"The Wind-Up Doll" (Forough Farrokhzad)

                                                                                                                                    

The Wind-Up Doll

More than this

Oh, yes,

One can remain silent longer than this

Throughout long hours

With a static stare

Much like the one of the dead

One can stay transfixed

In the smoke of a cigarette

The shape of a cup

A colorless flower on the carpet

An imaginary line on the wall 

With dry fingers

One can draw the curtain aside

And see that

In the middle of the street

It is pouring rain

A child waits under an arch

Holding his colorful kites

A decrepit cart

Abandons an empty square with noisy haste

One can remain static

Next to a curtain, but blind, but deaf

One can call out with a severely false, severely unknown voice

 “I do love”

In the prevailing arms of a man

One can be a beautiful and healthy female

With a body much like a table cloth made of leather

With two big, firm breasts

One can pollute the chastity of love

In the bed of a drunk, a maniac, a vagabond

One can belittle with ingenuity  

Every grand riddle

One can dedicate oneself to just solving a crossword puzzle

One can be content with only the discovery of a meaningless answer

Yes, a meaningless answer, five or six letters

One can kneel down a whole life

With a lowered head at the edge of a cold altar

One can see God in an unknown grave

One can gain faith with a meaningless coin

Like an old pilgrim,

One can rot away in the cells of a mosque

One can have a consistent, precise result

Like zero in subtractions, sums and multiplications

One can suppose your eye in its socket

The colorless button of an old shoe     

One can dry out like water in a pit

One can hide a precious moment with shame

Like a ridiculous instant black and white photograph

At the bottom of a trunk

One can hang in the empty, forgotten frame of a day

The portrait of an accused, a defeated, a crucified

One can cover the holes of a wall

With masks

One can connect with more meaningless pictures  

One can be like wind-up dolls

See one’s world with two crystal eyes 

With a body filled with straw

One can sleep for years

Between lace and sequins

In a broadcloth box

With every meaningless squeeze of a hand

One can call out in vain

“Oh, I am so very happy!”

Forough Farrokhzad (1935-1967)