A Story

Morning Glory


It is a summer Saturday, and I am walking back home from library. Today, as previous days, I change my way and choose a new street. I am new in Ottawa, and I want to know my neighborhood and my new city better. I expect to see new things, as I have already seen. Saturday is silent and solitude. As I walk, I watch the flowerbeds at front of houses. There are many flowers, which I know. However, many are new to me, or, in my hometown, we know them as wild flowers. Suddenly, I stop. There is Morning Glory, my favorite flower. I love it for many reasons. I love it from my childhood. I like its heart shaped leaves. I like its different colors. I like it because it makes mornings more beautiful. It changes the light of the sun in a lovely manner. It spirals around any subject that is near to it as if it has fallen in love with it. It is why in my hometown they call it “love spiraled.” I love Morning Glory because it reminds my childhood lovely days. My mother liked this flower and always planted its seed and I watched its growth since it was a seed until it became a spiraled lovely plant full of flowers. Therefore, it is my mother’s flower, and there is no doubt that I love it. I stand and watch it carefully and lovingly. From a far distance, a senior lady is walking to my side. I continue looking at flowers as well as at old buildings, which have a lovely style. It is getting late. I resume walking. I feel my necktie moved on one side because I have worn a thin slippery shirt that cannot hold the tie. I need a mirror to fix my tie. I reach to a parked car, and I look at its window’s mirror to fix my tie. The woman is very near to me. She has a meaningful look at me and claps her hands together. I resume walking. All neighborhoods’ dogs bark. I am happy, and the lady is happy too. I am happy because I have found another thing that links Ottawa to my childhood hometown; the lady is happy of thinking that she has saved others’ property. Everyday I learn a new lesson in my new hometown.

October 9, 2006

Asef Fekrat

Khorasanian Mystic and Poetry

Aboo Sa’id Abulkhair great mystic of Khorasan (370 – 440 AH/ 992-1062 AD ) was sitting with his followers, while one of them was citing Persian poem. The man cited this verse aloud:
I will hide inside my words
To kiss your lips
When you read my ode
Aboo Sa’id was excited and asked whose poem was? The man said: Emara Marwzi was the poet. Emara”s tomb was in Mahana, where Aboo Sa’id lived. Aboo Sa’id said: God bless Emara. He rose, asking his followers: Let us go to Emara’s tomb for a pilgrimage.
This is the Emara’s Persian verse:

PIRAMOOZ

A beautiful script, Piramooz, that was famous and favourite in Khorasan about 1000 years ago. This pattern is written by Asef Fekrat based on the ancient manuscripts, preserved in Astan-Quds Library in Mashad, Iran

Kufic script

I wrote this calligraphic pattern, based on a manuscript from 5th AH/ 11th AD century. I was studying and watching the manuscript for many days, and still I liked to look at different aspects of its artistic characteristics. The original manuscript was written in Khurasan. One can imagine how fantastic the original work is.

Kufic Script

salwaat, another calligraphic work by Asef Fekrat, from his book, Kufic Script, published by Kian-Ketab, Tehran, 1998.

KUFIC SCRIPT

AUthor: Asef Fekrat
Publisher: Kian Ketab
Tehran, Iran, 1998

Introduction:Kufic Script is directly derived from Hijazi Script, whose origin may in order be traced to Hirian, Nebtian, Anbarian, and etc.
Here we do not intend to examine the different views about the exact source and origin of the Kufic Script, and find the integrity of our investigation concerning this subject, which has hitherto been studied by many competent researchers. An analytic-descriptive definition of Kufic Script will be explained as an introduction to theme propounded in this work.
The available petrographs and existing documents, which belong to the first century (AH), indicates that in different kinds irregular arabesque writing Naskh and Kufic scripts have been carelessly used, and no rule or method was officially proposed to follow.





