Farzaneh Koochak Khani
(Photo: Masoud)

Research: Iran (Literature)

Farzaneh Koochak Khani
Poems of Iranian Poet
He galloped in my words
He galloped in my words,
Let me to pound my head,
On the words not had belonged to me.
Four cursive lines had sat 
On the chair,
when the door was closed.
I walk around myself within me
I walk around myself within me
I pick out my head
from your patting hands
The sun has gone.
You stand firm.
You stand firm.
As if you are opponent to me.
As if not!
I cover up your enmity by my dress,
And with dexterity of rope dancer,
I opened the window.
I opened the window.
The Christ carrying cross on his shoulder passed over our alley. 
The Judah run after him during these millennia.
He cried so much that, 
Moses was opening the road by his cane,
For you all who are still dealing your God.
Where from that plaster?
Where from that plaster, bluish sculptured head escaped?
So that drew out me running to the extremity of darkness,

For many years looked through my eyes,
And talked with the world by my tongue.

Wanted my hands to pat,
And sang in my ear\ Hush…!

He escaped and I followed him
Running\ limping.

I did not reach him and he eluded.
What had happened yesterday?
What had happened yesterday

That the words jetted-out of me
Pouring under my feet in the car

I panicky in the free way,
Cannot do anything.

It’s impossible to be embraced
It’s impossible to be written

They escape from seam of windows/ and by horn
Only the blue cloth on my legs, get wet
By the rain I do not know rain from.
This pride and the God
This pride and the God’s seed,
That has pound on the empyrean,

Give no time, to whirl around with us 
So as to believe that we exist,
In his vigilance*
We exist.

* It implies to one of Indian myths.
I stand
I stand, I look

As usual, waiting…

I saw the sky roof came down so much
That rotten father of heaven, 
With his white bushy bear
Stood on my shoulders
Took my hair tail
And hung me out from the tree I had picked the apple.
I open your fist
I open your fist, 
It is vain.

I open my fists.
They are full of everything as usual.

The myths return, I surely was one of their broken wings
And have not come in through the opened windows.

I do not want to know that the world is history,
And everyday eyewitness is needed.

I can telephone; I do not want to know. 

And say hello,
I miss you.
How browbeat did I
How browbeat did I: come back!
On a circle which was growing in itself!

Its pulsation caused by fear/ perhaps
It could not stand against its growing

At the time of coming, pushed it forward
And I was born soon.
Just one thousand years.
How beautiful you are!
How beautiful you are, from far away!
Your color is blue.

The words have filled all the distances in,
I pass over them by toe tips, softly
And I kiss your ears, without you know this.
Be careful!
Be careful!

I am afraid of you.
Sometimes your kindness becomes precarious.
I pour brown color on your face,
I crush the words under my feet/
And become black on the sheet.
Now write…
If you let me to count your breath!
If you let me to count your breath,

I fill my pillow by them one by one.

And turn the TV off forever. 
I believe my nights.
I believe my nights.

On myself, I shut the ports.

What difference does it make, when do you come?!
I become cool
I become cool,
I put my skin on,
And I go out to welcome you.

Don’t afraid of me!
I will go by wind.
I get simple\ I let you paint on my body.

Do not worry about colors.

I will teach you.

I get simpler\ I let you hide me under paintings. 
At the moment I stickled you,
what a astonishing multiplicity took place in me by accident!
Just like the moment;
I sticked to my mother's uterus.
Don't doubt!
If I wait for some summers,
You will become dry on my body.
And if I open more some forbidden door,
That's enough for your leaving's sake.
This unique behavior will end finally.
He shake my small shoulders of happiness

So that the budded flowers of my shirt strewed down.

And I paint them all, fearing my worried eyes of my face.

I assumed not, nothing.
I have come depended.

First of all umbilical cord,

Then you

Now these colorful medicine
I open my fists.

I pour on the ground all things.

I shoot the earth under your feet.

Come on,

The game has begun.
I wish there is some one to call me again for myself,
Who would let me to stretch my legs out on his shoulder
so that I would get sleep;
And who would pour on my face handful of the words I liked.
I wonder/ from what direction the wind did blow
That my wisdom run away so?
How my solitude was shaken?
So that my shirt gone by then?
And how silence layers/passed through my body,
So that it's beads dangled on my neck?
In the mornings 
I and my vagrancies,
wake up
How long...
so that the moon
gets the night,
the bird closes its eyelid,
on the remembrance
of the land 
so that I become calm.
My leaves are turning over without you,
How thick I have become!
I should find out fitness.
That's enough for today.
Do not turn over me for no reason.
The coming page
is completely bare.
The shadows escape,
fallowing them I do so.
How fleet-footed they are!
And how needless of sun presence the are!
By the way! 

The shadows escape 
And the sounds believe/that I born dumb.

The shadows escape 
My hands
with careless looking 
harm them caused by an evil eye.
When I opened the door,
I did pour myself on the floor.
My shadow was shrewder,
for it scaped sooner.
Where of your ego,

do you hide me?

For whatever we shake

It never fall off from us.
You narrate,
You have an eyewitness/me
You believe that you can read the lyrics well.
you believe that you know women as well,
I adopt you're silly so.



Research: Iranian Contemporary Poems


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