#StreetArtist #Nafir in #Tehran #Iran for Brave #Women of #Kobani: image via Mariamsabzi @Mariamirani, 11 October 2014
The Wind Will
Take Us
In my small night, ah
the wind has a date with the leaves of the trees
in my small night there is agony of destruction
listen
do you hear the darkness blowing?
I look upon this bliss as a stranger
I am addicted to my despair.
listen do you hear the darkness blowing?
something is passing in the night
the moon is restless and red
and over this rooftop
where crumbling is a constant fear
clouds, like a procession of mourners
seem to be waiting for the moment of rain.
a moment
and then nothing
night shudders beyond this window
and the earth winds to a halt
beyond this window
something unknown is watching you and me.
O green from head to foot
place your hands like a burning memory
in my loving hands
give your lips to the caresses
of my loving lips
like the warm perception of being
the wind will take us
the wind will take us.
Forugh Farrokhzad (1935-1967): The Wind Will Take Us, translated by Ahmad Karimi Hakkak in The Persian Book Review, Vol. III, No. 12
In my small night, ah
the wind has a date with the leaves of the trees
in my small night there is agony of destruction
listen
do you hear the darkness blowing?
I look upon this bliss as a stranger
I am addicted to my despair.
listen do you hear the darkness blowing?
something is passing in the night
the moon is restless and red
and over this rooftop
where crumbling is a constant fear
clouds, like a procession of mourners
seem to be waiting for the moment of rain.
a moment
and then nothing
night shudders beyond this window
and the earth winds to a halt
beyond this window
something unknown is watching you and me.
O green from head to foot
place your hands like a burning memory
in my loving hands
give your lips to the caresses
of my loving lips
like the warm perception of being
the wind will take us
the wind will take us.
Forugh Farrokhzad (1935-1967): The Wind Will Take Us, translated by Ahmad Karimi Hakkak in The Persian Book Review, Vol. III, No. 12
#StreetArtist #NAFIR #graffiti #IRAN #pregnant #women: image via Saeed Choobani @saeed_choobani, 14 September 2014
RT @meidaandotcom: #Nafir #Graffiti in #Tehran #Iran for #Kobane: image via jadi @jadi, 13 October 2014
#Nafir #Graffiti #STOPACIDATTACKSONWOMEN #StopAcidAttacksIran for #Kobane: image via Sheida Hooshmandi @Sh_Hooshmandijadi, 24 October 2014
#NAFIR #TEHRAN: image via Hadi @skiey1, 21 November 2014
#street_art #nafir: image via Mohsen @semo1365, 11 December 2014
RT @publicartfound: Tehran - Lavasan #streetart by #nafir #newpublicart: image via semprecontro @semprecontro, 13 December 2014
#NAFIR: image via soheil @SoheilMigrant, 1 January 2015
Bunch of clowns #streetart by #NAFIR: image via StreetArtAvenue @vidos, 13 January 2015
#Bunch #Of #Clowns #streetart #Nafir: image via Essouflée @Kian_A_, 15 January 2015
#Iran street artist #Nafir pays tribute to victims of the #planecrash today in #Tehran. #art #StreetArt @GEsfandiari: image via Iran Style @Iran_Style, 10 August 2014
#NAFIR: image via soheil @SoheilMigrant, 14 August 2014
#Nafir #graffiti #streetart #Iran: image via Kaveh Ghoreishi @KavehGhoreishi, 8 July 2014
#art #streetart #graffiti #Nafir #iran: image via 1973 @hypatia373, 30 March 2015
#Nafir #graffiti #streetart #Iran: image via Kaveh Ghoreishi @KavehGhoreishi, 6 September 2014
Artist #Nafir (Scream) #Teheran #Iran. Fabulous Street Art / Mural. #art #streetart #mural: image via Street Art @GoogleStreetArt, 21 April 2014
6 comments:
beautiful poem...that is art street...yes!
The great Iranian poet Forugh Farrokhzad died in a car crash at 32.
The cinematic masterpiece of her contemporary Abbas Kiarostami, The Wind Will Carry Us, draws inspiration from and alludes through its title to the Farrokhzad poem posted here.
Here she reads her last poem.
Farrokhzad's poetry continues to be read, and along with the example of her life, remains emblematic of the resistance and struggle of the spirit in an overwhelmingly materialistic world.
The finest poetry always yields hints and provocations about life and its meaning that extend beyond the strictly literary.
"For the world... is a battlefield of wishes, which are limitless and cannot be satisfied except for a moment. Money expresses man's permanent dissatisfaction, which is the spring of his activity, his achievements, and his profound unhappiness. Like desire itself, money is destroyed only to be reborn, like the lovely nymph in Forough Farrokhzad's last poem:
Dying each night with a kiss
To come alive with a kiss in the morning
-- John Buchan, Frozen Desire
Nafir is a strongly political artist, who has devoted much of his work to the cause of women's rights in his country. Last year he published in an Iranian magazine a stark series of collaged images of acid attacks on women.
Beautiful words and images, this Spring.
On the green one, I love this line by Betjeman:
'Whatever remains green is more deeply, richly green than it was before.'
AH! a woman who knows
heartbreak. . .
oh. i don't know. i'm afraid i feel so failed in this. am so failed. and why do i allow it?
i watched the movie. loved it. did not search out the poetry. did not know it was a woman's voice. assumed otherwise, actually. or learned and forgot. why?!
***
i marvel at how the colour green holds both life and fire inside itself. and it does. poetry asks us to believe it, but we already believe it and come to poetry with this knowledge sewn into our veins. how curious.
***
in the face of what is and what's to come, what's left but for us to touch?
Art is Dead? Perhaps it is
the old "if a tree falls in
the forest. . ." question?
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