Sohrab Sepehri: In The Meadow
The turfs of such vastness;
The mounts of such heights;
... The meadow is engulfed by the fresh scent of the grass.
In that remote parish,
I was looking for something,
Maybe a dream, perhaps a fistful of sands,
Or a lightening, a smile,
Yes, something:
A fleeting trance
at least.
Behind the willows,
There is an innocent sense
-made of oblivion and of original void-
It is constantly calling my name.
I stay besides the reeds,
And I listen;
But,
Who is talking to me?
Who is calling my name?
**&**
A lizard slipped into the river,
I leave.
Ryes on my way.
Then it comes the green sight of the farms,
And forgetfulness that stream in the air...
**&**
I stay by the waterway,
I ousted my shoes, feet in the torrent:
Oh, so green I feel at this moment!
And so fluid, so sharp all my senses are!
So aware!
**&**
Who is behind the trees?
No one, only a lonely cow!
It is the noon,
-of a warm summer day-
Even the shadows know the name of the season.
The shadows are spotless and dense.
And in my bright, tidy space,
all the children of sense
Sometimes play, sometimes rest.
**&**
Life is not empty:
There is kindness,
And there is apple
and there is faith.
Life is full,
wherever flowers dare to bloom...
It is true, so true:
Till the last tulip
Life goes on worthwhile.
And now,
Now,
There is something in my heart;
And I am so restless,
Restless like a storm:
I like to run till the end of this perish
to the summit of this mount;
to the end of the perish-
summit of the mounts!
**&**
Faraway,
There is a Voice.
The Voice
is constantly calling my name.
The turfs of such vastness;
The mounts of such heights;
... The meadow is engulfed by the fresh scent of the grass.
In that remote parish,
I was looking for something,
Maybe a dream, perhaps a fistful of sands,
Or a lightening, a smile,
Yes, something:
A fleeting trance
at least.
Behind the willows,
There is an innocent sense
-made of oblivion and of original void-
It is constantly calling my name.
I stay besides the reeds,
And I listen;
But,
Who is talking to me?
Who is calling my name?
**&**
A lizard slipped into the river,
I leave.
Ryes on my way.
Then it comes the green sight of the farms,
And forgetfulness that stream in the air...
**&**
I stay by the waterway,
I ousted my shoes, feet in the torrent:
Oh, so green I feel at this moment!
And so fluid, so sharp all my senses are!
So aware!
**&**
Who is behind the trees?
No one, only a lonely cow!
It is the noon,
-of a warm summer day-
Even the shadows know the name of the season.
The shadows are spotless and dense.
And in my bright, tidy space,
all the children of sense
Sometimes play, sometimes rest.
**&**
Life is not empty:
There is kindness,
And there is apple
and there is faith.
Life is full,
wherever flowers dare to bloom...
It is true, so true:
Till the last tulip
Life goes on worthwhile.
And now,
Now,
There is something in my heart;
And I am so restless,
Restless like a storm:
I like to run till the end of this perish
to the summit of this mount;
to the end of the perish-
summit of the mounts!
**&**
Faraway,
There is a Voice.
The Voice
is constantly calling my name.
