On a Line from Forough Farrokhzad
It had rained that day. It had primed a world
with gold, pure gold, wheatfield, stubble and hill.
It had limned the hills as a painter would,
an amateur painter, but the hills were real.
It had painted a village lemon and straw,
all shadow and angles, cockerel, goats and sheep.
It had scattered their noises, bleats and blahs,
raising a cloud, a white dog chasing a jeep.
It had travelled through amber, ochre, dust
and dust the premise of everything gold,
dust the promise of green. Green there was
but in the face of a sun no leaf could shield.
It had rained that day. It was previous,
previous as wind to seed. O wild seed,
as these words proved. ‘The wind will carry us’
– bad ma ra khahad bord – and it did.
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2 comments:
"It had rained that day. It had primed a world
with gold, pure gold, wheatfield, stubble and hill.
It had limned the hills as a painter would,
an amateur painter, but the hills were real."
My kingdom for that first stanza! It's pure feeling pouring forth. Love the rhythm: rained, primed, gold, stubble, hill, limned (then the intonation rises and falls quickly), then flat tone for 'an amateur painter', pause, 'but the hills were real'.
Many thanks.
Greetings from London.
i loved that too!
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