The objective has only been restricted to recording of the written materials and their concepts without paying attention to the elegance and artistic issues, which would have enriched those handwritings.
Such samples can be found in some available inscriptions on stones and in a few documents as well. But when calligraphy was employed in the service of the religion of Islam for the purpose of writing and recording holy Qur’anic verses, it entirely got changed and gradually paced at the path of perfection from viewpoint and aspect of art and elegance.
The first style of the Islamic writing in which the manifestation of art, delicacy and beauty are explicitly evident, is that of Kufic Script. As this very handwriting is said to have been developed in the city of Kufa, so it is called Kufic. The invention or innovation of this script has been ascribed to His Holiness Ali( A.S.).
During the first three centuries(A.H.), the Glorious Qu’ran was practically written and recorded with Kufic Script, while calligraphers of every land used to use there personal style and taste in this sort of handwriting. The nibs of their pens might have been different from one another, or tendency of vertical ribs of the letters towards left and right sides together with some other invented differences exerted in the chosen letters might have characterized the style and place of writing. Thus, various ways of inscribing letters like those of Kufic, Madani, Basri, Shami( Syrian), and Maghrebi scripts came to existence.
In spite of these differences so long as using the Kufic Script uses practically restricted to the Arabian Peninsula, no significant changes appeared in the original forms of this handwriting.
In fact Kufic Script can be known as the first and earliest calligraphy used in writing many copies of the Glorious Qur’an, which are still found here and there in every part of today’s world.
“E’rab” and “E’jam” ( sounds and point of vowels):
The early Kufic Script did not have any signs to display the correct pronunciation of words. Even dots were not used on or under the letters. However, in the course of time, signs for pronouncing vowels gradually appeared. Abul-Aswad- Doeli (688 AD) has been known as the first scribe who used such signs.


In the available copies, written in Kufic Script, cinnabar circles are more or less contiguous to the Arabic letters to show the proper sound of the desired pronunciation. Dots and points (E’jam) can bee seen in the following copies within our reach.
Signs for eloquent reciting Qur’nic Verses later appeared based on Choice and Convention of readers or Scribes of the Holy Qur’an. With the advent of Ibn-e- Moqla ( 328 AH) and Ibn-e- Bawwab (413 AH) the Kufic Script was no more used by the Arab calligraphers, and it was replaced by other scripts like Thulth, Raihan, Muhaqaq, and Naskh.
Thence the Arab Scribes only used Kufic Script in writing the rubrics of the Qur’anic Chapters and on the margins, which were mostly as decorative designs consisting of ceruse or gold work traces done on azure background.
In non-Arab Muslim lands, the use of Kufic script was not practically restricted to this aspect or dimension; instead in the course of time, it got evolution and was used in inscribing many epigraphs and writing books in a vast area stretching between the borders of China and Spain.
At the present time and era the Piramuz Kufic script has greatly acquired reputation as an eastern or Iranian Script. This form or style of writing is indeed beautiful from viewpoints of its elegant characteristics such as having regular separations between the related letters which make words.
In order to avoid spending much time for and on writing, the calligraphers gradually gave up the method or style of using separate letters in putting down a singl word; thus, new letters were regularly joined like those of Kufic or other words inscribed.
Although such a style of writing has been relatively transformed in the course of time, taking new kinds and shapes, and being used in different lands, ruled by different governments, yet it is still known as the eastern or Iranian Kufic Script. Large numbers of the copies of the Glorious Qur’an and too many books, written or printed in Farsi (Persian), as well as various manuscripts are, at present, available here and there in different libraries founded and found all over the world.
The reason of the long prevalence and vast circulation of this style of writing lies in its easy quality of being either written or read.
Having been use in the service of writing the Holy Qur’anic verses, different kinds of the Kufic Script became as sacred phenomenon and got a holy aspect. The calligraphers tried to create as more beautiful and charming letters and words as possible in innovative handwritings.
Thus, those skilled and tactful scribes and calligraphers carefully prepared many elegant and exquisite copies of the Glorious Qur’an.
It is worth mentioning here that various sorts of artistic symbols introduced natural things or manmade objects were used and observable in those sacred letters and words. The present description of the above-mentioned works cannot quench the thirst of those who may seize the opportunity of witnessing such beautiful copies and holy manuscripts with their own eyes. One can enjoy one’s time by watching for hours or even for days in appropriate occasions.
Despite the existence and availability of various copies of the Glorious Qur’an in different Kufic Scripts, preserved in authentic libraries, all over the world, it should undoubtedly be admitted that a large number of these beautiful and matchless copies are, at present, preserved and on display in the Astan Quds Library, in Mashad.
I have had the opportunity and the luck of witnessing such interesting collection for many years.
Having been used in architectural designs on the basis and tastes in the fashion of every land or vogue of time, the Kufic Script has been chronologically changed from viewpoint of its shape, style and inscription. The decorative design of this script can bee seen on some pillars, minarets, porches, and on the walls of palaces. These decoration have been either done through plaster-moldings or by stone-carvings. Some ingenious craftsmen or artisans have successfully shown their artistic creations concerning Kufic Script in fine and multicolored glayed tiles and sorted out bricks. The history of this covers a long period of 1000 years. In short one has to try much to discover the mysterious beauty and elegance of the different decorative designs skillfully used in presenting the Kufic script here and there in different objects and instances.
The manifestation of such Eslimi beauties has been spread from Al- Hamra Palace in Spain to the ruins of the Victory Garden in Ghazna. Reports and records have been hitherto prepared on these relics by the experts of calligraphy and graphology. Many of the examples found in the present collection have been given on the basis of such inscriptions.
M. Asef Fekrat
Mashad,
1998

