I have a dream in my mind. I have a plan. To speak about, to share poems, to every one loves Poetry and Cultures. I believe that poetry in every land has a special norm tied to culture. So Feel free, Come share Your Culture and Poetry in Your Land.. Come share Yourself..
P.S: Write poems in comments, in your original language and if possible a translation to English..
Famous Persian Poets:
Hafiz-e-Shirazi Life & Poetry
Mulana Jalal-e-Din Rumi Atribute to his Life and Poetry
Omar Khayyam Robaiyyat
August 6, 2007 at 1:44 pm
ِبه سراغ من اگر می آیید..
نرم و آهسته بیایید..
مبادا که ترک بردارد،
چینی نازک تنهایی من..
“If you come to visit me,
Come gently and slowly lest the fragile china
of my solitude cracks.”
Sohrab Sepehri
August 7, 2007 at 6:37 am
Persian poetry truly is enchanting!
August 8, 2007 at 10:26 am
روزی دوباره کبوترهایمان را پیدا خواهیم کرد
روزی که در های خانه شان را نمی بندند
قفل افسانه ای است و عشق برای زندگی بس است
وعشق برای زندگی بس است
و عشق برای زندگی
وعشق برای
و عشق
و….
Once again we’ll find back our doves,
the day when they won’t have to hide
behind their closed doors of shadowy houses,
locks and deadlocks turn into folk tale,
and love suffices us to sustain on,
And love suffices
And love ….
(free translation fom Shamlu, a close companion in my earlier steps on this endless path.)
August 8, 2007 at 4:08 pm
Good thing about Farsi is the close resemblance it has to Urdu! I might ask my Dad to translate since he knows Farsi
August 8, 2007 at 5:41 pm
Mutarjam , Thank you
Sumera, Thank you. Make me happy and add some beautiful URDU poems here
Safa, Thank you for your add
I add other one here now:
گويی سالهاست که می شناسمت
بلکه قرن ها!
حضور محسوست را
لبخند های گاه و بيگاهت را
همه را می شناسم
برايم ملموسی!
تمام خاطراتی که با تو نداشته ام
تمام حرفهايی که به هم نگفته ايم
تمام يادگارهايی که به هم نداده ايم
حتی ثانيه هايی که با هم نبوده ايم
همه را به خاطر دارم!
امروز بدون تو
عبور کردم از کوچه هايی که با تو از آن نگذشتم!
از کدام کوچه با هم گذشتيم؟
هيچ کوچه ای نبود…
هيچ از تو ندارم هيچ!
روح غريبت
رمز و راز درونت
صدايت
اما برايم ملموس است
گويی قرن هاست که با من بوده ای
گويی سالهاست که می شناسمت..
Could be i know you for years,
As if You have been with me for centuries,
For Your strong presence,
Your now and then smiles,
Your gentle Heart,
Your sweet Voice,
Yet are touchable for me!
All words we have not said to each other
All memories we have not had together
All gifts we have not given to each other
Even all moments we have not been together,
Yet I remember all!
Today without You
I went to all alleys we have not gone together.
What was that alley we went together?
No alley..
For I dont have anything from You,
Even a footprint!
Your free soul
Your mysterious spirit
Your wild LoVe
Yet are touchable for me.
As if You have been with me for centuries,
Could be i know you for years..
By Me
August 8, 2007 at 10:56 pm
I’ll add an Urdu poetry one day Shahrzad! Let me find a good one first
August 9, 2007 at 6:10 am
Persian poetry and prose is really a pleasure to read…my favs…Rumi, Saadi and Hafiz…its so absorbing.
Thankyou Shahrzad for putting your poem in persian…it seems even more beautiful now:).
August 11, 2007 at 2:08 pm
سفر كردم، بهر شهري دويدم / چو شهر عشق من شهري نديدم
ندانستم ز اول قدر آن شهر / ز ناداني بسي غربت كشيدم
رها كردم چنان شكرستاني / چو حيوان هر گياهي مي چريدم
بغير عشق، آواز دهل بود / هر آوازي كه در عالم شنيدم
…………
…….
….
…
I traveled around from town to town / I saw no town resembling the Town of Love.
From the beginning, I did not appreciate the value of that Town / Out of ignorance, I suffered so much misery in exile.
I abandoned such land of honey as that / Grazing on every (kind of) grass like an animal.
