“In This Dead End” by Ahmad Shamloo

They come sniffing at your mouth
Lest the words ‘I love you’ lurk within
They come to search your heart
These are strange times, my darling
As for love,
They whip it bloody
All along the city ramparts
We bury Love in the back room of the house
In this gnarled and frozen dead end
They feed the flames
With the kindling of song and poetry
Do not risk a thought
These are strange times we live in, my darling
Whoever pounds on the door at night
Has come to murder light
We bury Light in the back room of the house
And now here the butchers come,
Stationed at every crossroad
They bring cutting boards and bloody cleavers
These are strange times we live in, my darling
They cut corners from smiling lips
Cut songs from the throat
We bury Joy in the back room of the house
The canaries are lain on the coals
Burning with lilies and jasmine
These are strange times we live in, my darling
Iblis triumphant,
Blind drunk at the banquet of our grief
We bury God in the back room of the house

“In This Dead End” by Ahmad Shamloo
Translation of a translation by Yann Rousselot

***

“En cette impasse” – Ahmad Shamloo

On vient sentir ta bouche
Que tu n’aies dit je t’aime
On vient sentir ton coeur
Quelle étrange époque vivons-nous, ma toute gracieuse
Quant à l’amour,
On lui donne le fouet
Le long des remparts sentinelles
L’amour, on l’enfouit au fond d’une arrière-cour
En cette impasse torve, torturée par le froid
Brille l’amour
Par la grâce nourricière des chants et des poèmes
Ne te risque pas à penser, ma toute gracieuse
Quelle étrange époque vivons-nous
Celui qui, nuitamment, martèle à notre porte
Est venu en meurtrier de la lampe
La lumière, on l’enfouit au fond d’une arrière-cour
Et voici que viennent les bouchers
Veillant à tout passage
Ils apportent la planche et les hachoirs en sang
Quelle étrange époque vivons-nous, ma toute gracieuse
Et ils équarrissent le sourire sur les lèvres
Et les chants sur la bouche
La joie, on l’enfouit au fond d’une arrière-cour
Les canaris sont couchés sur la braise,
brûlante de jasmin et de lys
Quelle étrange époque vivons-nous, ma toute gracieuse
Iblis est triomphant,
Ivre, attablé au banquet de nos deuils
Dieu, on l’enfouit au fond d’une arrière-cour.

Traduit pour Libération par Reza Afchar Naderi. Petits Chants de l’exil, 1980.

/

On renifle ta bouche
Pour savoir si tu as dit « je t’aime »
On renifle ton cœur
Drôle de temps, ami-e
Et à côté du garde-fou
On fouette
L’amour
Il faut cacher l’amour dans l’arrière-chambre de la maison
Dans cette impasse tortueuse du froid
Pour alimenter le feu
On brûle des chants et poésies
Ne te risque pas à penser
Drôle de temps, ami-e
Celui qui au crépuscule cogne à la porte
Est venu pour assassiner la lampe
Il faut cacher la lumière dans l’arrière-chambre de la maison
Voici que les bouchers
Se postent aux carrefours
Billots et haches ensanglantés à la main
Drôle de temps, ami-e
Et on mutile le sourire sur les lèvres
Et la chanson dans la gorge
Il faut cacher l’enthousiasme dans l’arrière-chambre de la maison
On fait griller les canaries
Sur un feu de lys et de jasmin
Drôle de temps, ami-e
Le diable ivre de victoire
Fait ripaille à notre banquet de deuil
Il faut cacher Dieu dans l’arrière-chambre de la maison

Traduit par Marie Ladier-Fouladi, à partir de celle de Chahrâchoub Amirchâhi et Alain Lance, Iran Poésie & autres rubriques, Paris, Maspero, 1980.

