۱۳۸۸ آبان ۲۲, جمعه

prince charming

Maybe you maybe you may you be one of those waiting, oh one of those waiting for the prince charming, I'm not quite sure about you but I was... about you I know nothing but I had always been waiting to see prince, galloping towards me, I mean you know his horse galloping and he, he standing, sitting going up and down hitting the saddle i gazing i see he's gazing at the sunset and glancing at me as if we both know something and you know he knows me better than the girl next door whom i'm telling you is loved by that troubadour and i don't care and the prince will he come? Prince much took care of me you know we're married now but i'm not like other girls as you know and i never do never what they always do. I just sometimes think why prince's gazes are so empty and that damned troubadour the corny you know he's sort of funny but not as my prince charming and i don't like that girl the horny she was fine before but she does things so disgraceful and they, they oh carelessly copulate in the woods i don't know how to say they em they are shameless n i accidentally watched them once i didn't want, just i was walking em, i twice it was, telling you the truth, and ah they are i don't know, me and prince charming tried the intercourse twice and that was tickling i say em aching i didn't like it but that shameless girl i never ah she said i deceived the prince, i told her everything but she oh i don't forgive her she and that troubadour not so funny i ah i maybe i made a mistake i knew that he was not quite the so called prince charming because his horse you know it was black not white, but i'm telling you he's rich and so handsome and powerful riding the horse you should see him he's em marvelous you can't imagine his father is the real king his mother keeps the house the castle i mean, she orders fifteen maids and i've been there in the castle but i wanted us to live in our own house and the prince had our own tiny castle be made here in the woods he loves me you know and he loved me by the first sight i just not intendedly kissed him and he loved me then you know he powerfully hugged me and em we rode on the horse i hold him tightly he asked me for marriage and i you know m not the flirting type like other girls like that troubadour's girl dancing foolish and stuffs like that the other girls do im not like other girls i e mi never doo i em you know he loved my lips said will you marry me the prince charming said that you know but his horse was black and i didn't then care till some time after the wedding we got into lots of quarrels and he left me some days and i thought maybe the real prince, beside having a white horse should canter not gallop their horses i mean their white horses. You know i never do what other girls do i you shouldn't think that i cared about his wealth and fame and ah that troubadour he had a huge em you know he sings well and i don't know he maybe she the disgraceful girl just wants to have fun with him and you know i'm not that kind i waited a hell of years on top of that hill for the prince charming to come and he did it one day i strode to his horse i em he was i can't see he was gazing at the sunset and i he suddenly saw me and i you know m not the flirting type i smilled and i just caressed his black horse and he i that shameless girl next door she i hate so much when making love with that troubadour in the woods aaaah why didn't my prince have a white horse? I was a special girl and he was a special one, prince charming oh the prince is a special one. isn't he? I love my husband and im the queen somehow i would be, but i don't, you know, i hate all the girls i'm different i but that damned troubadour sings aloud that all the girls think they are different than the other girls and i oh well i'm not i hate other girls i hate that troubadour that prince charming so much takes care of me. I wish he had a white horse.

می‌مانستم


برای تو هم مرگ، این آواز را امشب سر دادم. برای تو هم مرگ، امشب این آواز را سر دادم. برای تو هم مرگ‌ ِ امشب، این آواز، تو را سر دادم. برای تو هم امشب، این آواز را سر دادم. برای تو همین امشب این آواز را سر دادم. برای تو من این سر کشیدم برای تو مرگ، این هم آواز، من که برای تو هم امشب این آواز را سر دادم و همین امشب چگونه می‌شوم همین حال، چگونه شده‌ام؛ این چرخشی پی در پی، گریبانم این چرخشی است که پی در پی به سراغم می‌آید و آوازم این فریاد ِ من این، همین امشب می‌گردم بی‌امان و من و این من و این من و همین امشب که نمی‌دانم چگونه است و چگونه است و چگونه هست و این همین حالا که دستم می‌رود و از دستم به سر کشیده‌ام این سروده‌ی زیبای روزهای بعد از مرگ من است و این مرگ من است و این کلمه‌ی من است که بعدش مانده‌ام برای کلمه‌ای که بعدش مانده‌ام برای حرفی که ما می‌مانم و ما می‌مانم و می‌ماند و می‌ماند و می‌ماند و من همین من، همین حال ِ من به همه می‌مانم. مگرم غم فرا رسیده است و از دستم مرگ می‌کِشد، غم را می‌کُشد، من را می‌ماند همین غم و آن دستِ رو به مرگم که مرا نمی‌رسد و ما را نمی‌مانم و می‌مانم و نه من، نه برای تو هم این شب، که مرگ آواز ِ تو را به سر می‌خواهم من این آواز ِ بر لبِ شب را می‌خوانم و نمی‌دانم که چگونه می‌مانم؛ من گشته‌ام سر، گشته‌ام من باز، گشته‌ام به من. در گوش باد فریاد می‌زنم در این گوشه باد فریاد می‌زنم در گوش باد می‌کشم داد در این گوشه خالی است این باد هیچ است که می‌رود از این گوشه هیچ است که کم می‌شود این باد از کجا در این گوشه فریادم از یادم رفته‌ام این گوشه در بادم فریاد می‌کشم این آواز هیچ ِ من.

