لحظه گمشده:the last moment

Poem name : THE LOST MOMENT The swamp of my room was murky
And I could hear the murmur of my blood in my veins,
My life was passing in a deep limbo,
This darkness lighted the sketch of my existence.

The door opened
And she blew into the room with her lantern,
She was an abandoned beauty
And I was expecting her arrival.
She was the formless dream of my life,

A perfume in my eye murmured,
And my veins stopped throbbing.
Every string that pointed at me
Burnt in the lantern’s flame:
Time was not passing in me,
I was naked and briny.

She hung lantern in the air,
She was seeking me in the light,
She crossed every spot in my room
But she couldn’t find me,
A breeze drank the flame of the lantern.

A wind was blowing
And I was placed in a sketch
And I appeared in the pitch darkness of my room.
For whom was I appearing?
She was no more there.
Did she mix with the dark spirit of the room?
I felt a warm perfume moving in my veins.
I felt she was watching me with her lost existence,
And how vainly I was searching the place?
She had been lost in an instant.

My Last Duchess by Robert Browning

My Last Duchess by Robert Browning

Ferrara
That's my last Duchess painted on the wall,
Looking as if she were alive. I call
That piece a wonder, now: Fra Pandolf's hands
Worked busily a day, and there she stands.
Will't please you sit and look at her? I said
"Fra Pandolf" by design, for never read
Strangers like you that pictured countenance,
The depth and passion of its earnest glance,
But to myself they turned (since none puts by
The curtain I have drawn for you, but I)
And seemed as they would ask me, if they durst,
How such a glance came there; so, not the first
Are you to turn and ask thus. Sir, 'twas not
Her husband's presence only, called that spot
Of joy into the Duchess' cheek: perhaps
Fra Pandolf chanced to say "Her mantle laps

ساعتها:clocks

این ترانه بسیار زیبا به اسم ساعتها که در یکی از نشریات چاپ شده بود، تاکنون برنده جوایز بین المللی متعددی شده است. بخوانید و از آن لذت ببرید. حفظ کردن آن هم برای علاقه مندان به شعر و شاعری خالی از لطف نیست، به خصوص اینکه باعث تقویت زبان در بخش شعر می شود تا در آینده شعرها را راحت تر متوجه شوید.

چراغها خاموش می شود و من از دست می روم آن امواجی که می خواستم برخلافشان شنا کنم عاقبت مرا به زانو در آوردند آه، تمنا می کنم، التماس می کنم و چنین می خوانم: از سمت ناگفته ها بیا و سیب روی سرم را، و این درد مبهم مرا هدف بگیر ببرها در انتظارند تا رام شوند و چنین می خوانند: تویی که، تویی که ... آشفتگی تمامی ندارد: دیوارهایی که راه را می بندند و ساعت هایی که یکسره در گردشند می خواهم برگردم و تو را به خانه ببرم نمی شد باز ایستاد و تو اکنون می دانی، و من چنین می خوانم: ای فرصت های از دست رفته! بار دیگر بر دریای من بتابید من آیا خود، دردم یا که درمانم؟ و چنین می خوانم: تویی که، تویی که ... و نه هیچکس دیگر، و نه هیچکس دیگر تویی که، تویی که خانه‌ای، همان خانه‌ای که می خواستم بدان برگردم http://iranianenglish.blogspot.com/

Lights go out and I can't be saved Tides that I tried to swim against Have brought me down upon my knees Oh, I beg, I beg and plead, singing Come out of things unsaid Shoot an apple off my head And a trouble that can't be named Tigers waiting to be tamed, singing You are, You are Confusion never stops Closing walls and ticking clocks Gonna come back and take you home I could not stop but you now know, singing Come out upon my seas, Cursed missed opportunities Am I a part of the cure Or am I part of the disease, singing You are, you are And nothing else compares And nothing else compares You are, you are Home, home where I wanted to go

بـنده عشقـم و از هر دو جهان آزادم (حافظ)

Openly I admit, with much joy and such glee;
Enslaved to your love, from both worlds I am free.
As a bird of Paradise, to parting I did agree
Fell in the trap of life and worldly tragedy.
I was an angel, I resided in the heavens;
Renovation of the world - the mission given to me.
The nymphs of paradise, the cool ponds and the tree
In the hope of union, swiftly left my memory.
On the tablet of my heart, inscribed from a to z
It is all about you, I can’t see other than thee.
No soothsayer foretold of my exit or entry
O Lord, this journey, why did you for me decree?
I am but a slave of the Tavern of Love
Each moment, a new pain becomes my new remedy.
If my bleeding heart pours out of my tearful eyes
It’s just, I deserve; why to others I make my plea?
Wipe away Hafiz’s tears with your hands so he can see
Or else, this flood, brings all of us to our knee

How do I love thee : شعر عاشقانه الیزابت براونینگ به همسرش

Elizabeth Barrett Browning (1806-1861)

        from Sonnets from the Portuguese

                              XLIII

    How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
    I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
    My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
    For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
    I love thee to the level of everyday's
    Most quiet need, by sun and candlelight.
    I love thee freely, as men might strive for Right;
    I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.
    I love thee with the passion put to use
    In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.
    I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
    With my lost saints,–I love thee with the breath,
    Smiles, tears, of all my life!–and, if God choose,
    I shall but love thee better after death.

تایتانیک.

Titanic

My Heart will go on

Every night in my dreams

هر شب در رویاهام

I see you, I feel you,

من تورو میبینم من تورو احساس میکنم

That is how I know you go on

میدونم به همین صورت ادامه پیدا

 خواهد کرد

Far across the distance and space

between us

فاصله ها و فضاهای بین مارو

You have come to show you go on

اومدی نشون بدی که ادامه پیدا

 خواهد کرد

اشعار سهراب سپهری به انگلیسی همراه با ترجمه فارسی

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marg-e-rang (the death of colors)
Poem name : WALL




The wound of night was turning pale

In the desert that I was marching,
Neither a bird’s wing disturbed the clear air
Nor the sound of my footsteps like other nights
Added to the sound of my former steps.

To raise a solid and firm wall around me
I brought from distance, rocks solid and heavy, bare footed.
I built a lofty wall in that place
To hide everything that to my eye was base
And to shut the passage to attacking giants
That in my mind I had visualized.

Days and nights rolled on.
I was stalled exhausted by my labor,
Neither regret kindled the fire of sweet hope in my veins
Nor my bygone recollections bothered me.
But behind the wall my fancy
Was building dark images of giants.
And in smoke color
He designed outlines of devil

Until one night like other silent nights,
The whole wall crumbled down
And my regret was mixed with surprise

TO SPRING

TO SPRING

by: William Blake (1757-1827)

 THOU with dewy locks, who lookest down

Through the clear windows of the morning, turn

Thine angel eyes upon our western isle,

Which in full choir hails thy approach, O Spring!

 

The hills tell one another, and the listening

Valleys hear; all our longing eyes are turn'd

Up to thy bright pavilions: issue forth

And let thy holy feet visit our clime!

 

Come o'er the eastern hills, and let our winds

Kiss thy perfumèd garments; let us taste

Thy morn and evening breath; scatter thy pearls

Upon our lovesick land that mourns for thee.

 

O deck her forth with thy fair fingers; pour

Thy soft kisses on her bosom; and put

Thy golden crown upon her languish'd head,

Whose modest tresses are bound up for thee

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