Poetry of Spring and the New Year

from the Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam

    Now the new year, reviving old desires,
    The thoughtful soul to solitude retires
    Where the white hand of Moses on the bough
    Puts out, and Jesus from the ground suspires.

* * *

* * *

    Time & clime, & wealth & health, & root & fruit, & state & fate
    May you in your majesty, continue in year and name
    Year joyous, clime pleasant, wealth plenty, and health whole
    Root constant, fruit enduring, state splendid, and fate tame.

    Ó Shahriar Shahriari
    December 24, 2001

***

    An Ode To A Tree

    You are the tall figure of desire, O' tree

    The sky embraces you at all times
    You are tall, O' tree

    Your hands are full of stars and your soul full of spring
    You are beautiful, O' tree

    When winds make a nest in your tangled leaves,
    When winds comb your green hair,
    You are fantastic, O' tree

    When the wild fingers of rain grasp you,
    In its cold feast
    You are the sad, sweet-singing musician, O' tree

    Under your feet,
    Here is night and night-struck people whose eyes
    Have not seen the day
    How is it that you have seen the day?
    How is it that you have seen the sun?
    And you are amazingly gazing at them, O' tree!

    As you bound the earthly people by a thousand strings,
    Don't be scared of thunder,
    Don't be scared of lightning.
    You will prevail, O' tree

    Don't rebel, O' scared tree that like our hope,
    You are with us, but still lonely, O' tree.


    By Siavash Kasrai

***

    Come, fill the cup, and in the fire of spring Your winter garment of repentance fling.
    The bird of time has but a little way
    To flutter-and the bird is on the wing.

Garden Flowers

On the passing of time ~~ translated by the 19th Century British poet, Edward Fitzgerald

    The moving finger writes, and, having writ,
    Moves on; nor all thy piety nor wit
    Shall lure it back to cancel half a line,
    Nor all thy tears wash out a word of it.
    Ah, fill the cup... What bodes it to repeat
    How time is slipping underneath our feet.
    Unborn tomorrow and dead yesterday,
    Why fret about them if today be sweet?

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