (aragh), paloudeh, noghl, and even cream puffs (noon khamehi) I ever had in my life was in Shiraz, or was it that everything tasted good when we were children? People of Shiraz are so warm, so welcoming, and possess such unique sense of humor. Shiraz gave me such beautiful childhood memories. I continued to travel there with my family until Nowrooz of 1978 (1357), which was the last time I saw Shiraz. During the years I lived in Tehran, I could have gone back many times, I suppose. I didn't go, primarily because there were other places I had never seen which beckoned me, but also because some memories are better kept as you remember them, clean and crisp and innocent, magnificent. Shiraz has many monuments for which it is famous, the most important one of which is Persepolis. For me, however, Darvazeh Qoran is the most memorable monument in Shiraz. The reason is that every time we drove under it, my father would whole heartedly pray and wish all travelers a safe journey, each time teaching us something valuable about our traditions, culture, and beliefs. When I think of Shiraz, this is what I think about, and I miss it tonight.

You can see all the pictures Ali Majdfar has lovingly taken of Iran here.

What Heaven Must Sound Like Right Now

Watch Ostad Bikchekhani on Tar and Otsad Farnam on Dayereh play live at Hafezieh in Shiraz in the early 1970's. I had never seen the Dayereh played like that! Listen to the masters and enjoy. The two of them and Hafez are probably making Heaven sound and feel beautiful right now!