Kay Hassan
In the realm of retrospection, my heart resonates with a lament for an Indian Zoroastrian Lady, whose recent act of sacrifice reverberates through time. She, who parted with her sole haven of prayers—a rare papyrus vessel encapsulating the Zoroastrian creed's cosmic essence. Ironically, it is amidst the parlance of bootleggers that I find myself occasionally imparting to her son, "Ah, the irony, my friend, for we stand as the true heirs of Zoroaster. A revelation unsought, a legacy concealed."
As swarming locusts devour the fabric of your creed,
Delicately unravel your cocoon, let your spirit take the lead,
No maritime authority guides your course, a tale obscured,
For rocks resist the dance of currents, their secret unheard,
In truth, no steadfast companion by your side will stand,
No refuge found in ancestral caves across the land.
Unfurl your sail, descend the towering cliffs with grace,
To verdant pastures where your lineage finds its sacred place,
Refrain from concealing your diamond visage in mountain's shroud,
Bid adieu to servitude to monarchs' steeds, cast off that shroud,
Engage in the strategic game of life upon wisdom's board,
Master silk's artistry, intricate fabrics richly stored.
Or beneath Hephaestus' gaze, within Xenophon's echo's frame,
Embark on art's odyssey, forging mastery's flame,
From the gold of your weathered soul, sculpt a magnum opus rare,
A virtuoso of skills, crafting existence beyond compare,
Il miglior fabbro, the sovereign creator of temporal rhyme,
A craftsman of epochs, defying the limits of time.
Yet, amidst this transformative symphony that you undertake,
Inscribe within your essence the wisdom that you'll make,
Forgo the fervor of scripture's quill, the "Damn Divine Book" refrain,
Let life's alchemy be your guide, the eternal truths to gain.
***
Read the poem in a simple form
“This is my recent regret to an Indian Zoroastrian Lady who had sold , for her son’s journey, her only prayers' book ; the rarest papyrus of the Zoroastrian cult in the universe. Ironically, however ,in the bootleggers’ language, every now and then, I tell her son . ‘Alas, we are the real heir of Zoroaster, you should have told me, man. ’”
When swarming locusts digest your cult
Gracefully rip up your cocoon,
You have no maritime command,
And rocks are never like waters,
Truly, no one would stand by you
No more hide in the ancestors' caves.
Set a sail down the towering mountains ,
To the pastures, where your folk shall dwell,
Don't hold back or
hide your diamond face in the mountains,
And never work on Kings’ horses again,
Play the longest game of the chest,
Learn the trade of silk yarn-ing- fabric knitting ,
Or under Hephaestus, (If you are angry at Xenophon, remember he was the worst student of Socrates.)
Acquire skills in arts and metal smith-ing,
To forge out of the gold of your tumbledown soul,
the best craftsman of all time ;
When swarming locusts digest your cult
Gracefully rip up your cocoon,
You have no maritime command,
And rocks are never like waters,
Truly, no one would stand by you
No more hide in the ancestors' caves.
Set a sail down the towering mountains ,
To the pastures, where your folk shall dwell,
Don't hold back or
hide your diamond face in the mountains,
And never work on Kings’ horses again,
Play the longest game of the chest,
Learn the trade of silk yarn-ing- fabric knitting ,
Or under Hephaestus, (If you are angry at Xenophon, remember he was the worst student of Socrates.)
Acquire skills in arts and metal smith-ing,
To forge out of the gold of your tumbledown soul,
the best craftsman of all time ;
il miglior fabbro*.
But learn not to write any Damn Divine Book.
*Dante via T. S. Eliot.
But learn not to write any Damn Divine Book.
*Dante via T. S. Eliot.
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