With the Wind [Persian / English dual language]

by Abbas Kiarostami, Iman Tavassoly (Translation), Paul Cronin (Translation)

Original poetry by Iranian filmmaker Abbas Kiarostami. A translation by Iman Tavassoly and Paul Cronin. From the injustice of our time, take refuge in poetry. From the harshness of the beloved, take refuge in poetry. From glaring cruelty, take refuge in poetry.

Genres: Poetry, Iran, Literature, Nonfiction

240 pages, Paperback

First published February 28, 2002

About the author

Abbas Kiarostami was born in Tehran, Iran, in 1940. He graduated from university with a degree in fine arts before starting work as a graphic designer. He then joined the Center for Intellectual Development of Children and Young Adults, where he started a film section, and this started his career as a filmmaker at the age of 30. Since then he has made many movies and has become one of the most important figures in contemporary film. He is also a major figure in the arts world, and has had numerous gallery exhibitions of his photography, short films and poetry. He is an iconic figure for what he has done, and he has achieved it all by believing in the arts and the creativity of his mind.

Reviews

[Edita · Rating 5 out of 5]

Autumn afternoon:
a sycamore leaf
falls softly
and rests
on its own shadow
*
Alas, in this small night of mine
the wind keeps its appoinment with the leaves of the trees.
In this small night of mine is the fear of ruin.
*
How can
the old turtle live
three hundred years
unaware of the sky?
*
The autumn sun
shines through the window
on the flowers of a carpet.
A bee beats its head against the glass.
*
Where is he now?
doing what,
the one I have forgotten already?

[فرشاد]

زیباست

[PGR Nair · Rating 4 out of 5]

WALKING WITH THE WIND: THE POETRY OF ABBAS KIAROSTAMI

My encounters with the world Abbas Kiarostami have hitherto been restricted to his films. But this book of poetry has shown me a different side of this creative genius, considered as one of the giants of World cinema. Iranian film director Abbas Kiarostami's films--Close-Up, Life and Nothing More, Through the Olive Trees, Taste of Cherry (winner of the 1997 Palme d'Or at Cannes), and Ten--have taken their place alongside the masterworks of world cinema. He has produced a body of work that is as rooted in contemporary Iran as it is universal in appeal. The Jean-Luc Godard has said, "Film begins with D.W. Griffith and ends with Abbas Kiarostami." According to Martin Scorsese, "Kiarostami represents the highest level of artistry in the cinema."

Kiarostami's cinematic style is such that he is able to capture the essence of Persian poetry and create poetic imagery within the landscape of his films. In several of his movies such as ‘Where is the Friend's Home’ and ‘The Wind Will Carry Us’, classical Persian poetry (such as from Omar Khayyam) is directly quoted in the film, highlighting the artistic link and intimate connection between them. This in turn reflects on the connection between the past and present, between continuity and change.

Considering the austere poetic appeal of all his films, it is perhaps no wonder that he chose to pen down his observations, perhaps seedlings for his movies, in short haiku like poems capturing the immediacy of visual images. Wind that Carry with us is a windfall for all haiku lovers. The book is beautifully translated (Bilingual) by Ahmad Karimi Hakkak and Michael Beard and carries a fine introduction as well.

Poetry has been intrinsic part of Persian tradition and having made a ten day tour of Iran last year, I may even say that every Iranian bears the look of a poet or an artist. In a city like Isfahan, I saw on many occasions youngsters gathering beneath the Khaju bridge to recite poetry. The mystic tradition of Persian poetry is well-known from the works of the illustrious poets like Hafiz, Omar Khayam and Rumi. The poetic form of Haiku to concretize the evanescent impressions of the natural world therefore must have seemed apropos to this poet cum film director. Honestly, I enjoyed reading Kiarostami’s Persian versions of Haikus better than any collection of Japanese Haiku poetry that I have come across in recent times.

Abbas Kiarostami’s soul rhymes with nature. His poetry, which draws out the beauty of nature even in hideous places and objects, strikingly resonates with the essence of all things (Here he reminds me of the great French poet Francis Ponge). There is a deep involvement of the film maker with even the minute movements of flora and fauna around him. The vignettes he unveil in this collection are acutely visual and are a reflection of his inner cosmos. Only a poet who is ultra-sensitive to the surrounds can observe the mundane and metamorphose it into majestic. The observer and the observed becomes one. The journey of fresh water trout unaware of its eventual fall in salt waters, a nameless flower timidly opening in the cracks of a mountain, a thunder that shuts the bark of a dog, the wind that wavers upon a leaf whether it should let it fall, a patch of snow left as a souvenir of winter, reflection of a worn-out sickle in the moonlight, a spider pausing its work to view sunrise, a drop of sunlight falling into the petals of the first blossom in the spring, a nun caressing a silk fabric-the images in this volume of poetry are splendorous, stunning and revelatory. It puts us to shame our incapacity to remain alive to what we see and fail to ponder.

