Gracefully she approached
Gracefully she approached,
in a dress of bright blue silk;
With an olive branch in her hand,
and many tales of sorrows in her eyes.
Running to her, I greeted her,
and took her hand in mine:
Pulses could still be felt in her veins;
warm was still her body with life.
"But you are dead, mother", I said;
"Oh, many years ago you died!"
Neither of embalmment she smelled,
Nor in a shroud was she wrapped.
I gave a glance at the olive branch;
she held it out to me,
And said with a smile,
"It is the sign of peace; take it."
I took it from her and said,
"Yes, it is the sign of...", when
My voice and peace were broken
by the violent arrival of a horseman.
He carried a dagger under his tunic
with which he shaped the olive branch
Into a rod and looking at it
he said to himself:
"Not too bad a cane
for punishing the sinners!"
A real image of a hellish pain!
Then, to hide the rod,
He opened his saddlebag.
in there, O God!
I saw a dead dove, with a string tied
round its broken neck.
My mother walked away with anger and sorrow;
my eyes followed her;
Like the mourners she wore
a dress of black silk.
By Simin Behbahani (Khalili)
A beautiful poem by an Iranian lady poet. I have been searching for Islamic intellectuals recently and I think I just found one .. Either I am searching in the wrong place or they are an endagered species.. The importance of artists--poets, writers , painters and sculptors does not arise from the harmony they bring but rather from their ability to have an independent view-point.
Read more here http://www.iranchamber.com/literature/sbehbahani/simin_behbahani.php
and here A Poet Who 'Never Sold Her Pen or Soul'
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