Sadness

–

They smell your mouth

in case you said, ‘I love you.’

–

They smell your heart

in case there is a flame hidden in it.

–

It’s a strange time, beloved.

–

And they whip Love at the roadside post.

–

One must hide love in the pantry.[1]

–

In this twisted wintry cul-de-sac

the fire

is kept burning

with the fuel of anthems and poetry.

–

Do not risk thinking.

–

It’s a strange time, beloved,

–

He who pounds on the door at night time

has come to kill the lantern.

One must hide light in the pantry.

–

Now the butchers are stationed at every crossroads

with bloodied block and cleaver.

–

It’s a strange time, beloved.

–

And they carve a smile on the lips

and a song on the mouth.

One must hide joy in the pantry

–

The canary becomes a kebab

on the fires of rose and jasmine

–

It’s a strange time, beloved.

–

The drunken victorious demon

is feasting at the table of our death.

God too must be hidden in the pantry.

–

Ahmad Shamlou (1925-2000) tr. Martin and Farah Turner

[1] Pastou … hidden inner room or sanctum for food storage.