November 4, 2020
Dear Friends of the Persian Garden,
As the garden’s autumn glory begins to fade and preparations for winter begin, we are pleased to share a timely poem submitted by Suzy Elghanayan, the talented California-based singer known as Suzy K.
Suzy reflects on The Leafless Garden by Mehdi Akhavan Sales (1928-1990) and the hidden potential of a garden in winter:
Dear Friends of the Persian Garden,
As the garden’s autumn glory begins to fade and preparations for winter begin, we are pleased to share a timely poem submitted by Suzy Elghanayan, the talented California-based singer known as Suzy K.
Suzy reflects on The Leafless Garden by Mehdi Akhavan Sales (1928-1990) and the hidden potential of a garden in winter:
The poem’s words express a sentiment many of us feel in today’s world as the path to harmony and blissful connection is disrupted by divisiveness and upheaval. As the seemingly lifeless earth produces new growth that will be stronger and more verdant than before, so too the warmth of the sun will awaken the soil to the garden's new destiny. The seed is sown, the dark, bitter, cold days of the season give way to its eventual birth where the glorious beauty of the orchard will rise above and set the new stage of beauty, love, connection. Then the scent of unity will prevail over the earth, after the autumn and winter, into its true springtime. In today’s darkness, I see light. I see what we’re going through and what I must become, what I must do, what I must search for, and I see what tomorrow’s diverse and global garden will be. It will be a place I will finally call home and plant another seed. |
The Leafless Garden
Mehdi Akhavan Sales (1928-1990)
The cloud with its cold damp skin
Has embraced the sky tightly;
The leafless orchard
Is alone day and night
With his pure and sad silence.
Its lyre is the rain and his song, the wind,
Its garment is of nudity cloak,
And if another garment it must wear,
Let its warf and woof be woven by golden ray.
They can grow or not grow, wherever they want or don’t;
There is neither a gardener nor a passerby.
The depressed orchard
Expects no spring.
If his eye sheds no warm luster
And on his face no leaf of smile grows,
Who says the leafless orchard is not beautiful?
It relates the tale of fruits, once reaching to heavens, now lying in the cold coffin of earth.
The leafless orchard,
Laughs in tearful blood,
Eternal, mounted on his wild yellow stallion,
Roams autumn, the king of seasons.
Mehdi Akhavan Sales (1928-1990)
The cloud with its cold damp skin
Has embraced the sky tightly;
The leafless orchard
Is alone day and night
With his pure and sad silence.
Its lyre is the rain and his song, the wind,
Its garment is of nudity cloak,
And if another garment it must wear,
Let its warf and woof be woven by golden ray.
They can grow or not grow, wherever they want or don’t;
There is neither a gardener nor a passerby.
The depressed orchard
Expects no spring.
If his eye sheds no warm luster
And on his face no leaf of smile grows,
Who says the leafless orchard is not beautiful?
It relates the tale of fruits, once reaching to heavens, now lying in the cold coffin of earth.
The leafless orchard,
Laughs in tearful blood,
Eternal, mounted on his wild yellow stallion,
Roams autumn, the king of seasons.
آسمانش را گرفته تنگ در آغوش
ابر با آن پوستینش سرد نمناکش
باغ بی برگی
روز و شب تنهاست
با سکوت پاک غمناکش
ساز او باران سرودش باد
جامه اش شولای عریانی ست
ور جز اینش جامه ای باید
بافته بس شعله ی زر تار پودش باد
گو بروید یا نروید هرچه در هرجا که خواهد یا نمی خواهد
باغبان و رهگذاری نیست
باغ نومیدان
چشم در راه بهاری نیست
گر زچشمش پرتو گرمی نمی تابد
ور به رویش برگ لبخندی نمی روید
باغ بی برگی که می گوید زیبا نیست؟
داستان از میوه های سر به گردون سای اینک خفته در تابوت پست خاک می گوید
باغ بی برگی
خنده اش خونی ست اشک آمیز
جاودان بر اسب یال افشان زردش می چمد در آن
پادشاه فصل ها پاییز
ابر با آن پوستینش سرد نمناکش
باغ بی برگی
روز و شب تنهاست
با سکوت پاک غمناکش
ساز او باران سرودش باد
جامه اش شولای عریانی ست
ور جز اینش جامه ای باید
بافته بس شعله ی زر تار پودش باد
گو بروید یا نروید هرچه در هرجا که خواهد یا نمی خواهد
باغبان و رهگذاری نیست
باغ نومیدان
چشم در راه بهاری نیست
گر زچشمش پرتو گرمی نمی تابد
ور به رویش برگ لبخندی نمی روید
باغ بی برگی که می گوید زیبا نیست؟
داستان از میوه های سر به گردون سای اینک خفته در تابوت پست خاک می گوید
باغ بی برگی
خنده اش خونی ست اشک آمیز
جاودان بر اسب یال افشان زردش می چمد در آن
پادشاه فصل ها پاییز