~ Forough Farrokhzad, Four Interviews
(January 5, 1935—February 13, 1967)
An excerpt from Window
by Forough Farrokhzad
...I arrive from beneath roots of carnivorous trees,
And my mind is still filled -with the fearful cries of dried butterflies-
under weighty volumes of pale, aged books.
When my trust was hung-
from the frail justice line of this town,
And in the streets, they were cutting off the head of my torch,
When they blind-folded the innocent eyes of my love,
When fresh blood erupted from all veins of my shaking dreams,
And when my life was nothing-
but the regular chant of a Grandfather clock,
I realized that I had to love,
I had to love madly.
Renee is hosting the Poetry Friday round-up at No Water River.
My grandmother Helen passed away Wednesday night -- here's a post I shared about her earlier.