Hafez Mousavi
Iranian Poet

(Photo: Masoud)

Research: Iran

Hafez Mousavi

Literature: Poems of Iranian Poet, Hafez Mousavi
In Subsequent Sentences, Translated to English by M. Alexandrian
In subsequent sentences of this poem,
a child
emerges on concrete stairs,
he remembers the running of the rabbits,
the short flights of partridge;
he remembers the wind,
and the color of olive groves:
green, leaden, silvery,
green, leaden, silvery,
"stop the car beside this jungle,
after rain the air
is delicious to eat!"

(the child has not appeared,
how untimely
has this colorful rope
fallen from the sky!).

His hands are still wet,
he remembers 
the walnut trees
in a rainy day,
with several non-plucked nuts
on distant branches...

In former lines of this poem
a child
is sitting on the concrete stairs
who doesn't understand the anxiety of his eyes.
They bring the horse,
they mount a man on the horse
- the child sees these things -
in an early morning
- this is seen by the man -

He is sitting on concrete stairs,
the yellow morning ends.
They return the horse without the man
and the anxiety of the eyes 
are conceivable.

The non-plucked nuts fall from the tree.

in the subsequent sentences of this poem
a child walks to the street
(it is clear that the sentence "it finishes early in the morning" wasn't correct)
and a horse without rider
neighs in the street and
casts away dust
from his mane
into the wind
and trots away.

The child
escapes the horse without rider,
and follows his unfinished plays
in pubs and streets.
These Lines
I'm writing these lines for you,
reveal not even one word in it
to anybody
after composing this poem
I will throw the key
into the ocean. 

We have little chance
and this narrow paths
will lead us nowhere.

I know an unknown path
but I have little chance to write
and eyes which grudge to see us
are watching us.

We have little chance;
let's meet
beside the same ocean
Upon the Wing of A Butterfly...
You will sleep upon the wing of a butterfly
and will move away
so far 
that you can't hear
the beating of your heart.

The butterfly
will sit
on something soft as a flower
or on a piece of imagination

and then
you will easily 
go into 
you go easily
into sleep...


Research: Iranian Contemporary Poems


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