سجاد سیفی

تَب نوشته های وِب

سجاد سیفی

تَب نوشته های وِب

آشنایی
سجاد سیفی

کوله بار غزلم بسته سفر خواهم کرد
دل به دریای دلت داده گذر خواهم کرد
ابر غم آمد و بر سطح دلم باریدم
بر دل سنگ خودم خورده اثر خواهم کرد
صحبت عشق زیاد است ولی فرصت کم
حرف دل را به تو گفته مختصر خواهم کرد
راه من از طرف شهر شقایق افتاد
گونه ی سرخ شقایق تر تر خواهم کرد
سینه ی من صدفی وسعت چشمت آبی است
خون دل می خورم این اشک گوهر خواهم کرد
گاه در طول سفر جاده پر از سنگ شب
با قدم های تو این راه سحر خواهم کرد .

پیام های کوتاه
  • ۲۴ بهمن ۹۲ , ۰۰:۰۶
    محبت
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                            1

It was an overflowing night

the river flowed from beneath spruce tree to far beyond

the valley was shrouded by moonlight and the

mountain was so bright that God was visible

 

                       2

In the heights

We two were invisible, the surfaces were washed

And looks were thinner than all other nights

Your hands delivered me the green stalk of a message

And the earthenware of familiarity was slowly

Cracking our heartbeats poured over the rock

From an old wine, the summer sands flowing in veins

And  the enamel of moonlight on your behavior

You were wonderful, free and worthy of earth

 

                          3

The green opportunity of life joined the cool mountain air

Shadows returned

And still on the way of the breeze

Pennyroyals were shaking

And attractions mingled together

 

Sohrab Sepehri

 
Translated
by
Mehdi Afshar
 
Download mobile Sohrab Sepehri eight books in Farsi

 
 
 
Let's not muddy the brook
perhaps a pigeon is drinking water at a distance
or perhaps in a father thicket a goldfinch is
washing her feathers
or a pitcher is being filled in a village
 
Let's not muddy the brook
perhaps this brook runs to a poplar's foot
to wash away the grief of a lonely heart
A dervish may be dipping dry bread in the brook
 
A beautiful lady walked to the brink of the brook
Let's not muddy the brook
the lovely face has been doubled
 
!What refreshing water 
what a spring river
how friendly seen the folk at the upper village
may their cows always render milk! ; may their
springs always gush
I have not seen their village
surely God's footprints lie at the foot of their huts
there moonlight enlightens the expanse of words
surely in the upper villages hedges are low
there the folk know what sort of flower is
 
anemone
surely there the blue is blue
a but is blossoming, the village inhabitants know
O what a fine village it must be
may its orchard - lanes be full of music
the folk upstream understand the water
they did not muddy the brook We also
must not muddy the brookm
 

  SOHRAB SEPEHRI

 
Translated
by
Mehdi Afsha
 
Sohrab Sepehri on Wikipedia