.

.

۱۳۸۸ آبان ۱۴, پنجشنبه

People

One big mistake I made / To put all these in front of your eyes / With photos not that much related / Making you not to give a damn / About my explanation of this alien / We call it human / I didn't even talk about he, you and man / Any way I found a way to say / That what was going to happen / In November 2009 / By the time lines below were written / We were all in 2008 / Same yellow November / Now I see that / All autumns are gonna be / Time for departure / You or me / I've been broken over and over / Treated I was like some old leaves / Cracks are what autumn brings / Remembering the limbs / Would make memories of a dreamed spring / Though you were not the dreamer / Now I see that I shouldn't have / Shown you dear, my dreamland / Heading the future- now we call it now / Some stories were to be histories / Me and she in there / Walking memories / First words came and it all went on / by then just nothing was gone / First we thought that you / you I don't know who / now I think that she / the one I say me / Is the one and I see that I'm done / We treading / The autumn leaves / Yet we're not talking the spring lives

(Nov.09)

.

Part ONE

The cars passing by, all around cars / Thinking that it's more crowded in the bars / I’ve been waiting since Twenty minutes / After two have had past / In a sidewalk to see a nice girl / By then it was three o’clock at last / We were going to make a day ‘till / Day was gone and we at least seven miles / Have walked and have run out of bill / She appeared in her three layered clothes / That made me think / I was in my boots, that torn out blouse in pink / And pair of dark blue jeans so confident / She had red, dark brown and unbuttoned over-all in black / She saw me, then got hit by a car / which is called accident / Another car slightly hit her went out of it’s track / I couldn’t shout I heard different voices / There’s a hospital one man said / We three carried her, there were no other choices / The first driver didn’t want to touch the “Zan” / The other told him “fuck you man” / Hospital, I almost faded out, her father came / He anxiously thanked the other young man / She was saved, second driver only one to blame / Later his car wreck was stolen, the first driver gone / The young man then went to her room / He was gone, then the sister came / Five minutes later, three and fifty one / Her father went to bring the mother / What am I doing there, I wasn’t the brother / I saw the sister, she smiled at me / She knew me, said she wanted to see / Me, nervously asked “how is she?” / “She’s right, just want you to be.” / Her Leg was broken, four teeth lost / Words passing by, words passing by / Wounded she was behind one ear / She smiled “stupid friendship and it’s cost” / “Quite an experience” I said “no need to worry” / She cried loud in her sister’s arms / “I don’t want this, shouldn’t that driver be sorry?” / At most two months her leg would be in cast / The father came back / “Hi young man.” / Mother goes to her daughter fast / She cries and she stands and she says / “He is my savior man” / The father says “so who was the other young human?”

.

Part TWO

On a concrete cube I was seated / some five meters wall for the background / Of three human to be defeated / Soon, as if earthquake was about to come / There she was walking around / And beside her Was a He / I can guess Who he could be / Someone more than a friend / For her or more than somebody like me / Leaning against a retaining wall / He was facing a window in the hall / Telling me something like what’s up? /// A strange thing happened to our neighbor / Beyond that wall, I showed them which one / My mother said that a newly bride / Found dead while her groom with no pride / Two days after wedding was at hard labor / She simply was suffocated with a plastic / Stuff, nobody knows what / My father heard and said god damn

