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Window
—1st Part
Forough FarrokhzadA window for seeing.
A window for hearing.
A window I like well
that plunges to the heart of the earth
and opens to the vast unceasing love in blue.
A window lavishing the tiny hands of loneliness
with the night's perfume from gentle stars.
A window through which one could invite
the sun for a visit to abandoned geraniums.One window is enough for me.
I come from the land of dolls, from under
the shade of paper trees in a storybook grove;
from arid seasons of barren friendship and love
in the unpaved alleys of innocence;
from years when the pallid letters of the alphabet
grew up behind desks of tubercular schools;
from the precise moment children could write
“stone” on the board and the startled starlings took wing
from the ancient tree.I come from among the roots of carnivorous plants,
and my head stills swirls with the sound
of a butterfly's terror – crucified with a pin to a book.When my trust hung from the feeble rope of justice
and the whole city tore my heart's lamps to shreds,
when love's innocent eyes were bound
with the dark kerchief of the law, and blood gushed
from my dreams' unglued temples,
when my life was no longer anything,
nothing at all except the tick tick of a clock on the wall,
I understood that I must, must, must
deliriously love.One window is enough for me.
Translation: Sholeh Wolpé
Via: The Middle Stage
