شعرِ انگور
The Grape Poem
سروده يی از نادر نادرپور،
Nader Naderpour
ارسالی: احمدشاه عبادی،
چه ميگوييد؟
کجا شهد است اين آبی که در هر دانهء شيرين انگور است؟
کجا شهد است؟
اين اشک است،
اشکِ باغبانِ پيرِ رنجور است،
که شبها راه پيموده،
همه شب تا سحر بيدار بوده،
تاکها را آب داده،
پشت را چو چفته های مو دوتا کرده،
دلِ هر دانه را از اشک چشمانِ نور بخشيده،
تنِ هر خوشه را با خون دل شاداب پرورده.
چه ميگوييد؟
کجا شهد است اين آبی که در هر دانهء شيرين انگوراست؟
کجا شهد است؟
اين خون است!
خونِ باغبانِ پيرِ رنجور است!
چنين آسان مگيريدش،
چنين آسان منوشيديش!
شما هم، ای خريدارانِ شعرِ من!
اگر در دانه های نازکِ لفظم،
و يا در خوشه های روشنِ شعرم،
شراب و شهد ميبينيد، غير از اشک و خونم نيست.
کجا شهد است؟
اين اشک است! اين خون است!
شرابش از کجا خوانديد؟
اين مستی، نه آن مستيست.
شما از خونِ من مستيد.
از خونی که مينوشيد،
از خونِ دلم مينوشيد،
از خونِ دلم مستيد.
مرا هر لفظ فرياديست که از دل ميکشم بيرون،
مرا هر شعر درياييست،
درياييست لبريز از شراب و خون.
کجا شهد است، اين اشکی که در هر دانهء لفظ است؟
کجا شهد است، اين خونی که در هر خوشهء شعر است؟
چنين آسان ميفشاريد بر هر دانه لبها را و بر هر خوشه دندان را!
مرا اين کاسهء خون است.
مرا اين ساغرِ اشک است.
چنين آسان مگيريدش،
چنين آسان منوشيدش!
Naderpour’s “Grape Poem”
Naderpour’s third collection of verse, called the Grape Poem, was published in March 1958 by Sokhan, whose editor Khanlari opined: “The poems appearing in this collection are some of very best poems in the modernist school.” The title poem became one of the most anthologized twentieth-century Persian poems. Composed in May 1956, “The Grape Poem”, first presents the juice of grapes as the blood and ears of gardener whose labor has produced and nurtured this delicious fruit. Then the speaker, presumably the poet himself, addresses “the patrons of my poetry” and asserts that what they may think is wine and nectar in “the tender grapes of my words or in the bright clusters of my poetry” is really the poet’s blood and tears.
The Grape Poem
What are you saying?
How can there be nectar in the juice
of every sweet grape?
Where is the nectar? These are tears,
tears of the old, suffering gardener
who walked nights,
stayed awake until dawn,
watered the vines,
bent his back like vines over trellises,
bestowed light on each grape with his tears,
and nurtured each cluster with his heart’s blood.
What are you saying?
Where is the nectar in the juice
of every sweet grape?
Where is the nectar? This is blood,
the blood of the old, suffering gardener.
Do not take it so lightly,
do not quaff it so cavalierly!
You too, o patrons of my poetry,
if you see wine and nectar
in the tender grapes of my words
or in the bright clusters of my verse,
it is no other than my own blood and tears.
Where is the nectar?
These are tears, this is blood.
How did you come to think it wine?
This is not that intoxication.
You are intoxicated with my blood,
with the blood which you imbibe,
with my heart’s blood you are intoxicated!
My every word is a scream squeezed from my heart.
My every poem is a sea,
a sea overflowing with the wine of the blood.
Where is the nectar in these tears,
which are in every poetic cluster?
Do not press your lips so easily
on every grape and your teeth
on every cluster !
This is a bowl of blood to me….
To me this is a vessel of tears….
Do not take it so lightly,
Do not quaff it so cavalierly !
Nader Naderpour
There are various translations of Naderpour poems. The above taken from “False Down”, is translated from Persian by Michael Craig Hillman, who is the leading American authority on Persian literature of post- World II period.
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