***

دهانت را می بویند مبادا گفته باشی دوستت دارم

دلت را می پویند مبادا شعله ای در آن نهان باشد

روزگار غریبی است نازنین

و عشق را کنار تیرک راهوند تازیانه می زنند

عشق را در پستوی خانه نهان باید کرد

شوق را در پستوی خانه نهان باید کرد

روزگار غریبی است نازنین

و در این بن بست کج و پیچ سرما

آتش را به سوخت بار سرود و شعر فروزان می دارند

به اندیشیدن خطر مکن

روزگار غریبی است نازنین

آنکه بر در می کوبد شباهنگام

به کشتن چراغ آمده است

نور را در پستوی خانه نهان باید کرد

دهانت را می بویند مبادا گفته باشی دوستت دارم

دلت را می پویند مبادا شعله ای در آن نهان باشد

روزگار غریبی است نازنین

نور را در پستوی خانه نهان باید کرد

عشق را در پستوی خانه نهان باید کرد

آنک قصابانند بر گذرگاهان مستقر با کُنده و ساطوری خون آلود

و تبسم را بر لبها جراحی می کنند

و ترانه را بر دهان

کباب قناری بر آتش سوسن و یاس

شوق را در پستوی خانه نهان باید کرد

ابلیس پیروز مست سور عزای ما را بر سفره نشسته است

خدای را در پستوی خانه نهان باید کرد

خدای را در پستوی خانه نهان باید کرد

                                               احمد شاملو

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30/04/2017: Le Bordel de la Poésie – The Blue Angel

Le Bordel de la Poésie “Blue Angel” event was a great success, with stunning performances by poets, pianists, painters, and literary prostitutes in a luxury Parisian duplex. Below you can enjoy a selection of photos but, if you’re curious, be sure to check out the full album, signed Romain Chocart.

Four poems published in At Large Magazine

At Large

Big thanks to Chris Campanioni and Malik Ameer Crumpler for making this a reality, and of course thank you Florida Man, the gift that keeps on giving.

Click through to read about Florida Man and Electrovulva.

At Large Magazine is dedicated to creating “collectable content through contemporary visual dialogue along with commentary on art, travel, fashion, and men’s lifestyle interests — and to have fun doing it.”

Three poems published in The Opiate

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If like me you are fascinated and intrigued by the super-heroic antics of Florida Man, two of my latest poems on the theme are online at The Opiate, alongside some stellar writing by Malik Crumpler and Samuél Lopez-Barrantes. Check it out and follow the magazine on Facebook and Twitter if you want some meaty, narcotic writing in your feeds.

FLORIDA MAN SAYS HE HAD NO IDEA BEATING AN ALLIGATOR TO DEATH WAS ILLEGAL

FLORIDA MAN IGNORES WARNING AND IS STRUCK AND KILLED BY TRAIN

The third poem, Hug Drugs, will be featured in the volume 9 Spring print issue, which you can pick up or order online on The Opiate’s website.

Runaway Poets spoken word series, ep. 8: Yann Rousselot (2 poems)

Wonderful production by Steve Nahaj, who partied with us on Nuit Blanche to capture these wicked shots of Paris by Night. “The Museum of Miniatures” is featured in my collection Dawn of the Algorithm (check the side-bar!), and the second poem will be included in a chapbook I am currently working on, 100% about Florida Man’s and Florida Woman’s adventures in Florida, in collaboration with fellow poet Cecilia Llompart.

Check out the Runaway Poets series for some quality spoken word and a glimpse into the lives of writers across the world.

Two poems published in issue 10 of Those That This

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Two of my more dark and distressing poems, Nightlogic and S.E.T.I., are online in issue 10 of Those That This, an excellent underground literary magazine curated by fellow poet and spoken-word artist Malik Crumpler.

Malik has been curating fantastic poetry, music, and visual media for a number of years, and the fruits of his work are all free to browse, so be do yourself a favour and check it out.

 

Postcard Poem Published by The Field Office Agency

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My short poem Vertigo didn’t make the cut for the 2016 Postcard Prize in poetry, but you can check out selected works on the Field Office Agency’s Flicker account. A beautifully diverse range of poetry, all short and otherworldly. Be sure the check out the winner and finalists here.