"Forugh Farokhzad Skyship2" genre: Contemporary
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	Gift, Conquering the Garden, I'll be greeting the Sun again. 3 Fascinating Songs by Forugh Farrokhzad, in Farsi original and English translation by Ahmad Karimi-Hakkak.
	MP3.com CD: Rumi Air ~ Shirazi Water - buy it! CD: Forugh Farrokhzad Skyship   Label: Fascinating Rise Credits: Ahmad Karimi-Hakkak & Fascinating Rise
	Story Behind the Song I was reading the Immortal Forugh Farrokhzad since I learned to read & write. While visiting Friends in Westwood, California I received 20 of her works as a present that was along with the English translation of Ahmad Karimi-Hakkak. So I invited the Kind Friend who saw such a precious book in Ketab.com, a roomy bright store in Westwood Boulevard, to read The Zendeh_yaad Forugh Farrokhzad in English while I read in Farsi. And he did. Forugh Farrokhzad has been Inspiring & motivating millions of her friends with her great pioneering spirit through her work, and is living in the Hearts of Compassionate and intelligent men and women on Earth. We would like to dedicate the Fresh Air of Forugh Farrokhzad to Siavash Ghomayshi, with the hope to make a CD of the work of Forugh Farrokhzad with him. Lyrics Fascinating Rise Skyship 2 takes You into the Space Garden of Forugh Farrokhzad, original in Farsi, and the translation in English by Ahmad Karimi-Hakkak. To read the original texts in Farsi, copy this link into a new browser window: http://rumionrequest.tapesh.com/html/pn/sohrab_forough.htm Hedye ( Present, Gift ), Fath~A~baagh ( Conquering the Garden ), Beh Aaftaab Salaami dobaareh khaaham daad ( I'll be greeting the Sun again ) Gift I speak out of the deep night out of the deep of darkness and out of the deep night I speak. If you come to my dwelling, my friend bring me a lamp and a window I can look through at the crowd in the happy alley. Conquering the Garden The hooded crow that flew off above our heads piercing the disparate thoughts of a vagrant cloud whose cry, like a short spear, traversed the horizon will spread the news about us throughout the town. Everyone knows everyone knows that you and I peered into the garden, through that cold, captious casement, and picked the apple from that playful, out-of-reach branch. Everyone fears everyone fears -but you and I , joined the lamp, the water, the mirror, and feared not. I speak not of the flimsy bond between two names, or union somewhere inside the pulping pages of an ancient ledger I speak of my happy hair, touched by the burning peonies of your kisses and the defiant intimacy of our bodies, and the brilliance of our nakedness, like the scale of a fish under water. I speak of the life in a silvery tune the little jetting spring murmurs at dawn. One night in that green succulent forest we asked of the wild hare, in that cold blooded, tumultuous sea we asked of the pregnant mother-of-pearl, and atop that odd-looking towering peak we asked of the young eagles what to do. Everyone knows everyone knows that we have found our way to the cold and quiet repose of the phoenix that we have found the truth in a flower bed deep in the bashful eyes of a nameless flower and immortality in the limitless moment when the two suns gazed at each other. I speak not of a fearful whispering in the dark, but of the day, and of wide open windows and of fresh air and of a stove in which useless things burn to ash, and of an earth bearing a seed of another kind, and of birth, growth, pride. I speak of our loving hands when they have built their bridge above the dark night, over which travel messages of perfume, light, and breeze. Come to the meadow to the vast meadow and call me from behind the breath of silk-tasseled acacia, like a stag calling his mate. The drapes are doleful with hidden envy and innocent little doves on top of the white tower lower their heads to the ground. I'll Be Greeting the Sun Again I'll be greeting the sun again and the stream that flowed in me and the clouds that were my long thoughts and the painful growth of the aspens in the grove, that passed through droughts with me. I'll be greeting the flocks of crows, who brought me as souvenirs smells of the fields at night. I'll be greeting my mother again who lived in the mirror and resembled my old age and the earth whose inner parts my lust for renewal had sown with green seedlings. I shall come, I shall come, I shall come with my hair: diffusing smells of the underworld, with my eyes: intense experiences beyond the wall. I shall come, I shall come, I shall come and the threshold will be, replete with love, and I'll be greeting again those who love and the girl still waiting at the threshold replete with love. Original by Forukh Farrokhzad Translation by Ahmad Karimi-Hakkak

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