#فروغ فرخزاد

[ruba321]

فروغ فرخزاد

[se-a09]

"مذهل كيف يشعر المرء بجرأة عندما يكون متأكدًا أنه محبوب"

[frijoldulce]

Iranian poet Forugh Farrokhzad.

[slowtides]

Interviewer: Why do you write poetry, and what do you look for in poetry?

Forugh: First of all, this "why" does not go properly with poetry. I cannot explain why I write poetry. I think all those who are involved in creative work have as their motive or at least one of their motives, a sort of need to struggle with and stand in front of annihilation. These are individuals who love and understand life more, and likewise death. Creative work is a kind of struggle to maintain existence, or else to perpetuate "self" and negate the meaning of death. Sometimes I think it is right that death is one of the laws of nature, but it is only in the face of this law that man feels humiliated and small. This is one dilemma about which nothing can be done. One cannot even fight to eliminate it. There is no use; it must be. It is good, too. This is a general interpretation, which may also be foolish. But poetry for me is like a friend to whom, when I go, I can freely unburden my heart. It is a companion that completes me, satisfies me without disturbing me. Some people compensate for their shortcomings in life by taking refuge in other people. But nothing is ever compensated. If it was, wouldn't this relationship itself be the greatest poem of the world and of existence? The relationship between two people can never be perfect nor perfecting, especially in this age. But still, some people take refuge in these kinds of things. That is, they create and afterwards mingle with their own creation, so then they no longer have any shortcomings. Poetry for me is like a window that opens automatically whenever I go toward it. I sit there, look out, sing, shout, cry, merge with the image of the trees, and I know that on the other side of the window there is a space and someone hears me, someone who might live two hundred years hence or who lived three hundred years ago. It makes no difference--it is a means of connection with existence, with existence in its broader sense. The good thing about it is that when someone writes poetry, that person can say: "I too exist," or "I too have existed." How can one say, "I too exist" or "I too have existed" except through this form?

فروغ فرخزاد | Forugh Farrokhzad, from "An Interview with the Critic, Cyrus Tahbaz, and the Novelist-Playwright, Gholam-Hosein Sa'edi (Spring, 1964)," as published in Another Birth: Selected Poems of Forugh Farrokhzad (1981), tr. by Hasan Javadi and Susan Sallée

[a-bird-dreaming-of-freedom]

[f-farah]

"ربما تعني الحياةُ إشعالَ سيجارةٍ

‏ساعةَ الخدر اللذيذ فيما بين ذروتينِ

‏من الحبِّ الشبق.

‏أو ربما نظرة غائمة بين عابرين،

‏وابتسامة لا معنى لها،

‏تتبعها تحية مقتضبة."

[su3luk40]

‏”أنت دائمًا في صراع مع نفسك، لم تملك السكون. دائمًا في حرب مع ذاتك.“

— فروغ فرخزاد

[teddypickle]

Rainy Wednesday - Winter 2022

[drdina0]

ما أنت لكي لا أرتاح إلاّ فيك؟، يكفي أن تناديني، فآتي للدنيا وتأتي معي الأشجار والشمس والعصافير.

- فروغ فرخزاد

[just-unknown-one]

" تعال .. العالمُ لا يستحقّ كلّ هذا التمنُّع والبُعد ".

[ruba321]

فروغ فرخزاد

[bakubaby3]

