Archive for the 'Poem' Category
Nature
Monday, April 9th, 2007
بهاران خجسته باد
Tuesday, March 20th, 2007
هوا دلپذير شد
گل از خاک بردميد
پرستو به بازگشت زد نغمه ی اميد
به جوش آمد از خون درون رگ گياه
بهار خجسته باز خرامان رسد ز راه
به خويشان،
به دوستان،
به ياران آشنا،
به مردان تيزخشم که پيکار مي کنند
به آنان که با قلم تباهي ی درد را
به چشم جهانيان پديدار مي کنند
بهاران خجسته باد،
بهاران خجسته باد.
و اين بند بندگي،
و اين بار فقر و جهل
به سرتاسر جهان،
به هر صورتي که هست
نگون و گسسته باد.
به خويشان،
به دوستان،
به ياران آشنا،
به مردان تيزخشم که پيکار مي کنند
به آنان که با قلم تباهي ی درد را
به چشم جهانيان پديدار مي کنند
بهاران خجسته باد،
بهاران خجسته باد.
” کرامت دانشيان “
خرچنگ های مردابی
Tuesday, February 27th, 2007
دراین زمانه ی بی های و هوی لال پرست
خوشا به حال کلاغان قیل و قال پرست
چگونه شرح دهم لحظه لحظه ی خودرا
برای این همه ناباور خیال پرست
به شب نشینی خرچنگ های مردابی
چگونه رقص کند ماهی زلال پرست
رسیده ها چه غریب و نچیده می افتند
به پای هرزه علف های باغ کال پرست
هنوز زنده ام و زنده بودنم خاری است
به تنگ چشمی نامردم زوال پرست
محمد علی بهمنی
Long Companionship
Thursday, February 1st, 2007
It is wrong to think that love comes from long companionship and preserving courtship.
Love is the offspring of spiritual affinity and unless that affinity is created in a moment, it will not be created in years or even generations.
(Gibran)
Unity
Monday, January 29th, 2007
Everything in creation exists within you,
and
Everything in you exists in creation
kiss
Sunday, January 21st, 2007
This day and age we’re living in
Gives cause for apprehension
With speed and new invention
And things like fourth dimension.Yet we get a trifle weary
With Mr. Einstein’s theory.
So we must get down to earth at times
Relax relieve the tension
And no matter what the progress
Or what may yet be proved
The simple facts of life are such
They cannot be removed.]
You must remember this
A kiss is just a kiss, a sigh is just a sigh.
The fundamental things apply
As time goes by.
And when two lovers woo
They still say, “I love you.”
On that you can rely
No matter what the future brings
As time goes by.
Moonlight and love songs
Never out of date.
Hearts full of passion
Jealousy and hate.
Woman needs man
And man must have his mate
That no one can deny.
It’s still the same old story
A fight for love and glory
A case of do or die.
The world will always welcome lovers
As time goes by.
Oh yes, the world will always welcome lovers
As time goes by.
پرواز را بخاطر بسپار
Friday, January 5th, 2007
دلم گرفته است
دلم گرفته است
به ايوان مي روم و انگشتانم را
بر پوست كشيده شب مي كشم
چراغهاي رابطه تاريكند
چراغهاي رابطه تاريكند
كسي مرا به آفتاب
معرفي نخواهد كرد
كسي مرا به ميهماني گنجشكها نخواهد برد
پرواز را به خاطر بسپار
پرنده مردني است.
It Is Only Sound That Remains
Why should I stop, why?
the birds have gone in search
of the blue direction.
the horizon is vertical, vertical
and movement fountain-like;
and at the limits of vision
shining planets spin.
the earth in elevation reaches repetition,
and air wells
changes into tunnels of connection;
and day is a vastness,
which does not fit into narrow mind
of newspaper worms.
why should I stop?
the road passes through the capillaries of life,
the quality of the environment
in the ship of the uterus of the moon
will kill the corrupt cells.
and in the chemical space after sunrise
there is only sound,
sound that will attract the particles of time.
why should I stop?
what can a swamp be?
what can a swamp be but the spawning ground
of corrupt insects?
swollen corpses scrawl the morgue’s thoughts,
the unmanly one has hidden
his lack of manliness in blackness,
and the bug… ah,
when the bug talks,
why should I stop?
cooperation of lead letters is futile,
it will not save the lowly thought.
I am a descendant of the house of trees.
breathing stale air depresses me.
a bird which died advised me to
commit flight to memory.
the ultimate extent of powers is union,
joining with the bright principle of the sun
and pouring into the understanding of light.
it is natural for windmills to fall apart.
why should I stop?
I clasp to my breast
the unripe bunches of wheat
and breastfeed them
sound, sound, only sound,
the sound of the limpid wishes
of water to flow,
the sound of the falling of star light
on the wall of earth’s femininity
the sound of the binding of meaning’s sperm
and the expansion of the shared mind of love.
sound, sound, sound,
only sound remains.
in the land of dwarfs,
the criteria of comparison
have always traveled in the orbit of zero.
why should I stop?
I obey the four elements;
and the job of drawing up
the constitution of my heart
is not the business
of the local government of the blind.
what is the lengthy whimpering wildness
in animals sexual organs to me?
what to me is the worm’s humble movement
In its fleshy vacuum?
the bleeding ancestry of flowers
has committed me to life.
are you familiar with the bleeding
ancestry of the flowers?