China with Qomeini, oh imam /// “Thank you to tell us such stuffs.” / I told her that’s not my fault / He just said what is up / She laughed and stopped / A ceiling I could see as her background / “Why don’t you tell him the reason, why / We are here to tell him, what?” / He said angrily with a grim smile / She said she has come just to see me / “Don’t bring me your fights” / He walked to face another wall / The ceiling moved and she said / “See? The earthquake has come” / I looked up her face, smiled: / “Now, that it has come / And our deaths has just begun / Give me a kiss, a gentle goodbye” / She did smile beside my lips, with a vast devotion / I kissed away her lipstick color / With something more than a simple emotion / The ground quaked and we didn’t die / The HE came to ME / “Goodbye” he shook my hands / Off the ceiling dust / “Come visit me every now and then” / They went to watch the TV news / While cleaning their bodies off the bruise / Seven point five Richter scale / A lot more than forty thousands dead / And no less than millions pale / For me that was just a shower of memory dust

.

Part THREE

Thursday evening / A band of more than ten people / Could be gathered, dinning / With the excuse of being old friends / My beloved, she’s a dancer / Is not one of these stupid dead-ends / Bunch of architects and musicians whom she fears / Small scales of the big losers / I hated ‘em for more than three years /// It feels like you're feeling bad / My sensation too, sometimes goes like that / Touch the experience that's not all flat / Have this from me, your not so dear lad / That feels like we're all sad / People of not so far away past / I might spend Thursday by their empty memories / Shallow artists of no territories / If it is canceled I’ll let you know / That is possible, because / Most of the times they are employed /// All I here said was, bullshat / If it wasn't just like that / I for sure would have put that in my hat / Look at me making shit like shat / What is all that / Oh what is all that? / Someone sad said to someone mad / Touch my hand, say: this, my new brand / Maybe he hasn’t even liked her once / Or he wouldn’t do by any chance / This body dies / I don’t want it to / Since it’s not the thing that flies / Nor the soul like shit in the skies / All these lies / So what’s the point of / Drawing / Points, at the end of the lines /// Ich, du, er, sie, es, ihr, wir, Sie? / Why did you add the words / I couldn’t see / By the way / No meeting did occur / Due to the fact that no benefit is in there / After one year of being kept secluded / How could they find me attractive, disillusioned? / As far as they could see just my poor clothing / I was nothing more than a classmate, boring / Just in the case of student matters / I could be of help, no more exploring / Appear in such manner, I’m telling you / That no Bourgeois can fall in love with you / Their minds were spoiled / Even if they were not as rich as what they showed / But I wouldn’t bother / To meet those empty friends, once a year / Along with my valuable friends / One day or another /

.

Part FOUR

In a strange way last night / One of my friend committed suicide / She was my classmate but / Not in a very right time / There she was / When we were in the same college /// My father saw her face in TV / And didn’t even know her / I asked him why / The body was found in the woods / By some kids playing there / The roles of dirty dudes /// Detectives later, discussing the facts / And no fact as my mother is the killer / Or any of my friends / I wasn’t at the center of the case neither / Nor did I feel free to be out of it / I was called to be there and… /// I couldn’t distinguish the parts / To be of one body / The work of art / There was a boy who called the polices / They arrived to see the dead body / Cut into six different pieces /// Another boy holding in his hands / A piece in English we call breast / Being hang upon the left hand of my friend / One policeman approached and took it / With his fingers, by the end of her white and red bra / And shook it / The bra was emptied out of flesh / Falling down and one muddy splash /// “Thank you, go play with your other friends” / He sighed and turned to watch me / Shocked in my own place / Girls and boys further / Were still playing around / Hands in hands singing their songs / That in the woods, what have they done / Polices were writing everything down /// What are you doing, here / You can not see the naked body unless / Is she your wife? The policeman says / No, but that happy boy in there / Is my son jumping up and down / He likes to call this park, jungle / So he called me an hour ago / Daddy, in jungle, auntie is dead / Have we done the right thing / To call the police first?/ You know, I said yes / We live in that block and she did right beside / I better say / She’s our family friend./// And in that manner she couldn’t / Have committed suicide / I hesitated but at last showed them / The letter she had given me / Just the day before last night / Then things were cleared off the scene /// And bunch of psychiatrists started / Working on the letter in between / The conclusion was read aloud in TV / By one bearded man laughing / “… and then, oh well / She had committed such fancy suicide”

(Nov.08)

۱۳۸۸ آبان ۷, پنجشنبه

Cesare Zavattini

Umberto D. (9/10) a
by Vittorio de Sica
.

