Two poems by Ahmad Shamlu

Translated from Farsi by Sheida Dayani
Ahmad Shamlou (1925-2000)
The Secret
A secret was with me;
I told the mountain.
A secret was with me;
I told the well.
On the lengthy path,
Alone and lonesome,
I told the black horse
I told the stones…
With my old secret
At last I arrived.
I uttered no words
You uttered no words;
I was shedding tears
You were shedding tears.
Then I sealed my lips
You read from my eyes…
The Fish
Never has been my heart,
I think,
So crimson and warm:
At the worst seconds
Of this deadly night,
I feel,
Thousands of founts of sun
Spout with certitude
in my heart.
In every corner
Of this salt-desert of despair,
Thousands of vivacious woods,
I feel,
Grow sudden out of ground.
You! My lost certitude!
You runaway fish!
Slipping in and out
Of lakes of mirror!
A filtering pond am I;
Now with the sorcery of love,
Seek a way towards I
From the lakes of mirror!
Never has been my hand,
I think,
This gay and grand:
With a waterfall of crimson tear
in my eye
I feel,
Breathes a dusk-less sun of an anthem.
In every vein of mine
With every beat of my heart,
I feel,
Chimes now the awakening of a caravan.
She entered through the door one night
Nude as the water’s soul;
Her breasts: two fish,
Hands, holding a mirror,
Her hair: moss-smelling,
Twisted as moss.
At the threshold of despair,
Cried I:
“My found certitude!
Of you,
I will not let go of you.”
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