"همه جا" از حافظ / "همه جا" توسط لیپستاد


Hafiz                                              ­           Lipstadt
(1320 ~ 1389)                                            (20th ~ 21st century)
——————                                           ———————­——

Running                                                    Si­tting
Through the streets                                 On the sidewalk curb
Screaming,                                                Ob­serving,

Throwing rocks through windows,     Rocks falling all around,
Using my own head to ring                  Striking my head, ringing in
Great bells,                                               Great waves of thought,

Pulling out my hair,                               My hair stands straight up,
Tearing off my clothes,                          My clothes’ fibers come alive,

Tying everything I own                        All possessions, the poems, yet
To a stick,                                                Unwritten, less valuable than,
And setting in on                                  The air that feeds the flames of
Fire.                                                         Their burning.

What else can Hafiz do tonight        What else can Lipstadt do tonight
To celebrate the madness,                  But acknowledge the truthfulness,
The joy,                                                 The madness,

Of seeing God                                      In~Exhaling God in each breath
Everywhere!                                         Everywhere!

Life is this tiny space
between
infinities

A finger‘s width full of
love and despair and
the desire to be
free

The truth is this,
Every monster
You have met
Or will ever meet,
Was once a human being
With a soul
That was as soft
And light
As silk.

Someone stole
That silk from their soul
And turned them
Into this.

So when you see
A monster next,
Always remember this,
Do not fear
The thing before you.
Fear the thing that
Created it instead.

Draw me the stars
And I'll write us to the moon
Draw me some tears
I might write you some blues
Colour the roses
From which I write about
Our dreams can be remembered
With pictures and a plot
I'll write what you couldn't
If you draw what I can not