قایقی خواهم ساخت از سپهری

I shall build a boat
I shall cast it in the water
I shall sail away from this strange earth
Where no one awaken the heroes in the wood of love

A boat empty of net
And longing heart for pearls
I shall continue sailing
Neither I shall loose my heart for the blues
Nor for the mermaids who emerge from the water
To spread their charm from their locks
On the shining solitude of fishermen

I shall continue sailing
I shall continue singing
“One should sail away, sail away.”
The man in that town had no myth
The woman in that town was not as brimful as a cluster of grapes

No hall mirror repeated joys
Not even puddles reflected a torch
One should sail away, sail away
Night has sung its song
Now it is the turn of windows

I shall continue sailing
I shall continue singing

Beyond the seas there is a town
In which windows open to manifestation
There rooftops quarter pigeons that looks at the jets of human intelligence
In the hand of each 10-year-old child a branch of knowledge lies
The townsfolk took at hedges
As if they look at a flame, a tender dream
Earth hears the music of your feeling
And the fluttering sound of mythological birds are heard in the wind

Beyond the seas there is a town
Where the sun is as wide as the eyes of early-risers
Poets inherit water, wisdom and light

Beyond the seas there is a town!
One must build a boat...

شعری از ویلیام بلیک ( William Blake )

Holy Thursday (Experience)

Is this a holy thing to see.
In a rich and fruitful land.
Babes reduced to misery.
Fed with cold and usurous hand?

Is that trembling cry a song?
Can it be a song of joy?
And so many children poor?
It is a land of poverty!

And their sun does never shine.
And their fields are bleak & bare.
And their ways are fill'd with thorns
It is eternal winter there.

For where-e'er the sun does shine.
And where-e'er the rain does fall:
Babe can never hunger there,
Nor poverty the mind appall.

پنجشنبه مقدس

آیا این است چیزی مقدس برای دیدن؟

در سر زمینی که غنی و ثروتمند است

اماکودکانش آواره و سر گردانند

آنها را غذا می دهند دستان سرد ربا خواری

***

ایا یک نوا را فریاد می زنند دل رعشه ها ؟

آیا این نوا نوای شادی است؟

چه بسیاراند کودکان فقیر

این جا سر زمین فقر و تباهی است

***

خورشیدشان نمی درخشد هیچگاه

متروک و عریان است دشتهاشان

پوشیده از خار است راه هاشان

اینجا زمستان همیشگی وابدی است

***

جایی که خورشید همیشه تابنده است

جایی که باران رحمت بر مردمانش می بارد

کودکانش هرگز گرسنه نخواهند ماند

و ذهن ها هرگز از فقر در هراس و تشویش نخواهد بود