I cannot help crying everytime i read Sohrab. It’s not that i’m sad or anything. But he simply overwhelms me with beauty, with wisdom, with life, with his visions and his simplicity.
I was never a big fan of poetry growing up. Especially modern (persian) poetry which lacked the rhyme and rhythm of classical poetry. Then something happened. I slowly began to be drawn towards it. The first was a poem by Akhavan Saales called Kateebeh (The Inscription): the tale of the journeyers who find the large boulder in the desert. That poem shook me to my roots. It was a voice for exactly the kind of journey i had begun not to long before that myself. Then slowly i became acquainted with Forugh, Moshiri (which i adore with all my being). Sohrab, I had trouble understanding at first, so i gave up. Then when i started actually writing poetry myself, i discovered beauty of metaphors. And now coming back to Sohrab I find myself faced with the most beautiful and delicate and wise soul.
Now at nights i sit in my room, light a candle, put on music and read Sohrab and involuntarily cry. I wish i could put his stuff here, but it’s far too much, and i would have to work hard to translate it properly if i am to do any justice to it. Another time perhaps …
The last week I’ve been reading “The sound of the footfalls of Water” which is what i consider his magnum opus (if such a thing is possible to designate) and each time i sink deeper and deeper in awe of his words. Now i am convinced that this was an enlightened man speaking. A man misunderstood by EVERYONE, with the most beautiful and simple view on life. “Taa shaghayegh hast, zendegi bayad kard” (As longs as there are Poppy’s life must go on). A man with the most delicate soul. (And to think that he was in love for sometime with my mother’s sister too! but she of course did not feel the same way towards him…).
Here is an excerpt :
I don’t know
Why it is said: ‘horse is gallant, pigeon is beautiful.’
And why nobody keeps a vulture in a cage.
What is absent in sweet clover that is present in red tulip.
Washed should be the eyes, another vision should be found.
Washed should be the words.
Word itself should be the wind; word itself should be the rain.
Umbrellas should be closed.
Under the rain, should every one go.
Under the rain, thought and memory should be taken.
With all people of the city, under the rain, one should go.
Friend, under the rain, should be met,
Love, under the rain, should be sought.
Under the rain one should sleep with women.
Under the rain one should play.
Under the rain one should write, talk, sow lotus.
Life is getting wet time after time.
Life is swimming in the pond of ‘Now.’
So i wanted to put a brief biography of this poet and painter here, which is from the web, along with some of his paintings:
Sohrab Sepehri, poet and painter was born in 1928 in Kashan Iran. After obtaining his high school diploma, he attended and obtained a Bachelor of Arts from Honar-haye Ziba (Fine Arts) Faculty of Tehran University. In the first twelve years after his graduation he worked in several government agencies while on the side pursuing his personal interest in poetry and painting. During these years he also travelled on numerous occasions to Europe, and Africa.
In 1964 he completely resigned from his governmental position and began focusing all his time and energy on poetry and painting. He moved and lived in USA for one year, and subsequently spent about two years living in Paris. During this time period he painted numerous paintings applying the same soft and gentle style, which can be found in his poems.
In 1979 he was diagnosed with cancer and for the last time he moved to England for treatment. A year later, in 1980, he passed away in Tehran and now he rests in his birthplace, Kashan.
