Long Life GameS

Sunday, March 05, 2006

به بهانه midnight

.
By: Hydeh
.
In te changing colors
Of the ocean,
In the poetic chill that
Makes the autumn leaves fall,
In the brightness of
The silent moon,
And the mysterious awe
Of the milky way,
In the holy ritual of
Making tea,
Pouring tea,
Drinking tea,
In all the music that
Can not touch the soul any deeper,
In all the poems that
Make you smile with a nod or
Cry with an ache,
I miss you.
***
I never did the holy ritual of tea right,
I never let my soul be vulnerable enough
To the awe of music
Or my heart brave enough to enter
The realm of soul-shattering poems.
But, I tried,
As I tried to follow you,
You, the noble prince
Of honor, honesty and beauty.
You the prophet
Of lost forgotten words,
Words strange to everybody,
Words that were always ignored
For fear of losing the standards.
I looked for your uniqueness,
Everywhere I went,
Everywhere I stopped,
And every time I started a new life.
It was always going to be an impossible and
Fruitless search.
***
Nobody could be as real and
Honest as you.
You shied away all beauty
With your unbearable beauty.
And now…
With wrinkles on my face and gray in my hair,
And now,
With a body that is broken
And a soul that is lost
More than ever
***
I forgive everybody
For not being
As honest,
For not being
As real
For not being as passionate
And for not being as unique
As you.
You the fountain of
Un bearable beauty in the
Land of vultures.
You the rose
That never stops blooming
***
I never really saw you
Until you traveled so far away.
My dear uncle,
My dear friend,
My lonely prophet of
Beauty and sorrow,
Please forgive me
For everything you wanted me to be,
I failed you.
My hands were always empty
And yet
My hands ache to give to you
All I never had
And all you never asked for.

***

پ . ن : پیرمرد ِ راننده همراه و هم صدا با صدایی که از ضبط کهنه ماشینش می خیزد ، محکم می خواند شعری را که ما در نیمه شب تاریک ِ " احیا " پس از جوشن کبیر فریاد می زدیم !!!

نوایی را که با آن جوانیم را زنده گی می کنم ...

پیرمرد ، سقفی را فریاد می کند که : زیر این سقف خوبه عطر ِ خود فراموشی بپاشیم ...

با اشک هایم سفر می کنم !!!

با شکست هایم به پیش می تازم !!!!

با اشکهایم سفر می کنم !!!

با صلیبم به قله ی ِ قلب ِ انسان صعود می کنم !!!!

ای خداوند

ای خداوند ...

بگذار تا صلیبم را بستایم .

at 7:12 PM