Alas, the human
had adapted to the pain of his centuries;
We did not know this
and shoulder to shoulder
in the breath-filled streets of battle
Gods had all vanished
and there was just the name of the human
the device of the charm that drove the most beautiful heroes
into baring their own blood.
Alas, the human had adapted to the pain of his centuries!
With a hysteric shiver
like a dove calling its mate
we screamed the name of the human
the same as a sunflower
with the mouth of
But the human, alas
to the pain of his centuries.
With feet in chain and body bare
he looked down on our efforts
like a wiseman
on a band of madmen
who foolishly cheer
in their naked feast.
In a battle which its definite end shall have had such an uncertain start,
we who had no shields other than the bareness of our souls
fought hand to hand with the enemy
whose arrows of fury
would pierce our scream of pain
like an infected abscess.
Oh well, the call of hell too
as long as there is deceit at work
does not sound
less unpleasant than
the call of heavens.
We used to think that a colorful aurora
_as we fall down to the pavement of the night_
with a kiss on our wishful blood
And the companions, one by one, fell down
And their names vanished from memories
_except for on the corner of a notebook _
For the human, alas
had adapted to the pain of his centuries.
In the murk where god and demon have the same display
I will not repeat that absurd scream anymore.
All creeds are but an excuse for a fight
over the throne of authority,
and the human
alas, had adapted to the pain of his centuries.
Oh my companion, your glance is a fresh aurora
more brilliant than the aurora in my dreams,
An aurora that
dried in my blood
and waned in the murk of reality
with the elegy of my companions.
The earth of the god is flat
is dull and drab
for the promised hell
is already here.
Let our first kisses be
the memorial of those kisses
that our companions
with the crimson lips of their wounds
put on the thankless earth.
Your love consoles me;
and also alarms me
for this herd was not worth dying for
without having known you.
Photo by Vadim Stein
"Nocturne - 6" (Original title: «شبانه - 6»)
By Ahmad Shamlou
Translated by Sina Ghasemi
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