Poems of Fatemeh Rezanejad (Iran)

Interpretation
Fatemeh Rezanejad
Iran

I had a dream
In my dream
I saw you came
with the plea to stay
In your hands.

I had remained
in the cottage of silence,
flipping through
the sunsets
one by one.
I poured tea;
bitter,
like the night
it took your name back
from my lips.
Memories
passed through the corner of my eye,
and the night
stayed awake
until dawn.
Behind the window,
a bird
entrusted its song
to the morning.
When dawn broke,
the window brightened.
I placed the second cup
on the table.
Still,
there was no sound of a footstep,
yet
the tea
remained warm.




A Woman
Fatemeh Rezanejad


A woman
in her solitude
Is engaged in a soliloquy
monologuing to herself,
and moment by moment,
the threads of her longing
are woven
on the loom of patience.
Night,
like a wild horse,
gallops full speed
until dawn.
In the jungle of dreams,
the locks of wild grass
are dancing.
Yet,
when she comes to her senses,
It is the same old story.



The Lady of Water and Mirrors!
Fatemeh Rezanejad


(For Rana Moqtadar, the poet from Afghanistan,
On her birthday)


Rana,
The Lady of water and mirrors,
From what cradle of knowledge have you come,
That the scent of books
Still flows through your breath?

From a land
Where, in the mornings,
Girls stand
With closed schoolbags
Behind silent doors;
And the school bell
Has been rusting
In the blackboard’s sleep for years.
You are the phoenix of this dust;
Time and again,
You rise from the ashes of war
With wings
Steeped in sunlight.
Rabi'a remained within her ghazals,
But you wrote the ghazal
With your footsteps
In the alleys of Kabul;
Amid cold walls
And windows
That rarely open to the sky.
In your eyes,
Varqa and Golshah
Still approach
From the distant reaches of myth,
Only this time,
The red rose
Does not fall from the woman’s hand.
You are the kin of women
Who, at night,
Drape their scarves over the lamp
So a child
May secretly read a book.
Women
Who divided bread in the midst of war
And saved the dream
For tomorrow.
Rana,
You are water and mirror.
Every stone thrown your way
Shattered your reflection,
Yet the water,
Once again,
Remembered the moon.
And still,
In the farthest window,
A lamp stays lit;
Perhaps a girl
In the dark
Is writing her own name.
_____________
Poet :
Fatemeh Rezanezad
Iran
Translated by:
Khan Hasnain Aaqib
India