For Lena: A poem in Persian by K. Lessan for a Swiss/Iranian child, whose birth is used as a symbol of peace and the coming together of East and West برای لنا

شعر زیر را به مناسبت اولین سالگرد تولد لنا- نازنین فرزند دوستان خوبم مریم و کریستیان سرودم.  لنا  میراث دار دو فرهنگ  غنی و   سمبل  صلح و دوستی  شرق و غرب در جهانی لبریز از درگیری  بین شرق و غرب است

ای لنا ای کودک نیکو سرشت
میوه باغ  خدا از آن بهشت
ای تو ما مت مریم و بابت کریس
نیمیت از ایران و نیمیت از سویس
جشن یک سالیت مبارکها بباد
هر دو ملت گو یدنت زنده باد
جنگ شرق و غرب بین  در هر کران
شرق و غرب اندر تو اینک در امان
هر کجا بینی که جنگ و آتش است
حاصل جهل و روان نا  خوش است

 گر نشد  آ یم به سویت من فرود
هدیه ام  باشد موقت این سرود

چون ز تاتی هر دو پا یت  جان گرفت
بیرون از منزل دلت آرام گرفت
خیره شو بر آلپ و بر دریاچه ها
حظ کن از زیباییهای اشتفا
گر که آموختی تو ژرمن  را به فول
کوش  فا رسی را نیز   گردی قبول
 رفتی ایران خود  سلا مم  را رسان
سرزمین ما دری را قدر دان

از دماوند و بم و آن مرو دشت
تخت جمشید و سپاهان تا به رشت
 هر زمینش یادگار نسلهاست
تکه پاره نقشه اش از جنگهاست
چون رسیدی شهر شیراز قدیم
دل گشا بر آن شمیم و آن نسیم
حافظانه جام عشق پیمانه شو
با "لسان" مولوی دردانه شو
"با لب دمساز خود گر جفتمی "
"همچو نی من گفتنیها گفتمی "
همچو حافظ عشق را کن تجربت
تا رود بر عر ش ا علا مرتبت

شا د  باش و شا د  زی اینک لنا
سالها پاینده باشی ای لنا  


خشایار لسان
ژنو   - ۷ا اکتبر ۲۰۱۶
  

Love...

Love,

I know not of life's consequences,

for if life knew,

and fate knew too,

life would no longer be the same,

and neither would fate.

Love,

its astounding to hear

that one can leave one's love

aside

in the vain hope of finding another

But maybe sometimes

the truth is tons heftier

and a lot uglier than we ever imagined

and that it was all true

what they said in the fairy tales

that Romeo never embraced Juliet

and Majoon never felt Laylee

in real life

it was all to be told in fairy tales

And maybe sometimes

its sorrow religiously impinges onto a humble pen

such as this

more twisted than my tongue

that takes a fancy stroll in the midnight hour

with the lamp oil almost finished

for some fresh air

to release the depression

of a tired mind that can no longer endure

searching in vain

something that can only be bought

with a currency whose least coin is courage

And maybe

these fairy tales

are only for you and I

to comfort and to soothe

these wounded souls

that it was not at all in vain

that it was worth the journey

however bumpy and abrupt the end

or end to be

And maybe

there is love

and life

beyond the shadows of these huge mountains

or fields afar

that we never considered worth delving into

some life that cannot be torn apart

that is real

and full of real people

with a sun brighter than that of our own

a music more in tune than that of our own

with its birds singing aloud in their heavenly flight

where there is relative peace and quiet

a chance to live again.

And maybe sometimes,

we are meant to be cruel

only to be kind

and we are not destined to be together

and that we ought to come out of this fantasy

and say no to futile tears

and say yes to the ongoing caravan of life

and embrace it fully

And maybe sometimes

for one's lack of clear brevity

a cowardly act is courageous enough

and maybe sometimes

-sometime-

you

my love

can forget

and forgive

for isn't this what love is all about?

And if you ever thought of it as a waste,

you only need to look back

over your shoulder

and you'll find

the long trail of sweet memories that you and I are part of

and you'll see me smiling once again

like old times

that have long gone by.

Khashayar Lessan,

Manchester, March 27th 1996