Apart from (sound of) love, every sound that I heard in the world / Sounded like beating on a drum.
……..
(Translation from the beginning lines of ghazal No. 1509 Divan-e Shams Tabrizi of Mawlana Jalaluddin Muhammad Balkhi [Rumi] —Foruzanfar Edition)
August 11, 2007 at 2:53 pm
Thank you Safa, Zios, Sumera. I am waiting for Urdu poems anyway
سرخوشم!
یادم می ماند که هنوز هستم.
که تو هستی
سکوت هست
و زندگی.
و تمام جزامی های کوهپایه
و روسپیان خیابان های خیس
و حلبی آباد ِحاشیه نفرین شده.
یادم هست که همه مان هستیم هنوز
و چراغ های سوخته کوچه هم هنوز هستند
که باشند،
تنها چراغی،
حتی بدون نور..
I am joyful
For i remember yet i exist to be
And yet you exist to be
And silence,
And life..
And all lepers of the valley
And all prostitutes of the wet streets
And tin city of the castaway suburb
I remember yet all of us exist to be
And the off lamps of the alleys,
yet exist to be
Even only a lamp
Even without light..
By Me
August 11, 2007 at 10:50 pm
Beautiful poem, bravo! It clearly depicts your perceptive mind and sensitive soul. Nice translation, too. Keep on the nice art, soon you’ll come up with an elegant bi-lingual poetry collection!
August 12, 2007 at 12:51 am
Shahrzad…How can you write these kind of things…it is very nice!…the thought and the expression both.
August 12, 2007 at 3:08 pm
Thank you Safa and Zios.
Now a poem by Hafiz,
منـم کـه شهره شهرم به عشق ورزیدن
مـنـم کـه دیده نیالودم بـه بد دیدن
وفا کنیم و ملامت کـشیم و خوش باشیم
کـه در طریقـت ما کافریست رنـجیدن
بـه پیر میکده گفتم که چیست راه نجات
بخواسـت جام می و گفت عیب پوشیدن
مراد دل ز تـماشای باغ عالـم چیسـت
بـه دست مردم چشم از رخ تو گل چیدن
به می پرستی از آن نقش خود زدم بر آب
کـه تا خراب کنم نقـش خود پرسـتیدن
بـه رحـمـت سر زلـف تو واثقم ور نه
کشش چو نبود از آن سو چه سود کوشیدن
عـنان به میکده خواهیم تافت زین مجلس
کـه وعظ بی عملان واجب است نشنیدن
ز خـط یار بیاموز مـهر با رخ خوب
کـه گرد عارض خوبان خوش است گردیدن
مـبوس جز لب ساقی و جام می حافـظ
کـه دست زهدفروشان خطاست بوسیدن
I am the infamous lover in this town
My eyes, evil seeds have never sown.
Be kind and work hard and live happily
Disbelievers in our creed are hurt and down.
I asked the Master of the tavern to show me salvation
Asked for a cup, said keeping secrets alone.
Why should my heart watch the gardens of this world?
With my pupils picking the flowers that are shown.
Revering wine, I washed away my own image
Selfishness cannot be when the self-image is unknown.
It’s Your lock of hair that keeps me firm on the ground
Without the pull of love, everything would drown.
Let us turn away towards the tavern, from hence
Upon the deedless words of preachers one must frown.
From the Beloved learn to love what is good
Good company happens to be the ultimate crown.
Hafiz kisses only the bearer and the cup
Keep away from the hypocrite wolf in sheepish gown.
August 12, 2007 at 4:06 pm
و سأروي لك قصّة
قصّة عاشت بأحلام الأنام
قصّة تنبع من دنیا الخیام
حاکها الجوع، و وشّتها عشّیات الظلام
فی بلادی، و بلادی حفنةٌ من لاجئین
کلّ عشرین لهم رطل طحین
و وعودٌ بالفرج.. و هدایا و بقج
إنها قصّة آلام الجماعة
صمدوا عشر سنین فی مجاعة
و دموع ٍ و أنین
و شقاء ٍ و حنین..
***
إنها قصّة شعب ٍ ضلّلوه،
و رموهُ فی متاهات السنین
فتحدّی و اتّحد
و مضی یشعل ما بین الخیام
ثورة العودة فی دنیا الظّلام
I will tell you a story ..
