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Showing posts with label Drunken. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Drunken. Show all posts

She is the Light of Daddy's House

Like all loving fathers, he wants to pass on the wisdom of his experience to his little girl, who he calls "The Light of Dad's House". He acknowledges how dear she is to him and how much he has spoiled him. But he continues to describe her place in the world in a way that reflects his Persian culture.

In your little world,
There is you and your dolls.
They being your toys.

You being the toy of the world.

Of course, she will grow up and experience both joy and sorrow, he says. But he urges that for as long she is not going to make sense out of the world, she should sleep tight. As lullabies go, this father is certainly sending mixed messages about life.; though you might say he is just being very realistic. Still, he fully expects her to be disappointed by life.

A day will come when Dad
Will sit at home all alone.
That will be the time that you drunkenly
Will laugh at me and this world.


From Aghili's "Light of Dad's House" (Cheragh-e-Khoone Baba"

Closer To Your Body Than Even Your Shirt

The more he watches her dance at the party, the more he wants her. And he wants her bad.

Like the flowers in the wind
Like the wind among the leaves
Like the leaves in the wind

Keep dancing your body.
A spring of light wouldn't be like this.
Light wouldn't be like this.
What is that is glittering
In that dancing of yours?

Watching all of this, he is going into a frenzy. He wants her closer to him than he can imagine it:

As close as your lips are to your mouth
As close as your body is to your shirt
Even as close as light to your body,
I want you even closer.
Still closer.

The reason for his is desire is no mystery at all. That's how nature works.

If the flower desires its scent,
If the eye desires the light,
I desire you even more.
I swear to God, I desire you even more.

As she is dancing, he notices more than just her body:

Your drunken eyes,
As though they are the wine of Shiraz
Your Face, like the flower,
Is brimming with dew
What shall I say about your lips?
My words cannot suffice.


From Sadegh Nojouki's "Commotion" (Veleleh)