LOVE AND BEAUTY- 9

AN ANTHOLOGY OF PERSIAN POETRY FROM 17TH CENTURY
(Selected and translated by Asef Fekrat)

Amusement
Repeating your sweet words, on our union days,
I amuse myself, in the lonely nights.

Corner of your lips
How can I have another desire?
My heart is settled
In the corner of your lips
Like a kiss

Like a kiss
She mentioned my name
How lucky I am?
I found a way
To the corner of her mouth
Like a kiss

Apple brandy
I am senseless drunk
By your sweating chin
How strong was your apple brandy?

Tell me
My soul?
- It is yours
My heart?
-It is yours
Your eyelashes say something
But I don’t understand
Tell me!Sun and crescent
Who is the sun?
A nurse of her face
Who is the crescent?
A fallen by her eyebrowsLike….
If I were not called a pagan
I would have said:
You are matchless
Like your creator

Eternal fire
If you want to burn me
Kindle by the fire of your face
And see, my ashes
Lightening forever

Ruby...

An Ode by Sa’di
(13th century C.E.)
O’ laughing darling! Who has tasted your ruby lips?
O’ garden of purity! Who has bitten the quince of your cheek?
Nobody has ever had such a beautiful hunt
Nobody has ever sliced such a sweet melon
Is that wine on your skirt? or, the blood of your victim?
Or the stain of the black mulberry?
You are associating with all, but escaping from me
It is not your guilt, but it is my misfortune
The fruit well no longer remain in the garden
When everybody knew it was ripe and sweet
It is good that the wall collapsed at once
So you won’t claim nobody has seen the garden
Remember the rose, yesterday, when it did not open its mouth
See it today, when its all secrets have gone with the wind
Sa’di, knock another door in dream of love
Leave this farm, where flocks have pastured
Translated by Asef Fekrat

ODE

By Hafez
The bird of garden sang unto the rose
New blown in the clear dawn: “Bow down thy head!
As fair as thou within this garden, close
Many have blown and died

She laughed and said:
That I am born to fade grieves not my heart;
But never was it a true lover’s part
To vex with bitter his Love’s repose

The tavern step shall be thy hostelry
For Love’s diviner’s breathe comes but to those
That suppliant on the dusty threshold lie

And thou, if you wouldn’t drink the wine that flows
From lives bejeweled goblet, ruby red,
Upon thy thine eyelashes thine eyes shall thread
A thousand tears for this temerity

Last night when Irem’s magic garden slept
Stirring the hyacinth’s purple tresses curled
The wind of morning through the alleys stept

Where is thy cup, the mirror of the world?
Ah, where is Love? Thou throne of Djam” I carried
The breeze knew not, but “Alas” they sighed,
“The happiness should sleep!” and wept

Not the lips of men Love’s secret lies
Remote unrevealed his dwelling place
Oh Saki, come the idle laughter dies
When thou the feast with heavenly wine dost grace

Patience and wisdom, Hafez in a sea
Of thine own tears are drowned; thy misery
They could not still nor hide from curious eyes.

