Saturday, July 19, 2008

Billy Collins


Farsi:Yashar Ahad Sarami

Foto: RosMayo

بیلی کالینز

دعای شامگاهی

تو نانی و چاقو
گیلاس بلوری و شرابی تو
شبنمی تو روی چمنزار سپیده ی صبح
چرخِ سوزانِ خورشید
روبند سفید نان پزی
و پرواز ناگهانیِ پرنده های مرداب

نه نگو، تو باد وزان باغ نیستی
زرد آلو های روی میز
یا قمار خانه
و البته تو حتی این هوای عطرِ کاجی هم که نه ، نیستی
اصلا امکان ندارد که تو این هوای کاج عطری باشی

حالا اگر بگویی که بله ماهی زیر ُپلم ، خب یک چیزی، ممکن است
یا کبوتری روی سر ژنرال
ولی مثلا مزرعه آفتابگردان در یک غروب باشی !!! نه دیگر ، نیستی .ه

اگر یک نگاه سریع به آینه بیندازی
دستت می اید که نه پوتین های آن گوشه هستی
و صد البته نه آن قایقی که آنجا در قایق خانه دارد خُرخُر می کند

شاید برایت جالب باشد که بدانی
یعنی در باره ی این چیزهای تجسمی دنیا که حرفش را می زنیم
خود من مثلا صدای چکه چکه های بارانم روی سقف

یک زمانی برای خودم ستاره ی دنباله دار هم بوده ام
روزنامه ی تا خورده یِ معلق توی کوچه
و سبد پر از بلوط روی میز آشپزخانه

ماهِ حوالیِ درخت ها هم هستم
فنجان آن زن پیر هم ، آفرین درست حدس زدی
حالا دلت شور نزند، نه نانم من و نه چاقو

هنوز که هنوز است تو هم چاقویی هم نان
تو اصلا همیشه نان و چاقو خواهی بود
بله، حتی آن گیلاس بلوری و شراب هم که اوهوم. ه


Friday, July 18, 2008

Kay Ryan,named Poet Laureate

کِی رایان ملک الشعرای آمریکایی ، شاعری که در کالیفرنیا زندگی می کند و مشهور و مشعور به شعرهای خیلی شخصی و خصوصی ست.ه


I wrote this—well, I'm sure that I was thinking that I had made a lot of very stupid decisions in my life and that I was now suffering the consequences of them having all piled up and come home. This was a very personal poem, I'm sure, when I wrote it, although I like to write personal poems in such a way that nobody has to know that.

"The chickens are circling and blotting out the day." Now that's a really funny thing to say. You know, somebody has written me a letter and told me: "I love your poem 'Home to Roost' but you should know we raise chickens, and you need to know chickens don't really fly."

Home to Roost

The chickens
are circling and
blotting out the
day. The sun is
bright, but the
chickens are in
the way. Yes,
the sky is dark
with chickens,
dense with them.
They turn and
then they turn
again. These
are the chickens
you let loose
one at a time
and small—
various breeds.
Now they have
come home
to roost—all
the same kind
at the same speed.

Carol and I were reading the paper on Sunday morning in bed, and Carol is reading the funnies, and she says in this stricken or awed or something tone, she says: "Kay, read this out loud" and she passes me the funnies. I start reading this cartoon and it is Boondocks and in it, the little brother, who wants to get his bit of the action now and is complaining is smacked down by his big brother, Huey, who uses my poem "Patience" in this cartoon. It was just astonishing. He says: "You know, a poet named Kay Ryan once said, 'Who would have guessed it possible that waiting is sustainable—a place with its own harvests. Or that in time's fullness the diamonds of patience couldn't be distinguished from the genuine in brilliance or hardness.' What do you think that means?" Huey asks Riley. Riley answers: "It means you're a nerd and poetry is stupid."

From The Poet's View: Intimate Profiles of Five Major American Poets. Copyright © 2008 by the Academy of American Poets.