Rosa Jamali

Rosa Jamali Biography

Rosa Jamali is a renowned poet in contemporary Iran; she is often considered as the most important female figure in the Present-day Poetry of Iran and Post-revolutionary Persian Poetry. For three decades she has been the most articulate, thoughtful and daring voice in Persian Literature.

She studied BA Drama & Literature at the Art University of T ...

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5poems From The Book: 'here Gravity Is Less'(Translated From Original Persian To English)

1


'SUPPOSE THAT I'M INEVITABLE'

Suppose that I'm inevitable
Even the veins of my right hand
Cross you from the drafts.

On my smooth nails
The breeze
Which is not from the sky
Is curving you
Either the veins of my right hand
Is running short
On my pulse.

Rolled along my fingers
Vanished
Not repeated for ever
For the second.
I'm a half
Since the first.

The veins of my neck cross you all.


If the warmth of my ten fingers
Seized on your torn pieces of breath
All is over
With the dead-end alleys
all in oblivion.

******
2

'LIKE A HANGED PITCHER'


Like a hanged pitcher,
No drink is pouring off me
It's natural to get numbed gradually.

Pig-headed seashells!
This boasting sky,
Is an anchor
which has fallen on my lap
This dizzy sky!
The moon's been cleared
A shadow's coming after me
Barefooted on my dreams
You used to run!

Enjoyed? !
Numbed? !

All my veins are connected to this land...

Like a hanged pitcher
Joyful of this sky
One day a huge whale swallowed it as a whole.

And it was over!
The Gulf was over!
You waved hands.

Like a hanged pitcher,
It's simple!
I lost the game
And gambled away...

******
3

'TEHRAN CUDDLED IN MY ARMS'
Tehran in my arms
At the agony of death
In my bosom
Is an aged bull
Which is mooing
Yet tamed and dull
Rubbing its figure on my hair.
But tomorrow,
It 'll be a dead body
And the dustman will collect it
I'm a refuge of this kicking bitch dog
And I'll leave it to God...


*****
4

'THE ONLY RESIDENT OF THIS HOUSE IS THE GLOOMY HAWK'

Me
huddled here
And my red cells flee
The game ended in nill
Never-existed memories on the road
on sale!


It was a man
Heavy
On my eyelids.

No, it won't be over
All the mirrors show me the same
A locked room
The stone's falling down
Single-handed and barefoot
The day is just the surface!

That parted memory
Tossing and turning
Sing me lullabye
Is this the memory loss
Or I'm wounded?
And nobody knows
The drizzle of salt
On that large basin.
The days are sick!
Can you feel my pulse?
And me
Is a memory joined to your veins.

Tired
Although they're playing the drums
As loudly as possible
But I'm a deaf!

The only resident of this house is the gloomy hawk.



******
5

'UNRIPE GREENGAGES'

I'm unripe greengages
It was a necessity
That I was just born to be a flavour.


(TRANSLATED BY THE Poet)

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