(Translated by Gertrude Bell)
Here is the Persian Text::

صبحدم مرغ چمن با گل نو خاســـــــــته گفـــــت
ناز کم کن که بســــی چون تو درین باغ شکفت
گل بخنـــــــــــــــــدید که از راســـت نرنجیم ولی
هیچ عاشـــق سخن سخت به معشــــــوق نگفت
گر طمـــع داری ازان جام مرصّـــــــــــع می لعل
ای بســــــــــا دُر که به نوک مژه ات باید ســـفت
تا ابد بوی محبت به مشامش نرســــــــــــــــــــد
هر که خاک در میخانه به رخــــــــــــــسار نرفت
در گلســــــــــــــــــتان ارم دوش چو از لطف هوا
زلف سنبل به نسیم سحری می آشـــــــــــــــــفت
گفتم ای مســـــــــــــــــند جم جام جهان بینت کو؟
گفت افســـــــــــــــــوس که آن دولت بیدار بخفت
سخن عشق نه آنســـــــــــــــــــــت که آید به زبان
ســـــــــــــاقیا می ده و کوتاه کن این گفت و شنفت
اشـــــــــــــــــک حافظ خرد و صبر به دریا انداخت
چکند سوز غم عشق نیارســـــــــــــــــــــت نهفت

LOVE AND BEAUTY- 8

AN ANTHOLOGY OF PERSIAN POETRY FROM 17TH CENTURY

(Selected and translated by Asef Fekrat)

Awaken!
Welcome to the garden
Awaken by a smile
The nightingale’s eye
The luck of the breezeDefamed
Seeking you
Garden to garden
I am called:
Sensual by the nightingale
Faithless by the flower
Drunken eyes
Your drunken eyecups
Overflowing of wine
Eyelashes with both hands
Keep them so much fineGlad to be weak
I am glad I am so weak
My heart is fallen on your feet
I cannot pick it up
Wine
I got your letter
I can neither talk nor think
Might have you used wine
In your pen instead of ink

Lonely
Candle and butterfly
Flower and nightingale
All are together
We still apart
O my darling, come!
Have mercy on my lonely heartOffended
You are offended, O my darling,
From my rude look of my thirst
I am excused
I was thirsty
It was the firstDimple
Dimple of her chin
Looks like Joseph
Came out from the wellYour smell
Thousand smells of flowers
Come and go
Your smell
Stays in my mind forever
Alas
Dressed in red
I saw from far
Desiring you
I went near
Alas! You were not
I caught fire
Pretext
Leaving your home
I made a pretext
Forgot my heart
To see you againOld lover
O young darling
Sit nearer
I want to see you
Me, your old lover
I cannot see well
Even from nearJealous
I dare not send you
Anybody as a messenger
He who comes to you for once
Never returns, I am sure

LOVE AND BEAUTY-7

AN ANTHOLOGY OF PERSIAN POETRY FROM 17TH CENTURY(Selected and translated by Asef Fekrat)

Shying sweetheart
My sweetheart is childish
Shies away from messengers
Throw my letter on her way

Amorous gestures
From head to toes
Whenever I look at her
Amorous gestures
Poll my heart, saying:
It is the place!

Adventure
Do not tell anybody
From last night’s adventure
The gardener was asleep
The flower drunk
The nightingale released

Your face
After seeing your face,
If eye looks at flower
Walks on thorn,
Barefoot

Sweet smell
The rose,
If has not embraced my sweetheart,
Why does it have sweet smell of her shirt?

Excused
I am not sorry
For not depicting your lips
No need to depict the life-water

Travel
You are traveling
I am traveling too
You leave the city
I leave the world


I wish
I wish I were a breeze
Mixed with your smell
Hanging in your hair
Kiss your cheeks

Stranger
Since you have left
Breeze is enemy to flowers
Spring is a stranger

Sweat
Your shying sweaty cheeks,
In the mirror
Look like rose, under the water

Your hair
Breeze unlocked your hair
Flower gardens dance
Your shade
Upon my tomb
If you cast shade
The gravestone will shine
Like sun’s forehead

Sunshine
Under the blue shirt
Her body is dawn
From her collar
Appears sunshine

Sun and crescent
Is this your collar rent?
Or upon the sun
Shines the crescent
Center and circle
We are like the centre and circle
She turns around my heart
I turn around her body

