Poems of Iranian Poet, Vida Farhoudi
Mountain of Distance, Translated to English
by Manavaz Alexandrian
breeze is fresher than friendship's dawn,
But, in our breasts pale separation does frown;
The mouth of the bulbul is sealed with silence,
Though, the daughter of rose smiles with dalliance.
In tulip's cup, the crimson wine of loves fills,
Yet, in our minds poisonous pride chills;
The eye of sympathy from detachment weeps,
Cold silence looks like the mummy on our lips!
The cunning stone has broken the windowpane of
The taking bird to doleful note is pressed;
Our wailing does not reach the firmament, no,
For a mount of distance stands in the silent snow.
Should Earth receive aid from the fountain of light,
All atoms of night will become cheerful and bright.
|The Veil of Dream
|Why strike the lyre on fancy's veil in vain?
Why play the solo lonely and wane?
Why like the blind bat in the silent cave drone?
Why shut the eye to the morning's brilliant sun?
Why under the snow like partridge hide the head?
Why befriend the old and ugly crow in the mead?
Why deprive from the long moving wave of ambition?
Why evaporate like the bubble in the ocean?
Why tie our happiness to gnawing greed with rope?
Why forever enslave in the snare of carnal hope?
Why stay away from eternal vernal garden of love?
Why fear to cast the seeds of friendship in the grove?
O you who have seen the autumnal gale of the age,
Why eager to bind yourself to this worldly cage?
Why proudly drink wine in the cold plain of mistrust,
And avoid the fond cub-bearer who quenches the thirst?
A garden of rose buds from love's misty rain,
Why dwell with the bramble in the arid plain?
|Tress of Thought
|My eyes reflect the hue of rain,
They look like vernal cloud of rain;
The branch of desire does not dance,
The garden expects turbulence.
Like the autumnal grass in the mead,
My tress of thought is agitated.
My soul's stream boiling in the rock of woe,
Spouts and expects a tempest to blow.
In the air the song of flight,
Is hid in a mist of regret and blight;
From a silence wider than woe and pain,
My heart's clay like winter is lain.
Though apart from you, your face,
Freely lingers with my loneliness.
The cup of my lays is brimful of pain,
Its sting is from the pain of separation.
Wish I Could Blossom with Flowers
|In spring I wish I could blossom with flowers,
To wash the dregs of sorrow from earth's bowers:
I wish the clouded sky of town, calm and sedate,
Would thunder and help our souls to vegetate.
I wish in people's heart sadness would fade,
And like gushing spring love would show its head;
I wish in the depth of separation bred by lead rain,
Branches of friendship would take root again.
I wish rays of light would lighten the empty night,
By the woe killing comet which spreads the light;
I wish on the merry wing of the bird of ode,
I could fly till the town's end and pour my note;
I wish like pure drops of rain I could kiss the rose,
So that with dew drunk excited I could pose.
I wish like the anemone I would grow in the gale,
Or in spring with flowers I would bud in the dale.
|The Alley of Dream
|Yesterday I traveled to the depth of fancy,
From dream's alley I walked to the grove of unity:
When the northern breeze kissed the rose, lo,
All atoms in the air with perfume did glow.
My cupbearer gave me a cup, from vineyard coming;
And told me: "Drink, complain not your ill luck, drink!"
The breast is the pure mirror, cover nor deface,
So the image of beauty can display its face;
Open your eyes to see in the spring's mead,
Varied images of flawless love displayed.
Life's journey is short, the path long, take your chance,
No time is left to loose in useless trance;
Should your soul be wounded by the pain's dart,
The cure is love and to join your sweetheart.