Mosafer - Sohrab Sepehri

قسمتی از شعر سهراب سپهری به نام مسافر با صدای زنده یاد خسرو شکیبایی

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• سپهری
• به
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• مسافر
• با
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• یاد
• خسرو
• شکیبایی
• sher
• she'r
• sohrab
• sepehry
• sepehri
• khosro
• shakibaie
• shakibaye
• shakibayee
• mosafer
• manzoome
• deklame
• mehryar
• دکلمه
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• irani
• persian
• sabz

[333fs]

Thanks friend.Are you an iranian?

[mehryar10]

yes :)

[mehryar10]

lol

good luck

[333fs]

thats ok friend. Can any one else do translate? At least can you tell me the meaning in a summarised way?

[mehryar10]

i dnt know anyone who's capble of doing it ..

even in Farsi the meaning is tough to understand ! hopefully someone who can do it will see ur commentz soon :D

[333fs]

Can you please translate this for me.. I cant understand, but its beautiful

[mehryar10]

it's really really tough to translate :D i can't do it.. maybe someone else could do it !

[hossein582]

abadiyat,ba sohrab,ta abad,pabarjast.khoda ba mast.be daronetan chon sohrab gosh konid,seda ,sedaye khodaye bihamtast.

[zaraaus]

@333fs

Here is the rest:

"And I think

That this rhythmical melodious sorrow will be heard

Until eternity..."

[zaraaus]

@333fs Continuing on: "What strange valleys!? And the horse – do you remember? It was white And grazed the green silence of the lawn like a pure word And then the strange colorful villages by the road and then tunnels I am depressed I am badly depressed And nothing else Neither this fragrant minutes that grow silent on orange branch Nor the sincerity of this word that lies between the silences of two leaves of gillyflower No, nothing frees me from the silent onrush of the surroundings"

[zaraaus]

@333fs Continuing the poem: "The pilgrim Disembarked from the bus. “What a pure sky!” And the continuation of the street of nostalgia carried him away It was evening One could hear the sound of the intelligence of herbs The pilgrim had come And was sitting on an easy chair near the lawn: “I am depressed, I am badly depressed, All the way I was thinking about a single subject and the color of mountainsides robbed my sense the lines of the road was lost in the sadness of plains"

[zaraaus]

@333fs

Here is first part of the poem:

"About sunset amid the tired presence of objects an expecting eye watching the volume of time and on the table the hue and cry of several new fruits

Moved towards the vague side of death

And the perfume of the garden over the carpet of leisure

The wind bestowed to the smooth margin of life and the mind had picked up the illuminated side of the flower

Like a fan

And was fanning itself"

[zaraaus]

@333fs

I just saw your comments. Here is a rough translation taken from "sohrabsepehri" website; I am going to post it in several posts b/c it is long.

Hope you like it, the Sohrab's poems are so meaningful, need not to focus on word but the soul and the message of the poem is what he meant to say!

[NAZELIES]

@NAZELIES

And I think

That this rhythmical melodious sorrow will be heard

Until eternity.

Poem name : Pilgrim

1967 Babol, Spring

[NAZELIES]

@NAZELIES And the horse – do you remember? It was white And grazed the green silence of the lawn like a pure word And then the strange colorful villages by the road and then tunnels I am depressed I am badly depressed And nothing else – Neither this fragrant minutes that grow silent on orange branch Nor the sincerity of this word that lies between the silences of two leaves of gillyflower No, nothing frees me from the silent onrush of the surroundings

[NAZELIES]

@NAZELIES The pilgrim Disembarked from the bus. “What a pure sky!” And the continuation of the street of nostalgia carried him away It was evening One could hear the sound of the intelligence of herbs The pilgrim had come And was sitting on an easy chair near the lawn: “I am depressed, I am badly depressed, All the way I was thinking about a single subject and the color of mountainsides robbed my sense the lines of the road was lost in the sadness of plains What strange valleys!?

[NAZELIES]

@333fs

About sunset amid the tired presence of objects an expecting eye watching the volume of time and on the table the hue and cry of several new fruits

Moved towards the vague side of death

And the perfume of the garden over the carpet of leisure

The wind bestowed to the smooth margin of life and the mind had picked up the illuminated side of the flower

Like a fan

And was fanning itself