Address
I asked your address from the sea
The water boiled up
The shell brought out ears
The fish lost its tongue

First day
On first day of your love
I cut the faith and the world in two pieces
And threw into the fire

Soul on fire
Is this your hair strand?
Upon your shiny face
Or my soul
Restless on fire

I have left it, it doesn’t leave me

A poor tutor, in a cold winter, wearing a one-fold robe, with his students was walking by a stream. The students saw that the water brought a fur, and told the teacher while he needed it, he could dive and take it. The tutor, who was really in need of such a warm cloak, dived to pick the fur. But it was not a fur; it was a bear, whose head was under the water, and was driven away by the flood. The bear grasped the poor tutor and the water carried both of them. The students shouted: Sir! Bring it, if you can, otherwise leave it and save yourself. The tutor answered helplessly: I have already left the fur, but the fur doesn’t leave me...!
Thank God that we have not the authority to go where we think is good for us, and it is another power that takes us, where we should be taken.From Feeh -maa –feeh by Rumi; selected and translated by Asef Fekrat

LOVE AND BEAUTY-6

AN ANTHOLOGY OF PERSIAN POETRY FROM 17TH CENTURY
(Selected and translated by Asef Fekrat)

Days and nights
Every night
I am thinking of leaving your love
But in the morning
I am your new lover

Never
My eyes
As old lovers
Have never seen
Such high eyebrows
Such long eyelashes

Fire
How warm you are?
As if your mother had been milked you fire
Instead of milk

Paradise
Looking at your face
In this room
Is watching the flower-garden
In Paradise

Childish
My mother
Had given me the pearl of heart to play
I am childish
I forget it wherever I go

Breeze of spring
Is it the breeze of spring?
Or you are coming?
Is it a flower laughing?
Or you are opening your collar?

God blessing
Did she open her collar for a moment?
Or the blessing window of God was opened and closed

Way
I seek a way
From your heart to mine
I do not know letter
I don not know message

Fire
Entered into my heart
But left immediately
As if she caught fire

In the morning
My sweetheart does not awake
Unless the sun kisses her hands and feet

Madness
Leave the love that makes you mad gradually
Good for me
I went mad from her first look

Hands and feet
With your feet
Shoes are vases
With your hands
Sleaves are candlesticks

Promise
Enlivened me promising
But killed me waiting
Such are fairly promises

First look
Her first look filled my cup
How may I afford the second?

A Heavenly Gift for Herat

Discovery of Grape and Wine in Herat -My Home City
Edited and translated by Asef Fekrat



Herat, on the west of Afghanistan, is an ancient city, with a long history. In Avesta (Darmester, Zand Avesta, 2110) is mentioned that “Herat is the sixth good place that God has created in the world”. Almost all historians and geographers, who have written about Herat, unanimously have told that it is one of most important, populous, fertile cities, and a centre of trade and full of knowledge goods. There are stories about famous kings, including Alexander the Great, who loved this city. Alexander built an Alexandria there about which are interesting stories. The city is also famous for its art and architecture. Herat, for its glorious period in 15th century, has gotten the title of the “Centre of the East Renaissance”. It is located on a crossroad of the world trade. It has been called the Gate of India because it always has been the first place that conquerors entered on their way to India.
It has four proper seasons, long and fantastic sunset, delicious fruits, beautiful pine and cedar trees, more than hundred kinds of grapes, and many other worth mentioning things. These several kinds of grapes all exist, and each one has its own name. Herati grapes are the world’s most famous and delicious grapes. It is as sweet and fine as if it doesn’t have skin. But the wonderful thing for the city is that there is an old story of discovery of wine there for the first time. The story of discovery of grapes and wine in Heart, is mentioned in a famous book - Nawrooznaama- that means ( the book on Equilibrium Day) written by great and famous scholar and poet of 12th century, Omar Khayyam. This story is also turned into poetry by Asef Fekrat. Here, you read a translation of that story that originally is written in Persian.

