She was grand. She came from the words of our page. But she belonged to a timeless age, to the lightly spots of this stage.

The Picture: Sohrab Sepehri and Forough Farrokhzad
(Ellegy by Sohrab Sepehri for Forough Farrokhzad 1967, abridged)

The Friend

She was grand.
She came from the words of our page.
But she belonged to a timeless age,
to the lightly spots of this stage.

She played the intimacy of her soul.
And she portrayed the straightness of her love-
in all sharp bends of her time,
for the mirrors.

She was alike the rain-
full of the freshness of the rivers.
She was alike trees: spread in the ease of lights.

But it couldn’t be
that she’d long stand-
in front of the crystal faith of the birds.
Thus, she climbed to the limits of naught
and laid in the wake of white serenity of lights.

And she didn’t believe,
No, she didn’t believe at all,
that caught in the midst of these rotating gates-
we would be left massively alone.

Translation Maryam Dilmaghani, November 2006, Montreal
.

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Donovan Crow
Donovan Crow
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