A story that lived in the dreams of people ..
A story that comes out of the world of tents ..
Was made by hunger, and decorated by the dark nights
In my country, and my country is a handfull of refugees ..
Every twenty of them have a pound of flour ..
And promises of a relief .. gifts and parcels
It is the story of the suffering group
Who stood for ten years in hunger
In tears and agony ..
In hardship and yearning ..
* * *
It is a story of a people who were misled
Who were thrown into the mazes of years
But they defied and stood
Disrobed and united
And went to light, from the tents,
The revolution of return in the world of darkness
Alqissa (the story) By Kamal Nasir
Palestinian poet, He was assassinated by the Israelis in Beirut on April 10, 1973.
August 15, 2007 at 5:25 am
ھاتھوں کی لکیروں میں، مَیں کل ڈھونڈ رہا ہوں
اندھیروں میں اجالے کی کرن ڈھونڈ رہا ہوں
اس دور میں عادت نہیں بڑھنے کی خودی پہ
اڑنے کو کسی اور کے پَر ڈھونڈ رہا ہوں
میرے افکار کی تہذیب یے محبت سے عبارت
تجھے پا کر بھی تجھ کو کہیں ڈھونڈ رہا ہوں
جینے کی تو خواہش ہے نہ مرنے کی تمنا
کس آس پہ جیون میں اُمنگ ڈھونڈ رہا ہوں
سمندر میں کہ صحرا میں ، ہوں میں تو سفر میں
شام ہونے کو ہے آئی مَیں گھر ڈھونڈ رہا ہوں
I am trying to find my future in the lines of my hands
like someone looking for a ray of light in the darkness
In our age, no one wants to move ahead on his own
so I am trying to borrow wings to fly
My ideology rotates around love
I have found you but still look for something
I do not have any wish to die nor to live
Then why do I look for excitement in life
I am always on the way, in sea or in desert
And I look for a HOME as sun sets
- Ghazal by ME.:)
August 15, 2007 at 2:27 pm
Thank you Zios. You are very good poet
جای پای من روی شنهای سپيد
حال دريايی شده ام
هم سطح آب های مرمرين
آه ای مديترانه آرام!
من باز نمی گردم…هرگز…هرگز!
رفتن مرا بازگشتی نيست!
My footprints on white sand
Now i am already a Sea
As high as marble waters..
O’ silent Mediterranean
I don’t come back.. Never..Never..
My steps never escape,
No i never pass by..
I go forward, but never return..
By Me
August 15, 2007 at 4:07 pm
My father passed away in February. He wrote poetry in Farsi and would have loved your blog!
August 17, 2007 at 2:35 am
Thanks Shahrzad:)….another nice poem. It feels like life..”.I go forward, but never return.”…like every day that we live will never come back.:)
October 2, 2007 at 7:17 am
BEAUTIFUL! I Love Rumi, Hafiz, etc., all of them! Allow me to share a poem with you by Yunes Emre:
This King, this King, He keeps on doing His work.
The world is His orchard.
He keeps on sending pain to the ones He loves.
Don’t do wrong,
the moment of death is closer to you than yourself.
It has made its home in our own roots and origins,
It demoishes us all.
In a single moment you will reach there,
so work hard here.
The soul is not here forever,
it wanders around for a few days in the flesh.
A Questioner comes, tears back the earth,
and asks, “Who is your God?”
And this sould of mine hears him
and my bones keep on aching.
Those who accept God’s Unity,
those who sacrifice their souls for God,
these souls are not dead,
they’re swimming in the waters of Love.
I have seen–those who attained flew away.
They drank from the full cup of Love.
Their whims are tolerated at the level of Truth,
Their heads are bowed.
Yunus, if you are the servant of the wise,
don’t forget your death.
So many of the attained have come and gone,
now our turn has come.
.
A Love Poem By Rumi:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gaLz3SvksDA
Enjoy…
.
October 2, 2007 at 7:24 am
Shahrazad, your poems have a wonderful flow. Have you published a book of poetry?
.
October 2, 2007 at 1:38 pm
Waw, Barbara, That was very beautiful poem. I didnt know Yunes Emre.. Thank you for the poem really.
