Treasure Island

Forough Farrokhzad

(5 January 1935 - 14 February 1967 / Tehran)

My Beloved


My beloved,
with his bare bold body-
rose over his legs,
fearless like death.

On his firm face,
an array of fine lines-
was tailored by the revolt-
of his limbs.

My beloved surely belongs-
to a faded clan.

In the depths of his eyes, it seems-
A Tartar is constantly on guard-
for the advent of knights.

In brightness of his teeth, it seems-
a primal man- is patiently waiting-
for cornering a prey.

My beloved is like the earth-
in his blunt fated air,
in his concrete, cruel rule.

My beloved is wildly free.
My beloved is like a whole instinct-
In the core of a dark isolated isle.

My beloved is originally estranged,
like veiled gods, like lone monks.
My beloved is a male from the ancient eras,
and from the natural age of beauty.

By his tread, he awakens-
the innocent sense of youth.

With his aura, he reminds-
the fond flavor of mythical tales.

He loves with such a faith-
all bits of life, all tads of soil
all laughs and all the sorrows.

He loves with such a faith-
The void roads of the parish, the green veins of the trees
the slight smell of soap, the fresh taste of milk.

My beloved surely belongs-
to a faded clan.

My beloved,
He is a natural man.
And in this wicked wonderland
He must hide away.

My beloved,
He is a simple man.
And like the last rest of the vast past beliefs,
I hide him always away,
in the wake of warmth of my breasts.


Translation: Maryam Dilmaghani, September 2006, Montreal.

Submitted: Thursday, December 29, 2011

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