The reader encounters not dazzling diction, but rather artless, austere phrases that make use of a great body of imagery. The serene, nonchalant, and often profoundly philosophical language of haiku allows the poet to swiftly touch on the core of the universal human condition: love, despair, sufferings, apathy, death. Let me illustrate the beauty of his verses citing some examples.

How merciful
that the turtle doesn’t see
the little bird’s effortless flight

In knowing (or perhaps in seeing) lies our pain. The above poem can be viewed from three different angles: the human observer’s, turtle’s and the bird’s. Perhaps the poet wants to remind us about our impossible desires that are sometimes obviated by our mode of existence. I liked the way he combines space, vision and universal laws to perfect this beautiful poem.

Correspondences and contrasts are a recurring theme in several poems. Here are few examples:

A white foal
emerges through the fog
and disappears
in the fog

The comparison, in the above poem and the one I have quoted below, makes us aware of its subtle shadesthat distinguishes the presence from the absence.

White of a pigeon
erased in white clouds—
a snowy day.

Look at another poem where the colour contrast acquires more sombre overtones.

Yellow violets
violet violets
together
and apart.

How beautifully the poet in a few lines demonstrates the togetherness and separation by comparing and contrasting colours. One can sense the power of discrimination (even racial) deeply in this poem.

The train shrieks
and comes to a halt.

a butterfly sleeps on the rail

The contrast between the roaring train and the sleeping butterfly is powerfully evoked in the above poem. It also underscores the power of our will to change the world; if only the strong had the will to protect the weak! The poem is a brilliant metaphor for what the world should be and I really wish all the Heads of the Nations read this simple verse.

In the assembly of black-clad mourners
the child
gazes boldly at a persimmon

The above one beautifully contrasts a mournful moment and gently reminds us not to flout the joy gleaming at us elsewhere.

Here is another poignant one where the poet compares a general snowy landscape on a graveyard with three particular graves , that still seem to carry the warmth of the youths deceased.

The graveyard
is covered over
with snow.

Only on three tombstones
is the snow melting—
all three young.

The haiku that follows carries all the tensions of a decisive act. The doer pauses for a moment and how important is that fleeting flash thought ‘for the bird...?’ for him (and for the rest of us)!

Trembling hands,
an arrow drawn tight:
moment of release
for the bird...?

Sometimes the thing that may sound logically true, as in the case of a leaf falling on its own shadow, can be arrestingly beautiful as our fortunately unscientific mind is not ready to accept it. In ignorance lies the beauty of our vision.

Autumn afternoon
a sycamore leaf
falls softly
and rests
on its own shadow.

Kiarostami is a film director who wrote poems through camera. These haiku like poems from him illuminate the transient, often unobserved, world around us. As the translators conclude in their introduction: Habitually, nonchalantly, Kiarostami combines the supple lexicon of the Persian language with the vast aesthetic potential of Persian poetry to make that august tradition new. Characteristically, he throws the spotlight on the object of observation rather than on the perceiving mind to keep our attention fixed on the poetic nature of our world. In this way, his poetry embodies and exhibits the most abiding concerns of the entire tradition: the structure of the ineffable, those relations that cannot be reduced to human logic-like the enigma of a dog’s fidelity, the bitterness of truth, the puzzle of poverty in the midst of plenty. The poems in this book often acknowledge and celebrate the presence of mystery in our midst.

I wholeheartedly recommend this collection to even the readers who have no serious interests in poetry.

PS: In case you are unaware of the cinema of Abbas Kiarastomi, here are two reviews of his films that I had written as part of a series of " My hundred favorite films"

http://www.boloji.com/index.cfm?md=Co...

http://www.boloji.com/index.cfm?md=Co...

[پیمان عَلُو · Rating 2 out of 5]

‏ از دست هیچ‌کس
کاری ساخته نیست
وقتی آسمان
قصد باریدن دارد
‏





‏ گفت
از دست من کاری بر نمی‌آید
کاش گفته بود
از دلم





‏ ...
ساعت مچی
از کار می‌افتد
روی دست مرد نابینا





‏ قطار زوزه می‌کشد
و می‌ایستد

پروانه‌ای خفته بر ریل آهن
‏





‏ در زیارتگاه
به هزار چیز اندیشیدم
بیرون که آمدم
یکی در خاطرم نماند





‏ اکنون کجاست ؟
چه می‌کند؟
کسی که فراموشش کرده‌ام.