چزاره زاواتینی مردی است خجالتی؟ مهم نیست به هر حال راه خودش را پیدا کرده است و سوال اینجاست که نئورئالیسم را روسلینی آغازید یا دسیکا یا اگر از من بپرسید؟ (یا) اگر از من می پرسیدید قبلتر اعتبار هر چیز خوبی در این جریان را به طریقی می‌رساندم به ویسکونتی، چه آنچه از شعور باید سراغ گرفت در فیلم‌های به گفته‌ای نئورئالیستی لوکینو ویسکونتی خود داد می‌زنند. بماند، وقتی چرخش چزاره زاواتینی بین چهره‌های سینمای باحال ایتالیا را می‌بینی حتما برایت سوال می‌شود که سینمای ایتالیا روی دست‌های چزاره می‌چرخد؟ به هر حال گمان می‌رود چزاره شخصیتی خجالتی باشد و شاید همین خلاء‌ ِ نمی‌دانم چه باعث شده باشد که جدای از همکاری‌های نوشتاری با بزرگان بیشتر در پهلوی دسیکا مشاهده بشود. بیشتر از بیست فیلم که چزاره نوشته است و ویتوریو ساخته است. چرا چزاره خودش فیلمی نساخت؟ این سوال را نمی‌پرسیدم اگر آنتونیونی آن همکار یک عمرش بود، نه دسیکا، ولی در کنار دسیکا این سوال باید نمود پیدا کند. دسیکا خود بازیگر است، اسکار می‌گیرد مثل آن یکی که نامش فلینی باشد، نقش‌ها را برای بازیگرها بازی می‌کند، آنتونیونی می‌نشیند کناری و حرفی هم اگر لازم نباشد نمی‌زند، ولی آنتونیونی هم خجالتی است و نتیجه‌اش می‌شود اینکه در فیلم‌هایش بازیگرهای کلفت ایفای نقش می‌کنند -جبران خلا در جهتی دیگر. نئورئالیسم هر چه مفید بوده باشد فقط یک جاروجنجال بوده است، چه آن‌که قبلتر رنوار همه‌ی آنچه را می‌کرد که برای فیلمسازی استودیویی غریب بود. بماند که ویسکونتی دستیار رنوار بود و از همین‌جا هم شده اگر از من بپرسید باز هم نقطه‌ی شروع نئورئالیسم را ویسکونتی به حساب خواهم آورد. ولی باز هم نئورئالیسم ایتالیا می‌شود همان به تصویر کشیدن بدبختی‌های نادیدنی برای لذت بردن ِ آدم‌های خوشب‌بخت! با این حال نئورئالیست‌ها پا از این بهره‌کشی فراتر گذاشتند و خیال خوشبخت‌ها را رها نکردند و جاهایی اگر لازم بود کودکی بدبخت را از ارتفاع به زمین کوبیدند تا بمیرد و قهرمانی‌اش سرانجامی نداشته باشد ( یک تم تکراری لذت حیاتی برا خوش‌بخت‌ها همان قهرمانی است که از دل سختی‌ها و رنج‌ها بیرون آمده است.) نئورئالیسم قبل از آن که پول ساز شود بود، به هیچ وجه من آن را آوان-گارد نخواهم دانست، یک اتفاق بود از آن نوع که دیر یا زود خواهد افتاد، فقط کسی باید ریسکش را می‌کرد و قدم می‌گداشت در راهش. برای همین است که که باید بعدتر کسی پیدا می‌شد تا جمله‌ای را به کار برد که دیر یا زود به کار برده می‌شد: نئورئالیسم مرده است. عبارتی مسخره که باید گوینده اش را هر که باشد فردی سودجو دانست. آنها که خودشان فکری شدند که با حرفژ هاشان جریانی ساخته‌شده است با حرف‌هاشان نیز خیالی شدند که نوزادشان مرده است. ولی توهمی بود که خود را در مراسم زایمان متصور شده بودند. مردن نئورئالیسم تنها ترجمه‌ی لفظی این عبارت بود که دیگر پولساز نیست. وگرنه زنده ماند؛ البته چیزی منظورم است که همچنین اسمی نداشته است هیچ وقت. همان چیزی که روی دست‌های رنوار، بلاستی، ویسکونتی، روسلینی، دسیکا و هم آنتونیونی و حتی فلینی و غیرواقع‌گرا بودنش در کلمه و این‌ها پرداخته شد. اومبرتو سالی ساخته‌شد که ابن جریان شروع می‌کرد به افول، یعنی چی؟ شاید مدت زیادی از جنگ گذشته بود و از بدبختی عینی مردم کمتر شده بود و شاید دیگر مردم عادی به خاطر چندرغاز به صورت گله‌ای در این فیلم‌ها سیاه لشکر نمی‌شدند تا فیلمسازها با هزینه‌ی کم سود زیاد ببرند. (البته آدم گاهی شک می‌کند، مثلا به دختر بازیگر اومبرتو به صورت اتفاقی پول خوبی می‌دهند، ولی خب در مقایسه با "معجزه در میلان" فیلم کلا خیلی بازیگر ندارد.) شاید ایتالیایی‌ها دست کم فکر کردند آن‌قدرها وضعشان خراب نیست (یا نباید باشد) یا خسته شدند از بس از بدبختی مردم لذت بردند (به هر حال برای گذراندن وقت به نحو احسن به سینما می‌رفتند و در کنار این فیلم‌ها می‌شد فیلم‌های خوشحال و خوش‌نگر آمریکایی دید) چیزیچیزی که واضح است پول است که این جریان را پیش کشید و جلو برد و وقتی هم که دید سودی در کار نیست خیال کرد مرده است. تا جایی که یادم مانده در بین این فیلم‌هایی که با اسم این جریان صداشان می‌کنند از همه بیشتر "زمین می‌لرزد" ِ ویسکونتی را دوست داشته‌ام و با این حال به خیالم مهمترین چهره‌ی این جریان همین چزاره زاواتینی است. ( پس چارلی چاپلین چی؟ خب آن دیگری جریان درآمدی خاصی دیگر دارد، با هم قاطی شان نکن! دزد دوچرخه را ببین که آن هم به گونه‌ای می‌فروشد. عجب است. نامش چیست این کار؟)

