Kay-Khosrow at the Seashore
By Majid Naficy
I see that the sea calls me to serenity
But everything has turned into a storm within me.
On this sunny day, I see a blizzard
And the faded footprints of Kay-Khosrow
When in that crow-calling Friday evening
Before the beginning of his graduation party
He was creeping on the carpet alone
In the backyard of Partow Kindergarten
And shrilling from the pain of separation
Until his worriers Rostam and Giv appeared.
Then Mr. Pazoki took out his violin from its black box
And Mrs. Pazoki put a paper crown on his head
And sent him onto the stage
In front of a noisy audience
That appeared like a cloudy sky
To his nearsighted eyes.
Now how can I say to that child
That he sealed his fate that night
When he walked in the footprints of Kay-Khosrow?
In waves, I see my entangled shadow
And in clouds, my burnt-off body.
I look at the footprint of this seagull on the sand
Who each time, after walking a few steps,
Stops and turns back
And looks at the empty place of his mate.
Am I still capable of interpreting the world?
Oh, you living king!
I swear by your crystal ball
Tell me, what is the meaning of all this?
Why did I sit at Kay-Khosrow’s throne that night
And put that paper crown on my head?
Why did I take Rostam into my heart
And ask Giv for help?
I have lost the power of sight
And when I look at things
I cannot see save for
A lost shape of myself. *
January 1, 1996
*- According to Ferdowsi in The Shahnameh, the mythological living king Kay-Khosrow, who held the Jam’s crystal ball, after killing his maternal grandfather Afrasiab in revenge for the murder of his father Siavash, lost interest in life and gave his kingdom to Lohrasb. Then he washed himself in a spring and disappeared in the dark. As he had predicted, his remaining entourage died in a blizzard a day later. The night that I played Kay-Khosrow in kindergarten, my brother Hamid was among the audience. He took my picture and brought me back home.
کیخسرو در کنار دریا
مجید نفیسی
میبینم که دریا مرا به آرامش میخوانَد
اما در من هر چیز به شکل توفان درآمده است.
در این روز آفتابی، کولاک برف را میبینم
و جاپاهای محو شدهی کیخسرو را
هنگامی که در کلاغخوانِ آن عصر جمعه
پیش از آغاز جشن پایان سال
تکوتنها بر زمین میخزید
و در حیاط فرششدهی کودکستان پرتو
از سوزِ جدایی ضجه میکشید
تا آنکه رستم و گیو ظاهر شدند
و آقای پازوکی ویلن را از جعبهی سیاهش درآورد
و خانم پازوکی بر سر او تاجی کاغذی گذاشت
و او را به صحنه فرستاد
و به هیاهوی جمعیت سپرد
که در برابر چشمان نزدیکبینش
چون آسمانی ابری مینمود.
اکنون به آن کودک چگونه بگویم
که او آن شب سرنوشت خود را چنین رقم زد
و پا در جاپاهای کیخسرو نهاد؟
در موج، سایهی درهم خود را میبینم
و در ابر، جسم دودشدهام را.
به نقش پای این مرغ دریایی بر شن نگاه میکنم
که پس از هر چند قدم که برمیدارد
سربرم گرداند و به جای خالی جفت خود مینگرد.
آیا در من توان تفسیر جهان به جا مانده است؟
آه ای شاه زنده!
ترا به جامِ جَمات سوگند
به من بگو که معنای این همه چیست؟
چرا آن شب بر تخت کیخسرو نشستم
و آن تاج کاغذی را بر سر نهادم؟
چرا به رستم دل بستم
و از گیو یاری جستم؟
در من توانِ دیدن از میان رفته است
و بر هرچه مینگرم
جز شکل گمشدهای از خود نمیبینم.*
اول ژانویه هزارونهصدونودوشش
* به گفتهی فردوسی در شاهنامه، کیخسرو دارندهی جام جم پس از کشتن پدربزرگ مادریاش، افراسیاب، و کامیابی در خونخواهی پدرش سیاوش، از جهان سیر شده، پادشاهی را به لهراسب وامیگذارد. او پس از تن شستن در چشمهای، در تاریکی ناپدید میشود. همان طور که پیشبینی کرده، فردای آن روز همراهان او در کولاک برفی که آن محل را فرامیگیرد از میان میروند. در شبی که من نقش کیخسرو را در کودکستان بازی میکردم، برادرم حمید در میان تماشاگران بود. او عکس مرا گرفت و به خانهام برگرداند.
Norma:
Dear Majid,
On Thursday and yesterday I was able to attend at least part of the festivities at northwestern in honor of Hamid's retirement. I live in Chicago. You may or may not remember that, since I believe the reason I first contacted you was about a Middle East poetry event at the Chicago-based Poetry Foundation, for which you generously provided some poems that were read for you by Hamid.
In any case, I wanted to let you know that your beautiful memory letter was read at the end of the day, along with the most moving contributions by family.
It was very intimate to hear how Hamid's older brother experiences had so profoundly shaped you, as a man and a poet. Thank you for sharing them. The audience was very touched. I piped up and mentioned that the poem you had posted that morning (yesterday) also mentioned a memory with Hamid. I was happy to be able to share that. It brought you a little closer into the room.
with appreciation and many thanks,
Norma
Mina:
هزاران درود بر شما و اشعار زیباتون…شعری که برای قربانیان مدرسه Uvalde سرودید بسیار تاثیر گذار بود