‏ می‌آیم به تنهایی
می‌نوشم به‌ تنهایی
میخندم به تنهایی
می‌گریم به تنهایی
می‌روم به تنهایی







‏ از صد عابر
یکی می‌ایستد
مقابل بساط من
‏







‏ زنی آبستن
می‌گرید بی‌صدا
در بستر مردی خفته

[ZaRi]

باد با خود خواهد برد
شکوفه های گیلاس را
تا سپیدی ابرها.

***

گفت
از دست من کاری بر نمی آید
کاش گفته بود
از دلم

***

همیشه ناتمام می ماند
حرف های من
با خودم.

[Sara Alaee · Rating 4 out of 5]

"هایکو" را دوست دارم! هایکو شعر نیست. زبان زندگی ست. تجربه شهودی هستی ست. مشاهده و تجربه چیزهاست آن چنان که هستند. هر هایکو لحظه ای عادی از زندگی را تصویر می کند و این لحظه یک دم آن چنان آشناست که بودنش را باور می کنیم و با خود می گوییم: "خیلی آشناست... این را من هم دیده و شنیده ام... همین حالا...همیشه!"

کیارستمیِ شاعر از هنر سینماگری و عکاسیش برای قاب گرفتن همین لحظه ها استفاده می کند. او شعر را عکاسی می کند. هر هایکو بیان شعری اوست از لحظاتی که دیده و عکاسی کرده ست. آرام و باوقار، ساده و پر احساس
:

برگ چنار
فرو می افتد آرام
و قرار می گیرد
بر سایه ی خویش
.در نیمروز پاییزی

Autumn afternoon:
a sycamore leaf
falls softly
and rests
on its own shadow.

[Fereshteh · Rating 4 out of 5]

اولین تجربه ی هایکو خوانی من (یا چیزی شبیه هایکو خوانی!)....فوق العاده بود

"
هایکو دارای دو منظره توامان،چیزی فراتر از فرم ادبی است . راه و وسیله ای است برای دیدن و درک دنیای پیرامون . هر هایکو لحظه ای را در خود تسخیر می کند . لحظه ای عادی که آوازش تا به دورها شنیدنی ست . و وقتی که این لحظه ، دم دم انسان را به بودنش به باور می رساند تا با خود بگوید : " خیلی آشناست ... این را من نیز دیده ام ، شنیده ام و
..."

هایکوگونه هایی که خیلی دوست داشتم رو تو استتو�� هام آپدیت کردم می تونین بخونین و مطمئنم که لذت خواهید برد

بعد از خوندن هر یک از اینها، حس تماشای یه عکس از طبیعتی آشنا و تکراری یا دیدن سکانس هایی آشنا و قبلن دیده شده از یه فیلم دوست داشتنی بهتون دست میده

...تصویر سازی عالی بعضی هایکوگونه ها از طبیعت و حیوانات و آدم ها و بخصوص زمستان و در بعضی های دیگه گریزی به تنهایی بشر امروزی و سردر گمی انسان مدرن سوژه های برجسته ی کیارستمی در این اثر به نظرم اومد

عالی
خوندنش رو از دست ندین
:)

[Alireza · Rating 5 out of 5]

آنها که نه تصور کردند نه حس همه چیز را باختند.

[Pouria · Rating 4 out of 5]

همراه با باد (مجموعه سروده ها)/ عباس کیارستمی/ نشر هنر ایران/ 234 صفحه/ چاپ اول 1378/ تاریخ اتمام کتاب: 3 خرداد 1397/ امتیازم به کتاب از پنج: 4.25
آشنایی من با کیارستمی با شعرهایش بود. بعد از خواندنِ شعرهایش بود که به سراغ سینمایش رفتم و به محبوب ترین کارگردان ایرانی برای من تبدیل شد. شعرهایش کوتاهند و به زبان ساده سخن می گویند اما پرمحتوا. طبیعت، عنصری عجین در بسیاری از شعرهایش است. نگاهِ متفاوت و در عین حال ساده و زیبایش به عناصر طبیعت، باعث دل نوازیِ بیشترِ حضورِ طبیعت در شعرهایش می شود. شعرِ او پر از حس است، گاه پر از تنهایی است. نشان از تجربه های مختلفی از احساسات عمیق انسانی دارد... شعر او نگاه زیبایش به زندگیست و آن قدر خوش خوان و لذت بخش است که عمیقا انسان را غرق خود و کنار گذاشتن کتاب را دشوار می کند.
به نقل از مقدمه ی کتاب: "شعرِ کیارستمی فرزند زمین است و حکایت زندگی و دیگر هیچ... "
شعرهایش را می توان در سینمایش دید و سینمایش را در شعرهایش... روح لطیف زندگی در هر دو سرشار است. عمیقا از خواندن کتاب لذت بردم و انرژی مثبت و آرامش بسیاری از آن گرفتم. روحت شاد...
پوریا روشنی

[Hamid · Rating 5 out of 5]

اکنون کجاست؟
چه می کند؟
کسی که فراموشش کرده ام.

