The height

By: saleh souzani

Translate by: safoura hashemi chaleshtouri

.

Fatigue lines
You are broken
And stuck
On your aged forehead.
O! wayfarer
By the flighted leg
The cut off hand
In prickly route of this epoch
How you can
Pass out my height
On tenterhooks
How you can
Upon the fog of sorrow of heart
Of love bird
Follow the sun
In search for
In this manner.
Scorch of the pain
Is intertwined
The plain of your limbs
Scourge serpent
To reach the depth of the wound
On your back
Is in forestall
The demon of the iron
Rubs the tongue on the lip
To reach the width
Of the road
On the wounded foot
How you can
How?

• 
  Me
  Wayfarer
  The belly of many mountains
  Have torn
  A thousand high cliffs
  On my legs
  Have bowed.
  Bend your back
  Put your head on my shoes
  You don’t know
  On my legs boredom time
  My hands
  Will become kingly wings
  And my eyes
  Will follow mice
  Hidden in the corners.
  My comrades
  Constantly
  Inside your intestine
  Light fire
  At night
  Sleep there.

Now
Why you imitate
The full resentment rebels?
It’s thousands years
Our names
Are intertwined
When it’s said mountain
Then
It will be said
Eagle
Now why?
Me
The height
I’m inside you
Never eagle could raise
Up to my bust
His head
The height of frustration
The height of my frustration
In your heart.
My hands
In every plantation
Have fallen
Now they are me
My legs
Wherever they are
Now are trees
Green and rowdy
Let alone mountain tops
My hands
Are tampered with stars
Play with the moon ball
Their branches
Kiss the Hoor’s daughter
Wink at Uranus
Bend your back
Let me climb
I will climb
Eventually
And did not!

---

From the pomes collection “ Gift “ / 1981