The Poetic side of Abbas Kiarostami
Just like the cinema, his poetry gives a similar touch. it goes deeper in the soul of everything around us.
Abbas Kiarostami is a well-known Irani/Persian movie director, screenplay & scriptwriter and been known for his soft realism cinema of Persian culture and people. He is been known for his entirely different approach of composition and frame and dealing with the story. A certain camera-angle, portrait-like images, developing a whole movie in a car and long shots of the hills are one of his cinematic trademarks following the themes of life, death, culture, art, and existence. There is huge naturalism in his art that portrays apathy, guilt, anger, pride, or shame. Watching Abbas Kiarostami cinema is always a visual treat as it is much closer to your naked eyes and the cinema shows the meta about everything in the picture very simplistically. The observation of his cinema frees you to dig deeper into the state of mind of human-like badi, a thief in close-up or purdah-clad woman in ten. Also, he invented the art of minimalism in his cinema. The lesser resourced & fetishes in the production, non-professional actors are been deployed in his projects. He utilized lesser cameras to capture the scene, a constant camera angle which help in less editing. it is always raw-felt and beautifully natural.
The observation of his cinema frees you to dig deeper in the state of mind of human like badi, thief in close-up or purdah-clad woman in ten.
Just like cinema, his poetry gives the similar touch. it goes deeper in the soul of everything around us. His only book of poetry The Wolf laying in the Wait which is originally written in Persian with translation in English is all about minimalist poetry with great story-telling within themselves.
I have taken a few poems from the book which I find delightful to read and feel. Also, It should be shown to the world who are not much aware of this side of Abbas
Kiarostami as well.
In the introduction to Kiarostami’s collection A Wolf Lying in Wait, co-translator Michael Beard writes, “There are people among us — bird watchers, photographers, naturalists — who are at home in the nonhuman world, who can tune in to the rhythms where nature follows its own rules. Out walking with them you may become aware gradually that they are noticing a totally different array of sights — spotting where the birds are perched, determining which wildflowers are out and when. It is no surprise that Abbas Kiarostami is such a person.”
Here are those few poems:
***
A red dotted line on the white snow
wounded game
limping away.
***
A bird
sings in the middle of the night;
unfamiliar
even to the birds.
***
A scarecrow
hatless and coatless
in a cold winter night.
***
The glow of the harvest moon
upon the window
made the glass tremble.
***
A column of dust
escorts
an aspen leaf
to Seventh Heaven.
***
I walk barefoot
on burning sand.
I burn all over
in the stares of passers-by.
***
My shadow accompies me
now in front
now by my side
now following.
what a relief
are these cloudy days!
***
Today’s opportunity was lost
just like yesterday’s
what remains is
a record of the days.
***
In the wasteland of my solitude
single trees thrust up
by the thousand.
***
In your absence
I debate with myself.
We come to agreement
on everything
so easily.
***
In your absence
I converse with you,
when you are there
I converse with myself;
***
I lost
something I had found;
I found something
that had been lost.
***
My shirt is a flag of freedom
flurring on the clothesline;
light and liberated
from the body’s bondage.
***
In broad daylight
no-one recognizes
the glow-worm.
***
it is hard to believe
the reality of snow
in the height of summer.
***
Out of a thousand worms
only one glows
in the dark.
***
Who decided
that green mulberry leaves
would be food
for silk worms?
***
The colour green
turned yellow;
the weather
turned cold;
my thoughts
turned to death.
***
The labour union
at last
failed to recognize
the spider’s weaving labour.
***
How
can I sleep in peace
when Time does not stop for a second
even in sleep?
***
A boat
with no sail
a sea
with no wind
a sky
with no moon.
***
In the bird’s eyes
west is
where the sun sets
and east is
where the sun rises;
that’s it.
***
You won’t believe it but
I quench my thirst
by drinking from a mirage.
***
The sky
is mine;
the earth too;
that’s how rich I am.
***
When I returned to my birthplace
the quince tree
has stopped bearing fruit
and mulberries –
now you had to pay for them.
***
The full moon
reflected in water,
the water
contained in the bowl,
and the thirsty man
deep in sleep.
***
In the silence of the night
the lullaby of termites
robs me of sleep.
***
with ash
i make an idol
and I burn it once again
in fire.
***
You won’t believe this, but
I have suffered loss
from profit
and I have profited
from loss.
***
Half of me
is yours
the other half
is mine.
***
One side of the window
faces me,
the other side
faces the passers-by.
***
I am thinking how to express
something inexpressible;
how boring to listen
to what you already know.
***
I am afraid of heights;
I have fallen from a high place.
I am afraid of fire;
I have been burned many times.
I am afraid of separation;
often have I been offended.
I am not afraid of death;
I have never died before,
not even once.
***
I divine
the depth of a mirage
from the amount of my thirst.
***
This day of mine
was lost
like all the other days,
half of it thinking of yesterday,
half of it thinking of tomorrow.
***
Beyond good and evil,
the sky
is blue.
***
This road
has been abandoned
for many years;
though the wind flowers
do not seem to know.
***
In the dictionary of my life
the defination of love
keeps changing.
***
I recorded a masterpiece
in my diary
in the middle of the night.
when morning came
it was no more than gibberish.
***
Bury my heart
separately
It is fragile.
***
I fear that
Shirin’s lamentations
might be drowned out
by the din
of Farhad carving the mountain.
***
The compilation is based upon my personal choices and I hold no rights over the poems.