۱۳۸۸ آبان ۳, یکشنبه

غم ‌- بَرک

دلم برایت پر نمی‌کشد / اتاقم را به هم ریخته‌ام برای دو یا سه روز / زیر و رو شده‌ام / کاغذهای قدیم‌تر را برگ می‌زنم / کنج اتاق گم بوده‌ام امروز / دیروز یا پریروز نشسته بودم و کاری نمی‌کردم یک لحظه‌ای تا دق‌مرگ نشوم / یادم ماند که خیره شده بودم تا هر چه هست بگذرد از روی دلم / ای هم‌اتاقی! با احساسات تو بازی شده است / زیر لب تکرار می‌کنم / به همین راحتی / من؛ سنگدلی‌ و نه جان‌سختی / از روی کاغذها می‌گذرم / از این دیوار تا آن دیوار / آن طرف میزم را از وسط پاره‌ خواهم کرد / بالاترش کتابخانه‌ای بنا می‌شود / جمله‌ی سریال‌های لاس-و-گاس : با احساسات من بازی شده است / ولی عبارتی بهتر نساخته‌ام هنوز / دلم از تو پُر است / دستم نمی‌لرزد، دلم ایستاده، دلم / دلم برایت پر نمی‌کشد / برگ می‌کشد / زمین‌گیر شده‌است / در آرامش ابدی که من غایبم چه سود؟ / همیشه برایت بهترین را خواسته‌ام / فقط کمی صبور باش در این جستجو / دلم برایت پر نمی‌کشد و سنگین بر زمین نشسته‌ام همچون خودت / اتاقم بوی چهار سالی قبل‌تر را گرفته است / کتابی تازه خریده‌ام / پول‌هایم تمام شده است / دلم می‌گیرد به همان دیوار شعر قدیم‌تر / ولی اشکم می‌دانم با جفتک‌های چهارگوش درمانده می‌شود / دلم پر نمی‌کشد وقتی دیگر نمی‌خواهی با احساساتِ من بازی کنی / می‌روم اتاقم تا دوچرخه‌سواری کنم / از این گوشه تا آن گوشه کاغذ و کتاب روی زمین / از مادرم پلاستیکی گرفتم برای دورریختنی‌ها / از سر برفت و به‌سر آمد...