[Sweet Jane]

"Μπουμπούκιασε
Ανθισε
Μαράθηκε
Χάθηκε
Χωρίς ένα βλέμμα πάνω της"

[Naeem Nedaee · Rating 4 out of 5]

A sense of being wasted among other senses.
My personal picks are:

--------------------------------------------
It sprouted
blossomed
withered
and fell to the ground.
Not a soul to see it. p. 45
--------------------------------------------
A drop of rain
rolls off the box-tree leaf
and falls into the muddy water. p. 58
--------------------------------------------
The sagging bridge
scratches the water's surface
warping
the moonlight. p. 70
--------------------------------------------
Hail lands
on the sparrow's egg --
the flight of a tiny bird. p. 111
--------------------------------------------
By night
the little fish wiggles out
of the fisherman's net
onto the shore. p. 209
--------------------------------------------
And more...

[Azadeh A · Rating 3 out of 5]

kind of overwhelming sense of solitude in his poems:
" I arrive alone
I drink alone
I laugh alone
I cry alone
I'm leaving alone."

[Alice Li · Rating 5 out of 5]

He writes a poem just as taking a photo. He takes a photo just as interpreting poems in the nature. He uses words to capture nuances of moments and images to chant.

[Narjes Dorzade · Rating 5 out of 5]

زیباتر از حدی بود که بخوام وصف کنم ......

[Livewithbooks · Rating 3 out of 5]

اکنون کجاست؟
چه می کند؟
کسی که فراموشش کرده ام

[Kutşın Sancaklı · Rating 5 out of 5]

'ayakkabılarım ıslanıyor
karşıya geçerken
yonca tarlasından' ..

[Mohamad Hosein Eqbali · Rating 5 out of 5]

Amazing poems. Kiarostami doesn't disappoint. Translation could be better.

[Shatha · Rating 5 out of 5]

برفقةِ الرّيح أتيتُ
أوّل أيّام الصّيف،
ستأخذني الرّيحُ معها
آخر أيّام الخريف.

[Tirdad · Rating 2 out of 5]

کودکِ تب‌دار
نگاه می‌کند از پشت شیشه
با حسرت
به آدم‌برفی

[Lucía]

"For years now
I have been suspended
between the seasons
like a blade of straw."

[Leonel Menaia · Rating 4 out of 5]

A poesia permite-me centrar na construção das imagens e esquecer qualquer pensamento externo e este livro proporcionou-me uma excelente experiência nesse sentido. O minimalismo dos poemas remete para as imagens dos filmes do realizador e a repetição de símbolos ao longo das páginas cria uma coesão interessante.

[Maryam]

“The watch on the blind man’s wrist
Has stopped.

When i started up out of sleep
It was just the beginning of spring
No more
No less..


I don’t trust anything
As much as the end
Of the night
And of the day..


Following the mirage
Here i am at the water’s edge
Without the feeling of thirst...

[سومر العبيد · Rating 4 out of 5]

فيلم. فيلم طويل من المشاهد التي لا يمكنني تخيل غير عبّاس فكر بها.

[Xapînokan]

Nasıl olur da yaşayabilir
yaşlı kaplumbağa
üç yüz yıl
gökyüzünden habersiz

.

Kimsenin elinden
bir şey gelmez
gökyüzü
yağmaya niyetlendiğinde

.

Gece
uzun
gün
uzun
ömür
kısa

.

Ne kadar düşünsem de
anlamıyorum
karın bu kadar beyaz olmasının sebebini

.

Her zaman yarım kalacak
benim sözlerim
benimle...

.

Rüzgara yoldaş gelmişim
yazın ilk gününde
kendiyle beraber götürecek beni
sonbaharın son günü

.

Geliyorum bir başıma
içiyorum bir başıma
gülüyorum bir başıma
ağlıyorum bir başıma
gidiyorum bir başıma

.

Elimden bir şey gelmez
dedi
keşke gönlümden bir şey gelmez
deseydi

.

Yalnızlığın ilk sonbaharı
aysız bir gökyüzü
ve bir dizi şarkı
yürekte

.

Gölgem
bana yoldaş
mehtaplı gecede

.

