I was six years old; a small and lonesome dream seller
Girls and boys, my customers: 'I want one of Hafez's poem. Hey you, girl! '
Sometimes with a smile, sometimes not
With sorrow about random poems; general and vague repetitive phrases,
They said together.
In my heart along with every poem I gave,
I fixed a dandelion with a clamp;
A dandelion prettier than peacock feathers; brighter than a lantern;
Each dandelion more fragrant than hundreds of thousands of jasmines
Those grown in Hemat, Zafar and Gysha neighborhoods;
Grown outside the Tehran villas, I would clip them scrupulously
In return, I would pluck paper money one thousand times folded,
With my little hands, daintily I would pluck...
As if I had plucked the badness and filth from the hearts of people.
But at nights, I would see that filth in my dad's doping fire
And anything that remained from the ashes of his drugs,
From a piece of bread to a mouth in our dinner share;
Gently I would see…
*
Six years of age was I
Nights always drowned in dreams: a field full of flowers
I was a dancer; songster; happy and uproarious...
I picked narcissus, anemone, jasmine to beautify my poems up,
Drowsy in this paradise at nights
On the other end of the fog; diamonds would I pluck...
To forget that my dad sold all of me to golden teeth man in dark night
#Farzad_Jahanbani
Sunday, October 09,2016
Poem 208
Dark inspired poem- When money is needed to breathe, lonesome will be the heart, but if love and care are what people want for peace then heart will always truly fullfilled
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
sometime with a smile, good one.