Poems of Iranian Poet, Siavosh
|The Iranian Dance,
to English by M. Alexandrian
|Like the white flowers of morning,
In the bosom of darkness,
Rise and take off your shirt,
Open the knot from your sleeping tresses,
Be truant and coy,
Like the perfume of the song which falls from my lyre,
Spread calmly and immerse into the cloud.
Hold your hairs by the tip of your fingers,
Fix your gaze on my eye and turn aside,
Tie your brilliant arms and open up,
Knock your two feet on the ground, let them go,
Fly, fly, turn wild,
Stay away from friends,
Arise from the flame like the smoke of nocturnal candle,
Let your flying hairs dance with winds,
Now do it,
Now cease to do it,
Sink in the light like dancing shadows,
Like the foot of illumination, sink into shadows.
Now snap the bell on your finger,
Mix the harmony and the melody,
Do not rest;
Now take a lyre
Face every gate,
Look at every direction,
Pause beside each rock,
Dance and fill the town with clamor,
Hold your skirt and shape it into a basket,
Gather stars in your skirt and sift them,
Look at God in the sky,
If you didn't see God,
Then come toward me...
I seek you fatigued,
I seek you in the cup of wine,
Dance sensuous on the string of my rhubarb,
When you grow drunkard and restless
Like flowers sliding on the water,
Scatter yourself on the waves of my wine.
|My flower, O Spring of Liberty!
|Everywhere the verdant spring is breathing,
The fervent tulip is busy dancing,
O my flower, you also blossom,
The spring has arrived,
It has arrived,
Boil out of the mountain's heart like the anemone,
Smile like lotus upon the stream's bank,
Make music, sing and revel again with coyness,
Begin a anew life,
Give happy tidings,
Say that daytime has arrived,
Night has expired,
The sun is smiling!
My flower, O blossom of joy!
My flower, O spring of liberty!
Cannot contain within the framework of poetry,
It cannot sit still,
To let me make a sketch,
Worthy to remain lasting.
Which flint stone
Should I shatter,
Turn into pulp and
On a blazing Damavand furnace
To polish your steel?
How can I gather kindness and anger
How can I challenge the sun with a sword?
How can I let the blinking stars
Flow like the river?
How can I lay a hope like dawn
In the black heart of this dark night?
How can I
Engrave your eyes?
Let me sit in silence,
Patient and in ambuscade,
The swinging of the waves,
Perhaps a wave of strange fish
May fall in my trap and then I
An image of your tireless remembrance.
O combatant river!
O searching river!
O rushing river, stop for a while,
Till age itself
Shall array its youth in your bosom.
Stay till the traveler's companion
Can refresh his sad rose
With your gaiety;
Stay until the child
Can reach the sea with you;
Until one like me
The wisdom of change of fire
On the water.
But you cannot be contained,
You cannot sit,
You cannot stay, O freeborn!
Will record your recollection
On the blood woven canvas of my heart
With the perfume of the age of iron and tyranny
And the color of unbreakable metal of pain...
Like the silk dress of a March morning
And the body of storm
And the rejoicing of hundred thousands handkerchiefs and eyes
And the contented look of rice plantation
Over the hill,
Which drinks milk and honey.
You shared your bread and name with us,
And pledged our honor.
Now O ancient youth!
Be like eternal wine
To our friends.