Wine a Heavenly Gift for Herat

In the heart of Asia
Is located an ancient city now called Herat
Its ancient names were Aria, Hari, and Herai
Once there was a king
Who lived in the citadel called Shamiran-dezh
It means the castle of Shamiran
Therefore, the king entitled Shamiran shah
Famous, brave, just and kind
Loved his subjects and they loved him
In his time, Herat was populous and the people were well-to-do
One day, around the Equinox that they call Nawrooz
The king, the royal family, and courtiers were in country side
Entertaining, hunting, and sightseeing
Suddenly, over their heads, in the deep sky, appeared an eagle
Coiled by a fearful serpent, looked miserable and helpless
Flapping its wings, as if it entreated for help
Shamiran shah addressed his courtiers:
“Who is who wants to save the eagle from this terrible serpent?”
His son, Prince Badhan, stood in front of his father; kissed the earth,
The king gave a hint that meant permission
The Prince kneeled, took the bow, pulled the arrow, targeted the serpent
Without harming the bird, the serpent fell far away, nailed into the earth by the arrow
The eagle, released, enjoyed its freedom and turned around the crowd, several times
One would say it was appreciating the Prince and thanking the king
Finally, the bird disappeared
That year passed well and another spring came
The countryside became green and trees flourished with blossoms
At the same time they were sitting at the same place
Perhaps, the story of the eagle and the serpent had been forgotten
Suddenly, the eagle reappeared
Free, and flapping its wings energetically and joyfully
Turned around, above their heads, several times
Fled down before the court of the king
Threw something from its beak on the earth
Then fled up, turned around the sky several times and disappeared
The king bade the servants to see what the bird had thrown
There were some seed or grain-like things, never seen before
Chief Gardener was summoned to examine what the seeds were
He kissed the earth in front of the king and said:
“God saves the king!
Since we can remember, nobody has seen nor mentioned such a thing
However, let us sow them and wait if they sprout and grow”.
***
They sew the seeds that sprang after some days
The little plant was quite different from the beginning
Fine and winding branches, beautiful well-shaped leaves
The plants grew and brought up clusters of fruit
When the fruit ripened, one would have said they were shining jewels
***
When the fruit looked quite ripened
Chief Gardener picked some clusters
Put them in golden plates and brought them to the king
The king was excited but said:
“Nobody should eat the fruit without experiment
Lest it be a poison “
Put the fruit in hives and take its juice
They put them into hives, and closed the doors
After some times the gardener saw that the hives were boiling
He came to inform the king
Kissed the earth and said:
“God saves our king, the juice in hive is boiling
Without heat and fire”
The physicians of the court said:
Let it boil now, and bring it when it ceased boiling
***
When the juice was ready
Chief Gardener poured some into crystal jars
Brought them to the court, and placed them in front of the king
The king summoned the ministers, physicians and wisemen
Told them to think what they should do
At last, they gave their advice to which the king agreed:
“At prison, there are many guilty people
Convicted to sentence, and waiting for execution
Give them some of this mysterious juice
If they died, they would have been punished
If they survived, let them be free as rewarded
***
They brought a prisoner who was to be executed the next day
Bade him to sit and gave him a cup of the juice
He avoided screaming: “No poison,
Kill me by a sword or hang me!”
However, soldiers forced him to drink
He frowned when he drank and said:
“I never had tasted such a bitter thing.”
But after a while, he rose his head and said:
“May I have another cup?”
They give him other cup and he wanted more
After a third cup and he wanted fourth
They gave him as much as he asked
The more he drank the more he liked to drink
His face became ablaze and his eyes turned red
He laughed, he screamed, he wept, he cried
He said different things he never would have said before
Eventually, he fell in a deep heavy sleep
He remained asleep for three days and three nights
When he got up he said: “Where is that miraculous water?
Please give me some more.”
The king released him as a thanksgiving
****
Then the king summoned all wisemen and all physicians
To decide and test the mysterious drink
They agreed that it was a gift from God and had come from the heaven
But no one should exceed drinking
If one drinks orderly and in a proper way
It will be like the water of life and antidote
But if one exceeds in drinking it will be worse than a poison
They celebrated the event all around country
Then the king ordered to distribute the seeds all over the country
After some time there grew numerous grape gardens and orchards
They called the plant “tak” and “raz”
They called the grapes “angoor”
They called the wine “ mai”
Khayyaam, the great Persian poet and scholar says:
If you drink wine, drink with wise people
Or drink with a beautiful smiley tulip-face sweetheart
Don’t drink too much, don’t be addicted, don’t drink in public
Drink sometimes, drink a little, and drink in private.