No dear. I didnt pulish book. Yet i was journalist for 7 years
October 29, 2007 at 7:39 pm
Your Laughter
Take bread away from me, if you wish,
take air away, but
do not take from me your laughter.
Do not take away the rose,
the lance flower that you pluck,
the water that suddenly
bursts forth in joy,
the sudden wave
of silver born in you.
My struggle is harsh and I come back
with eyes tired
at times from having seen
the unchanging earth,
but when your laughter enters
it rises to the sky seeking me
and it opens for me all
the doors of life.
My love, in the darkest
hour your laughter
opens, and if suddenly
you see my blood staining
the stones of the street,
laugh, because your laughter
will be for my hands
like a fresh sword.
Next to the sea in the autumn,
your laughter must raise
its foamy cascade,
and in the spring, love,
I want your laughter like
the flower I was waiting for,
the blue flower, the rose
of my echoing country.
Laugh at the night,
at the day, at the moon,
laugh at the twisted
streets of the island,
laugh at this clumsy
boy who loves you,
but when I open
my eyes and close them,
when my steps go,
when my steps return,
deny me bread, air,
light, spring,
but never your laughter
for I would die.
by Pablo Neruda, Chilean writer and poet
February 4, 2008 at 2:12 pm
Dear Gaza
Great Salutation from your daughter,
to the sea that used to embrace us together each friday
to the sun that used to burn our skins to make us of the same color,
to the oranges that killed our thirst,
to the shoulders and hands we used to exchange.
to the Gaza I know
Source: A Voice From Gaza
February 4, 2008 at 2:19 pm
My First Love
Self denial,
Emotionless sky…Loafing dawn to dusk…
Her first step in the life…
A colourful life….
Showering sky…
Rejuvenated soul….
Galloping long towards salvation,
Her companionship…
A sobbing kid in mother’s lap……..
Safe, feeling warmth…
Wishing to live long,
Kissing all successes….
Her beaming eyes….
Radiating dull life.
Sudden vanishing in a cruel world….
Crying soul,
Tired eyes…..
My first love.
February 20, 2008 at 1:15 am
This is a favorite of mine, it is in German, not Dutch, by Reiner Maria Rilke
Ein Hände ineinander legen
Ein langer Kuß auf kühlem Mund
Und dann auf schimmerweiße Wegen
Durchwandern wir den Wiesengrund
Durch leichten weisen Blütenregen
Bringt uns der Tag, den ersten Kuß
Mir ist, wir wandern Gott entgegen
Der durchs Gebreite kommen muß
A mingling of hands
A long kiss on a cool mouth
And then on ways of shimmering white
We wander through the meadowlands
Through flowers raining light and white
The day bring us the first kiss
I feel, we are moving towards God
Who through the brushwood must come to us
February 28, 2008 at 1:14 am
Why is it that Latin letters looks so dull compared to the beauty of such written languages like those used by you in Islam, the Chinese and Japanese, the Greeks, and Cyrillic?
March 2, 2008 at 3:09 am
I love farsi sufi poetry (especially Jami and Imam Rumi) but I only read the english translations as I cant understand the Farsi
March 14, 2008 at 7:23 pm
this is first of my collection of marsia in english which I wish to share with my web friends
In modern mathematics how sane was Husain (as) ?
With family in the desert did he go in vain?
Or did he had a purpose for might and mane?
Nay he thought of all that as insane
Only Quran and hadith can explain
March 31, 2008 at 12:31 pm
kathin hai zindagi kitni…
Safar dushwar kitna hai…
kabi paon nhi chalty….
kabi rasta nhi milta…
jo sath de paye mera…
koi aisa nhi milta…?!
Faqat aisy guzaron to….
ye rooz_o_shab nhi kat ty….
jo katy thy kabi pehly…
MAGER HAAN…..!!!!!
ab nhi kat ty ….!!
pir b mery MALIK mujy
tuj se koi shikwa nhi….
main ab jan pr khail sakta hon…
main ab b her dukh jhail sakta hon.
AGER tum aj b kar do….
“”"”MOHABAT HAMSAFER MERI
May 19, 2008 at 4:34 am
I’m a well-traveled American who lived in Rabat, Morocco for five years and I have a poem to submit, if that is cool.