زندگی گر هزار باره بود

امشب از آسمان ديده تو     

روی شعرم ستاره می بارد

در زمستان دشت کاغذها  

پنجه هايم جرقه می کارد

شعر ديوانه تب آلودم    

شرمگين از شيار خواهش ها

پيکرش را دوباره می سوزد    

عطش جاودان آتش ها

آری ! آغاز دوست داشتن است   

گر چه پايان راه ناپيداست

من به پايان دگر نيانديشم   

که همين دوست داشتن زيباست

از سياهی چرا هراسيدم     

شب پر از قطره های الماس است

آن چه از شب به جای می ماند 

   عطر خواب آور گل ياس است

آه ! بگذار گم شوم در تو       

کس نيابد دگر نشانه من

روح سوزان و آه مرطوبت      

بوَزد بر تن ترانه من 

آه ! بگذار از اين دريچه باز       

خفته بر باد گرم روياها

هم ره روزها سفر گيرم         

بگريزم ز مرز دنياها

دانی از زندگی چه می خواهم     

من تو باشم تو ! پای تا سر تو 

زندگی گر هزار باره بود   

بار ديگر تو بار ديگر تو 

آنچه در من نهفته ست دريایی ست 

کی توانِ نهفتنم باشد

باز تو زين سهمگين طوفان ها       

کاش ! يارای گفتنم باشد

بس که لبريزم از تو می خواهم     

در ميان صحراها

سر بسايم به سنگ کوهستان   

تن بکوبم به موج درياها 

آری ! آغاز دوست داشتن است 

گر چه پايان راه ناپيداست

من به پايان دگر نيانديشم     

که همين دوست داشتن زيباست

فروغ فرخزاد

[nisaba19]

أيها الرفيق

‏ إن كنت تقصد بيتي

‏فاحمل لي معك مصباحاً

‏ ونافذة

‏ كي أرى صخب الشارع السعيد.

‏فروغ فرخزاد

[slowtides]

"I don't look for anything in my poetry. Rather, I find myself anew in my poetry. But in other people's poetry or in poetry in general....You know, some poems are like open doors which have nothing on either side of them--you'd have to say a waste of paper. And then some poems are like closed doors, which when you open you find that you've been deceived--they were not worth opening. The emptiness of the other side is so terrifying that it cannot be compensated by the fullness of this side. The foundation of the work is that "other side" .... So one has to call these types of works trickery, or jugglery, or a very flat joke. But there are some poems that are not doors at all, and they are neither open nor closed. They have no frames. They are roads, short or long, it makes no difference. One walks and walks and returns and does not get tired. If you stop, it is to see something that went unnoticed in previous comings and goings....A person can stay with a poem for years and still find something new. In these poems there is horizon, space, beauty, nature, mankind; and there is a kind of true mingling with all these things, and a kind of conscious and perceptive looking at all these things. I don't know, my example has become quite lengthy. I like this kind of poem, and consider it poetry. I want a poem to take my hand and take me with it. It teaches me to think, to look, to feel and to see, or else it is the result of a perception, a thought, or an instructive vision. I think that creative work should be one with awareness, an awareness connected to life, to existence, to the body, even to this apple that we bite. One cannot live with instinct alone. That is, an artist cannot and must not. A man must find a vision connected to himself and his world; it is this very need that brings a man to thought and to hope."

فروغ فرخزاد | Forugh Farrokhzad, from "An Interview with the Critic, Cyrus Tahbaz, and the Novelist-Playwright, Gholam-Hosein Sa'edi (Spring, 1964)," as published in Another Birth: Selected Poems of Forugh Farrokhzad (1981), tr. by Hasan Javadi and Susan Sallée

[a-bird-dreaming-of-freedom]

- فروغ فرخزاد.

[f-farah]

موتي سيجيء يوماً

بربيع مضيء من أمواج الضوء

في شتاء مغبر وبعيد

أو في خريف فائض باللهيب والصراخ

موتي سيجيءُ يوماً..

يوماً من هذه الأيام المرَّة أو الحلوة

يوماً فارغاً كهذه الأيام

ظلَّ من الأمس أو الغد

عيني ممرات ضيقة

وجنتي كالمرمر البارد

فجأة.. حلم ما سيأخذني

وسأفرغُ من الصراخ المؤلم

تزحف يدي ببطء على الدفتر..

فارغة من سحر الشعر

يوماً ما كان يدب بي دم الشعر

التربة كل حين تجرني إليها

تريد أن تضعني فيها

آهٍ.. ربما العشاق في منتصف الليل

سيضعون الورد على قبري

من بعدي -فجأة- ستزاح الستائر المظلمة

وعيون غريبة تزحف على أوراقي ودفاتري

وفي غرفتي الصغيرة سيأتون

من بعدي غريب سيتذكرني

وستبقى مني خصلة شعر ومشط

سأرحل ومني سيبقى الخراب

روحي كشراع زورق

في الأفق ستغيب

وستمر الأيام والأسابيع والشهور

عينك بانتظار رسالة

ستحدق على الطرق

لكن جسدي البارد سيضغط عليه التراب

بعيداً عنك وعن دقات قلبك ..

سيتعفنُ قلبي تحت التراب

من بعد اسمي.. سيغسله المطر

بهدوء من فوق صخرة القبر

قبري سيظل دون اسم في الطريق

فارغاً من خرافة الاسم والعار.