Showing posts with label Poem. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Poem. Show all posts

Mar 9, 2025

What is a refugee?

I found this following refugee poem by chance. It is by an Afghanistani poet, Raziq Faani, and I thought I would regret it later if I did not translate it.
-----

One morning, from the children’s playground,
My little one returned with tearful eyes,
And with the lump in his throat, he asked:
"Tell me, dad!
What is a refugee?
Is it an insult or just a name?"

At his question, a sorrow filled my heart,
And a tear slipped uncontrollably down my cheek
Quietly, I wiped it away with the back of my hand,
As my mind searched for the right words.

I told him:
"Look, my dear child,
Do you know what homeland means?"
He nodded, "Yes,
You once told me,
That homeland is where our ancestors lived."
I kissed his face,
And with a heavy heart, I added:
"If one dark night,
A band of thieves and marauders burn your dad's home,
And set fire to everything,
and you, in fear, run away,
Spending nights on the streets of strangers,
You will become a refugee, my child,
You will become a wanderer, my dear."

A fresh tear welled up in my child's eyes, 
And sorrow clouded his spirit,
Then he said, "I understand now,
A refugee is someone with no home!"
And I turned his simple words into a verse:
Murmuring under my breath:
"You spoke wisely, my dear,
“A refugee is one with no home,
A refugee is a pigeon without a nest."

Here is the original poem in Farsi:


شعر از رازق فانی :

‎مهاجر چیست؟

‎سحرگاهی، ز بازیگاه طفلان،

‎کودکم با چشم تر برگشت،

‎و با بغضی که بودش در گلو پرسید:

‎«بگو بابا!

‎مهاجر چیست؟

‎دشنام است، یا نام است؟»

‎از آن پرسش، دلم لبریز یک فریاد خونین شد،

‎و مروارید اشکی،

‎از کنار چشم من، بی پرده پایین شد،

‎ولی آهسته چشمم را به پشت دست مالیدم،

‎و در ذهنم برای آنچنان پرسش جواب نغز پالیدم.

‎بدو گفتم:

‎«ببین فرزند دلبندم،

‎تو میدانی که میهن چیست؟»

‎بگفت: «آری،

‎تو خود روزی به من گفتی،

‎که میهن خانهی اجداد را گویند»

‎زدم بوسی به رخسارش،

‎و غمگینانه افزودم:

‎«اگر در یک شب تاریک،

‎مشتی دزد و رهزن، خانهی بابات را سوزند،

‎و هر سو آتش افروزند،

‎و تو از وحشت دزدان، برون آیی،

‎و شبها را به روی سنگفرش مردم دیگر بیاسایی،

‎مهاجر میشوی فرزند،

‎مسافر میشوی دلبند»

‎سرشک تازهای چشمان فرزند مرا تر کرد،

‎و اندوهی روانش را مکدر کرد،

‎و آنگه گفت: «دانستم

‎مهاجر آدم بیخانه را گویند!»

‎و من مصراع شعر ساده اش را ساختم تک بیت:

‎و در زیر لب افزودم: نکو گفتی عزیز من،

‎«مهاجر آدم بیخانه را گویند

‎مهاجر قمری بیلانه را گویند»

Feb 17, 2021

a time unlike now

I reminisce
that rotting wooden bench
on Louther street
next to the library and
across from the Lutheran Church
we used to sit
you always insisted
"let's tarry awhile"

a time
unlike now,
like ephemeral past
sends new nostalgic
errands

Dec 22, 2016

Loiq Sher-Ali: A Notable Poet of Tajikistan

Loiq Sher-Ali (1941-2000) was born in a small village called Mazar-e Sharif (it shouldn't be confused with the city of Mazar-e Sharif which is one of the four largest city in Afghanistan) of the Panjakent district in the Sughd Region of Tajikistan. Shir-Ali was a notable figure in the Persian literary milieu of the twentieth century. He was strongly influenced by his countryman Abdollah Jafar ibn Mohammad Rudaki. Stylistically he was under the influence of Ferdowsi’s Shahnameh (Book of Kings) and Omar Khayyam’s poetry. Themes in his poetry are diverse. Commonly he is believed to be a cheerful poet, one can scarcely finds sadness and sorrow in his poetry.
His complete works have been fully published in 2001 in both cyrillic and Farsi script. Here is a sample of his poetry that I translated from Tajiki into English:


If you can’t make me laugh, don’t make me cry
If you can’t help me, don’t hurt me

If you can’t make me happy, don’t remind me of joy
If you can’t make me joyful, don’t make me tearful

From the four corners of life to the pathway of life
If you can’t be a protector, don’t be an invader

If you haven’t been befuddled, don’t try it
With vaunt and flaunt, don’t try to fool me

Your body is free of any pain of being in love
Your hands are empty, don’t make mine empty

You haven’t seen the world, don’t promise me the world
You haven’t seen the sea, don’t make me thirsty for the storm


In Tajiki 
Хандон агар намекунӣ, гирён макун маро,
Обод агар намекунӣ, вайрон макун маро.

Хушбахт агар намекунӣ, аз бахт дам мазан,
Шодон агар намекунӣ, нолон макун маро.

Дар чорсӯи зиндагӣ то кӯи зиндагӣ,
Раҳбон агар намешавӣ, сарсон макун маро.

Ҳайрони дил набудаӣ як лаҳза худ ба худ,
Бо лофу бо газофҳо ҳайрон макун маро.

Ҷонат тиҳист аз ғами ҷонсӯзи ошиқӣ,
Дасти тиҳӣ ту ин ҳама дастон макун маро.

Дунё надида, ваъдаи дунё мадеҳ ба ман,
Дарё надида, ташнаи тӯфон макун маро.

Лоиқ Шералӣ
[1986]


In Farsi
خندان اگر نمی کنی، گریان مکن مرا
آباد اگر نمی کنی، ویران مکن مرا
خوشبخت اگر نمی کنی، از بخت دم مزن
شادان اگر نمی کنی، نالان مکن مرا
در چارسوی زندگی تا کوی زندگی
رهبان اگر نمی شوی,سرسان مکن مرا
حیران دل نبوده‌ای یک لحظه خود به خود
با لاف و با گزافها حیران مکن مرا
جانت تهیست از غم جانسوز عاشقی
دست تهی تو این همه دستان مکن مرا
دنیا ندیده وعدهٔ دنیا مده به من
دریا ندیده تشنهٔ طوفان مکن مرا

(Trans. Nasim Fekrat, December 22, 2016)

For further reading about Loiq Sher-Ali and his poetry, please visit this link

Jul 3, 2016

Pashto Love Poem

Millions of people speak in Pashto language, but not many people around the world know how beautiful the language is. Today, I was searching for Pashto landei - literally means short, only two lines - I stumbled upon a four lines love poem, which I thought deserved to be translated into English. That is what I did.
---------
Lover,
he cries
day and night,
the pain of his love
but the beloved is a stony-hearted one
who spills blood from the lover's heart

Oh, her eyes!
her eyebrows,
like bows of war
shoot the eyelashes
into my heart.

O people!
Don't you see the wounds of her arrows in my heart?

مین چه آشنایی کا، شپه ور څ به گریانی کا
شهی، ده ستمگاره، خوشحال ز ړ و به زخمی کا
لندۍ لری د ورڅـیو، با ڼو غشی کاری‌کا
پرهار می گوره خلقه، دَ دلبر دَ تیر نبنان سو

In Farsi

عاشق، دردِ عشق خویش می‌گرید، شب‌ها و روزها
معشوقه‌، جفاکار است، می‌ريزد خونِ سرخ قلبش را
ابروانش کمان جنگی است و تيرهايِ مژگانش کشنده
ای مردم زخم‌های تیر كمان یار را در من ببینید

Poet: Unknown
(Trans. Nasim Fekrat, July 03, 2016)