Translated by :Shahpar HAJI SEYED JAVADI
Kasra (Ali) ANGHAEE born in 1967 is a Swiss poet with Persian roots. His collection of poetry which was published when he was 22 years old, illustrated that he aimed at discovering the unknown world of imagination, meditation and mythology. That clearly is manifested in the subjective elements in his poetry.
He lived in many small cities of his native land, thus gaining a good knowledge of the traditions of his people.
Painting had a great role in his artistic life. In fact it opened a window for him to discover the art world.
He was the editor of poetry pages in the known literary magazines like: Shabab, Meyar and Kelk.
After the persecution and killings of writers, poets and some of the political activists by some Iranian Intelligent Service officials 1n 1998, Anghaee left Iran as he objected the suppressive system of Iran under which he could no more live as a writer and poet.
At present he lives in Switzerland and apart from writing he also translates the works of some great European and American poets into Persian.
Publications:
1-On the stairs of an old tower (Poems), 1989
2-Legend of gypsies ( Scenario ), 1989
3-The gate of Ivy and mist ( Poems ), 1991
4-Humidity of antique potsherds ( Poems ), 1993
5-On the track of dragonflies ( Poems ), 1994
6-My cloudy father ( Story for children), 1995
7-Commemorating the Finale of the Century ( Poems ), 2000
8-A 20 Years Selection of Iranian Love Poems ( 1979 – 1999 ),
9.Statue of the mist (A selection of poems, stories, plays and scenarios), 1997
10. Frozen stars (Poems), 2010
11. The secret of the soil (Poems), 2010
12. Shadows of the future (Poems), 2010
13. To sanctify the ebony (Poems), 2010
14. The leaf under the snow (Poems), 2010
15. The soil and the silk (Poems), 2010
16. Autumn in the mirror (Poems), 2010
17. Haven of the fire (Poems), 2010
18. Returning from infinity (Poems), 2010
19. The roots of the future (Poems), 2010
1
At the end of this poem
you find snow .
You can spread your hair
on a pile of snow
you can open your eyes
and cry over wandering flakes,
You can gather
the words of this poem
in a corner
and make them into a sad snowman.
You can turn his snow tears
into another snowman.
At the end of this poem
there is nothing but
the sheer whiteness of the paper :
silence for sadness
and sadness for silence,
But at the start of this poem
it
snows.
2
One day
you will break the words
that I keep in me.
The day when
not a tear will roll
on a cheek
and the sound of your laughter
will spread
all over the world
just like the sails
that the sailors
leave to the wind
in the far misty shore.
When the world’s oldest tree
blossoms once more
and I find the key of your house
in the snow ;
The day
when the words break in me.
3
The cry of the crows
filled the four seasons.
You were weeping in a handkerchief
and in the whole sky
I could find no more cloud.
Wearing a pink ribbon on your hair
you were looking at the green face of the river.
In the bewilderment of the forest
we had found a hut with white walls
but later we found out
that the hut
was the crows’ dream
and we had been lost
in the labyrinths of a melody
played by an old musician
beyond the river.
After many years
there is still a trace of a tear
on your cheek.