Ne kadar düşünsem de
anlamıyorum
ölümden
bu kadar korkmanın sebebini

.

Ne kadar düşünsem de
anlamıyorum
yoksulun elindeki nasırların sebebini

.

Ne kadar düşünsem de
anlamıyorum
hakikatın bu kadar acı olmasının sebebini

.

Ne kadar düşünsem de
anlamıyorum
samanyolunun
bu kadar uzun olmasının sebebini

.

Ne kadar düşünsem de
anlamıyorum
örümceğin işindeki
nizam ve görkemin
sebebini

.

Ne kadar düşünsem de
anlamıyorum
annelerin çocuklarını
bu kadar sevmelerinin sebebini

.

ne kadar düşünsem de
anlamıyorum
köpeklerin bu kadar vefalı olmasının sebebini

[Zay · Rating 5 out of 5]

برفقة الريح هو كتاب شعري رائع للكاتب والمخرج الإيراني عباس كيارستمي. عندما قرأت عن الكاتب، أدركت أنه نفس الشخص الذي أخرج الفيلمين اللذين أحببتهما كثيرًا، Close-Up وWhere Is My Friend's House?، وكلاهما لامس قلبي بطريقة لا توصف. يعبر الفيلم الأول عن واق�� الحياة بأسلوب مؤثر، بينما يروي الثاني قصة طفل يسعى للعثور على منزل صديقه، مما يعكس مواضيع البراءة والطفولة.
هذه هي المرة الأولى التي أقرأ فيها الأدب الإيراني، وقد كانت تجربة فريدة. أسلوب كيارستمي في الكتاب يذكرني كثيرًا بالأدب الياباني، حيث يركز على لحظات عابرة وجميلة من الحياة والطبيعة. الشعر في الكتاب بسيط لكنه يحمل معاني عميقة. أعتقد أنها ستكون أكثر روعة بلغتها الأصلية، كما هو الحال مع كل الأدب الشعري.
-
عندما أُمعنُ في التفكير
لا أفهمُ
سببَ مرارة الحقيقة

عندما أُمعن في التفكير
لا أفهمُ
سبب كلّ هذا العلو للمجرّة

عندما أُمعنُ في التفكير
لا أفهمُ
سببَ كلّ هذا الخوف من الموت.

[Manar]

I have watched previously two films by Kiarostami and it’s obvious from the cinematography that he is a poet.
This book is equal to short cinematic spectacles, it was like a photography book with no single photograph in it.

It sprouted
blossomed
withered
and fell to the ground
not a soul to see it
-
In the community of cherry trees
one does not blossom
by itself, alone.
-
A drop of rain
slides over the windowpane.
A little ink-stained hand
wipes the dew
off the window’s face.
-
Inside the shrine
I thought a thousand thoughts.
when I stepped outside
not one was left in my mind.
-
Out of a hundred passerby
one stops
in front of my stall.
-
She said:
“I just can't.”
I wish she had said:
“My heart won't let me.”

[كـ · Rating 4 out of 5]

أعشق عباس كياروستمي الإنسان
والمخرج و وذي العين الثاقبة
وأعشق كاميرته وأفلامه ونظرته وعينه
هنا يكتب عباس بطريقة سينمائية مذهلة رائعة رقيقة جدا تخلب القلب
فلا أحد غيره بإمكانه أن يكتب بهذه الطريقة السينمائية
أحببت كل مافي هذا الكتاب من شعر وفلسفة ورقة وجدانية ووجدتني في جنة عباس أقرأ بعينه وبقلبه ..
نعم هذا هايكو إيراني جميل جدا جدا ❤️

[Abdelilah Maafi · Rating 3 out of 5]

يكشف هذا الكتاب عن وجه خفي لعباس كيارستمي، بعيدًا عن الكاميرا وأضواء السينما، وجه الشاعر المتأمل في تفاصيل الحياة الصامتة. في هذه المجموعة الشعرية، يتكثّف الجمال في أبسط الصور: ورقة تسقط، نسمة تمر، أو ظلّ شجرة. بأسلوب يقترب من فن الهايكو، يكتب كيارستمي بلغة قليلة الكلمات، لكنها غنية بالدلالات والسكينة. لا يبحث عن الصخب أو البلاغة، بل عن لحظة صدق خالصة مع الذات والعالم. هذا الكتاب ليس مجرد قراءة، بل دعوة للتأمل البطيء في ما نغفل عنه وسط سرعة الحياة.

[- قارئة . · Rating 4 out of 5]

اللي شاف وتابع أفلام كيارستمي
راح يحب المشاهد الرقيقة اللي احتواها شعره في هالكتاب الخفيف 💜

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