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Tuesday, March 23, 2010

Meditating a Movie

The House Is Black, the unique film made by Forough Farrokhzad: I intend to write in near future some sensed words about it. The English subtitles are very difficult to read, sometimes it's white text over white background: versets from the Bible and Koran, and also verses written by Forough Farrokhzad. I succeeded to copy most of them and I tried to translate some in Romanian: in the movie Forough Farrokhzad is reciting the verses in parallel with the flow of images, sometimes in sync, sometimes in counterpoint. Here is what I got:

The English version:

I said if I had wings of a dove
I would fly away and be at rest.
I would go far away and take refuge in the desert
I would hasten my escape
From the windy storm and tempest.
For I have seen misery
And wickedness on Earth
The Universe is pregnant with our sorrows
And has given birth to time.

How would I escape from your face?
Where would I go from your essence?
If I hang on to the wings
Of the morning breeze.
And reside in the deep of the sea,
Your hand will still weigh on me.
You have made me drunk with indecision.

How awesome are your deeds.
I speak of the bitterness of my soul.
From my silent screams all day long.

Remember that my life is wind
I have become the pelican of the desert.
Out of the ruins
And like a sparrow I am
Sitting alone on the roof.

I am poured out like water
My eyelid is the shadow of death
As those who have long dead.

Leave me, leave me,
For my days are but numbered.
Leave me before I set out
For the land of no return.
The land of infinite darkness.

O God, don’t entrust the life
Of your dove to the wild beast.
O God, remember that my life is wind
And you have given me a time of idleness
And around me a song of happiness.

The sound of the windmill and the brightness
Of the light have vanished
Lucky are those who are harvesting now
And their hands are picking sheaves of wheat

Let’s listen to the soul in the remote desert
One who sighs and stretches his hands out saying,
Alas, my wounds have numbed my spirit.

O, the time-forgotten one,
Dressing yourself in red and wearing golden ornaments
Anointing your eyes with coal
Remember you have made yourself beautiful in vain,
For a song in the remote desert
And your friends who have denigrated you

Alas, for the day is fading,
The evening shadows are stretching
Our being, like a cage full of birds,
Is filled with moans of captivity.
And none of us knows how long he will last

The harvest season passed,
The summer season will come to an end,
And we did not find deliverance.
Like doves we cry for justice…
And there is none.
We wait for light
And darkness reigns.

O, overrunning river driven by the force of love,
Flow to us, flow to us.

And my Romanian translation:

Mi-am zis ca de-as avea aripi de porumbel
As zbura departe, la loc de odihna,
As ajunge hat departe si mi-as lua de adapost pustia.
Mi-as grabi scaparea
Din calea vijeliior si furtunilor.
Pentru ca mizerie am vazut,
Mizerie si netrebnicie, pe Pamant.
Universul era fecundat de rautatile noastre
Si a nascut timpul, sa le induram.

Cum as putea sa scap de fata ta?
Cum as putea sa ma indepartez de esenta ta?
De m-as atarna de aripile zefirului de dimineata
Si mi-as gasi salas in adancurile marii
Mana ta inca m-ar cantari.
M-ai faurit astfel incat sa umblu beat, sa fiu imbatat de nehotarare.

Aminteste-ti ca viata imi este prada bataii vantului
Am devenit pelicanul desertului
Departe, dincolo de zidiri daramate.
Si ca o vrabie stau singuratec pe acoperis,
Sunt varsat precum apa ce o arunci,
Pleoapele mele sunt ca umbra mortii
Asemenea celor care au murit de mult.
Lasa-ma, caci zilele mele sunt numarate,
Lasa-ma, inainte sa o pornesc
Spre taramul de unde nu este intoarcere,
Taramul intunecimii nemarginite.

O, Dumnezeule, nu incredinta viata porumbelului tau fiarei salbatice
O Dumnezeule, aminteste-ti ca viata mea in bataia vantului este.
Tu mi-ai daruit vreme de zabava,
Si pus-ai imprejurul meu un cantec de fericire.
Dar sunetul morii si stralucirea luminii au disparut.
Fericiti aceia ce acum isi culeg roadele,
Ale caror maini impletesc snopi de grau.

Sa ascultam sufletul celui aflat in desertul de deaprte,
Cel ce suspina si-si ridica mainile zicand,
Vai mie, ranile mi-au amortit cugetul.

O, timp uitat de demult,
Imbracandu-te in rosu si cu podoabe de aur,
Miruind-ti ochii cu carbune
Adu-ti aminte ca ti-ai ingrijit frumusetea zadarnic
Pentru un cantec doar, din desertul de departe
Si pentru prietenii ce s-au lepadat de tine.

Vai mie, caci ziua sw stinge,
Si umbrele inserarii isi arata taria.
Iar fiinta noastra, precum ccolivia plina d epasari,
umpluta este de gemete de robie
Si nimeni dintre noi nu stie cat va mai dura,
Antimpul culesului roadelor a trecut,
Anotimpul verii va ajunge si el la capat
Iar noi nu vom gasi izbavire
Ne cerem precum porumbeii dreptate
Dar nu exista.
Asteptam lumina,'Iar intunericul domneste.

O, fluviu preaplin, impins de forta iubirii,
Revarsa-te spre noi.

(Forough Farrokhzād)

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