Resources:
Darmesteter. Zand Avesta -------> Uraniski. Iranian Etymology. Tehran. ?
Khayyam, Omar. Nawrooznaama (Persian). Editor: Mojtaba Minowi. Tehran. 1321 (Persian calendar).
Saifi Herawi. ( The History of Herat ) (Persian). Editor: Zobair Seddiqi. Culcutta – India. 1943http://www.globalgourmet.com/food/wineday/2000/wd0900/wd090500.html

Lost One

I heard that a Kurd lost his camel in a desert
He searched for the camel but did not find
He could do nothing but to sleep by the way
Sad and grieved for the camel
The day went and the night came
The moon enlightened the desert
The Kurd awoke, heart full of sorrow
But he saw the camel standing under the moonlight
He looked at the moon and said:
How can I praise you?
You are good, nice, beautiful and bright

O Lord! Kindle a light in this desert
So the human wisdom may find its lost one..!
From an ode by Rumi, translated by Asef Fekrat

Mirror at night*

The heart again excited:”O’ God! O’God! ”
The night passed, and without coming dawn, here, another night

Tears flew down from eyelashes, ineffectively
So I felt sorrow for the fall- down of stars

I saw the manner of the wise-men of our time
Our mad was the most polite one

Without you, I imagined the Paradise
It was a death, visiting a fever

I am ashamed unto the waiting custom
I gave, but the ghost that I didn’t have

O, drinkers, there is a message on the edge-line of the wine-cup
The messenger came from the territory of natural disposition

Don’t expect feeling ashamed from statesmen
Where dignity comes, morality leaves

Beware of leaving the honour
Whenever you request anything from anyone

I tried to reach to an ear like a speech
I heard from all, but no one heard from me

It is examined: the less one has
The more one is comfortable

Beedil, I didn’t meet the reality
I got the mirror, but at night
By Beedil, translated by Asef Fekrat

* Beedil, Abdul –Qader(d.1755 CE) is the greatest poet of Hindi School in Persian Poetry. Here you read a translation of one of Beedil’s odes.

You Don’t Go Away

If the vision, the wisdom and the soul go, you don’t go away
I don’t need them, but I need you; you don’t go away
The sun and the heaven are under your shadow
If this sky and sun go, let them go; you don’t go away
O thou, whose toughest words are more lenient than a fine nature
If the purity of this poetic gift goes, you don’t go away
You don’t go, or take my soul with you;
Otherwise you don’t go away
With you, every part of the world is garden or flower bed
In the autumn, if the splendour of gardens goes, you don’t go away
Don’t show me your separation; your separation is cruel
O thou, that stone of Badakhshan are ruby for you, you don’t go away
Who is a particle to tell the sun “you don’t go away!”?
Who is a slave to tell the king “you don’t go away!”?
But you are the water of life and all creatures are fish
It is your kindness and mercy; you don’t go away
The sheet of my heart, as long as the eternity
Written from top to bottom: YOU DON’T GO AWAY

By Rumi - translated by Asef Fekrat

LOVE AND BEAUTY-5

LOVE AND BEAUTY-5AN ANTHOLOGY OF PERSIAN POETRY FROM 17TH CENTURY
(Selected and translated by Asef Fekrat)
Tomorrow-less
So much better with you,
The longest winter night
No, a tomorrowless night

My Letter
Tore my letter,
Without reading
It is another sign
Knowing the subject

Pigeon
I wrote thee a letter
Submitted it to my heart
Faster than all carrier- pigeons

She cannot
She can do anything
But cannot forget me

Ignorance
Ignored me intentionally
You did well
As I watched you better

Together
You with me
Like wave with coast
Coming near-
Running from

Even for once
O drunk of mincing
Even if pour it on earth
Take the cup from my hand
Even for once

Better
Have mentioned me
But at the margin of her letter to my foe
Alas
So much better your forgetfulness was!