May 19, 2008 at 4:47 am
Shriek by Virginia Mariposa Dale author of The Bushy Daughters Go to War and Find Rumi
This bankrupt country run by a stone-faced madman
as he stampedes through Baghdad
devouring souls like shish kabobs
while his trigger-happy henchmen
skewer whole generations with uranium
Let them eat yellowcake
His power lust unbridled
while he hurls bibilical epithets
at the mullahs in abducted Tehran
The blood of his countrymen
pools and stagnates
while he ignites yet another dirty bomb
with a look of sleepless pleasure
that Allen Ginsberg would have recognized
The planet spins another dizzying revolution
while the gangrenous prophets wide-eyed on crack cocaine, whatever chemical substance and, yes,
there’s money that gets you high
The tortured minions heave and thrust
sweat sustained by blood lust
Just one more turn of the screw
between Arab and Jew
Until the wound up world
spins havoc like a drunken president
While saints and sinners shriek and jive
go down in flames
give the high five
Who on earth will be alive
when they let the all-consuming nuclear fart
and call it high art
While the professors genuflect and shrive
wearing their finely wrought theses to hell
Angles laugh and titillate
their platoons heave, ululate
curse their god, wonder alound
Who was responsible for the fate
of the green and blue planet
poor lovely orb spinning, spinning, spinning
in the exponential universe
While Jesus and Mohammed
hold hands with Mary Magdalene,
Khadija and Fatima
Skipping out a hip hop beat
they never meant to generate such heat
just an enlightened celestial crew
Wondering what happened
to their message of brotherly, sisterly love
of peace and redemption
Why bother to hang on a cross for three days
when it doesn’t really matter anyway
When you’re just going to be used by lesser minds
to try to bind man and womankind
to a fate no prophet worth his silver words
ever had in mind.
July 23, 2008 at 6:47 pm
good …can you plz post something by shaikh saadi ?
August 4, 2008 at 5:56 am
If you are looking for a good place to begin publishing, look here: http://www.postcolonial.org. One of my stories is going to appear there in a few months, and my thesis advisor is also published there. Good luck!
August 11, 2008 at 4:28 pm
Those are my 3 favorite poets.. nearly of all time. Plus they’re Sufis… so OF COURSE they are amazing, powerful, beautiful, touching, and so much more. Hafiz is getting easier to find here in the states… as is Omar Khayyam.
Peace,
aisha
August 19, 2008 at 2:42 am
What an elegant, informative website! It is a blessing. We in America want peace between our country & your beautiful land & people. Please know this. I love the poetry on your site. What exquisite words. Peace! From Dixie in Colorado, America
December 10, 2008 at 11:55 pm
hey guys lets take a look at this very marvelous poem of Forugh Farrokhzad one of the greatest Iraniani s poet
Someone Who Is Not Like Anyone
I’ve had a dream that someone is coming.
I’ve dreamt of a red star,
and my eyes lids keep twitching
and my shoes keep snapping to attention
and may I go blind
if I’m lying.
I’ve dreamt of that red star
when I wasn’t asleep.
Someone is coming,
someone is coming
someone better,
someone whose coming
can’t be stopped
and handcuffed and thrown in jail,
someone who’s been born
under Yahya’s old clothes,
and day by day
grows bigger and bigger,
someone from the rain,
from the sound of rain splashing,
from among the whispering petunias.
someone is coming from the sky
at Tupkhaneh Square
on the night of the fireworks
to spread out the table cloth
and divide up the bread
and pass out the Pepsi
and divide up Melli Park
and pass out the whooping cough syrup
and pass out the slips on registration day
and give everybody hospital
waiting room numbers
and distribute the rubber boots
and pass out Fardin movie tickets
and give away Sayyed Javad’s
daughter’s dresses
and give away whatever doesn’t sell
and even give us our share.
I’ve had a dream.
thanx rehana
January 3, 2009 at 8:57 pm
Good thing about Farsi is the close resemblance it has to Urdu is tht true?
July 6, 2009 at 7:26 pm
Amazingly beautiful poems soothing my trouble soul today also thank you for translation bec. it is eaier to share with others. It so nice to know about you. 1st saw you in Twitter.
September 18, 2009 at 6:59 am
These are very beautiful, soft and have a nice flow. I think my own poetry might be too dark, but maybe you would like my photography and it’s so nice to think that people can enjoy each other regardless of politics of their governments, ah if poets ruled the world…
http://offshoot2.wordpress.com