Never
For my heart
I shall take
Either a kiss or an abuse
But never back my heart

Quenched lamp
With enlightening cheeks
Wherever you strut
Enlighten by you skirt’s breeze
Quenched lamps

Get the start
In this spring
Even flower cannot find a place
In the garden
Get the start of the verdure
At the bed of the Brooke

Gift
Every stone
Which my enemies throw
For your love
I take as a gift to my friends

First look
From your first look
Yet I have some wine
At the bottom of my cup

Hundred answers
O messenger!
Don’t blame my sweetheart
By tearing my letter.
She sent me hundred answers

First show
From your first show
The sun fell from the sky
From the first motion of your hand
The moonlight was spilled
From the edge of the roof

Days and nights
Thy nights pass like the nights of flowers
My days like the days of nightingales
My life passed in disturbance for your hair
Like water in the shade of hyacinth

LOVE AND BEAUTY-4

LOVE AND BEAUTY-4
AN ANTHOLOGY OF PERSIAN POETRY FROM 17TH CENTURY
(Selected and translated by Asef Fekrat)

Lasso
With a lasso from thy black hair
I will catch my gone life

Long life
I lengthen my short life
Till the Last Day
Attaching to thy hair

Chain
I like unlocking the curls of your hair
With my teeth
Like a mad
Chewing his chain

All together
Drunkenness, madness, and ecstasy
Collected by your eyes
Poured together in my cup

Beauty
Thy hanging hair
A rare night
Thy blazing face from wine
Wonderful twilight

FragileMy heart
A fragile cup
Thy eyes drunk
Lest they break it funning

Shelled almond
Thy body, clean silver
Delicate, like shelled almond
Thy eyes, ravens
Eyebrows, raven’s feather

Eyelashes
Thou, ravished my heart
Ask why my eyes are red?
Frankly I say:
I am restless from thy turned eyelashes

If…
If your eyes have a glance upon me
Almond blossom shall grow forever
On my tomb

Blue eyes
Kindle a blue candle
Upon my tomb
I am martyr of European blue eyes

Gazelle
Thy eyes,
The gazelles who capture the lions
Not being tamed,
Not startled

Sedition
Thy black eyes
Excited a sedition in the city
The gazelles closed the door of desert

Eyelashes
Thy quarrelsome eyelashes
Splits the heart of rock
Fire sweats from thy charming look

Syrup
Wanted to look at me
Looked at herself
She drank her patient’s medical syrup

Fresh
Why should I smell a flower?
My mind is, forever
Fresh from thy hair

Musk
I wrote thy hair’s description
Sweet smell arose from the paper

LOVE AND BEAUTY-3

LOVE AND BEAUTY-3
AN ANTHOLOGY OF PERSIAN POETRY FROM 17TH CENTRY
(Selected and translated by Asef Fekrat)


Thee or soul?
In my life,
How can I describe thy place?
You are in my heart?
Or it is my soul!

Days and nights
Days, I worry for nights
Being without you
Nights, I am restless for tomorrow

Broken room
You did well
Left my heart
No one lives in broken room

Plunder
I had a religion
A heart
And a sure-mind
All are plundered
By curled hair and drunk eyes

Rose
Mincing, sprays rose-water on her body
Stranger rose – smell
Finds its homeland

Sun and dew
Lovely sweat drops
On your cheeks
Reconcile sun with dew

Sun flower
A drop or your sweat
Trickled on the earth
Grew sun flower

Sweat drops
Sweat drops on your face
Flood victims
My wisdom and sense

Empty breast
So fine and spiritual are you
Embracing you
I feel empty my breast

Breeze
My flower branch
Thin and fine
Can not afford embracing

Your flower bed
Your stature-cypress
Your cheeks-purples
No need going to a garden
Have garden at home

Eyebrow- knot
Your cheerful face
Is it eyebrow-knot?
Or dew on rose!

Picture
Amazed of your beauty
I am lifeless
Like a picture on the wall

Your hand
Spring is thankful
You picked off flowers
Your hand keeps them fresher
Breeze
Is it breeze playing with your skirt?
Or curtain shivers upon a silver statue!

Where
Where were you grown?
O strutting cypress!
Charming, like a spring dream