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Fereydun Moshiri was born in August 1927 in the capital city of Tehran, Iran. From an early age, Moshiri was attracted to the arts, especially literature. By 1946, when he lost both his parents, he was already a poet. His elegy on the death of his father, although traditional in the main, is redolent with portents of innovations yet to come. In the same year (1946), Moshiri joined the Ministry of Post and Telegraph, adding a new burden to his already full schedule of studies and creative work. "Farda-i Ma," a journal that dealt with the literature and politics of the time, not only promoted Moshiri's poetic works but allowed the young poet to shine at the side of such great literary personalities as Mohammad Hussein Shahriyar and Fereydun Tavallali.
Moshiri married a fellow student, Eghbal Akhavan, studying painting at Tehran University, in 1954. They have two children, Bahaar and Babak,.
Before he was a poet, Fereydun Moshiri was a journalist. This profession, which he entered at the age of fifteen, acquainted him with such influential figures as Dehkhoda, Pourdavoud, and Mo'in. In fact, it was interviewing these major figures of Persian literature that enabled him to, by 1956, publish his first volume of poetry entitled "Teshnai Tufan" (Thirsting for the Storm).
In style, Moshiri bridges the gap between traditional Persian poetry where all the bayts must be of equal strength and length and New Poetry that emphasizes content at the expense of a rigid form. In this he compares quite favorably with his master Nima Yushij who in the course of his gradual transition from the traditional school established a totally new trend in Persian poetry. Moshiri, however, in certain cases, stands aloof. He refuses sensationalism by approaching difficult themes with a particular sense of dignity. In this way he retains the color and comfort that has been the hallmark of traditional Persian poetry while adding the vibrancy and conviction that is required by modern trends. It is this combination that imparts humanity to Moshiri's poetry and, as is evident from his most cited piece, "The Alley," it is this same combination that makes his poetry acceptable to a larger audience.
Moshiri's published works include "Gunahi Darya" (The Fault of the Sea, 1957), "Nayafteh" (Undiscovered, 1958), and "Abr" (Cloud, 1960). Moshiri's poetic works also appear in various collections, including "Parvaz Ba Khorshid" (Flying Alongside the Sun, 1970), "Bahar ra Bovar Kon (Have Faith in the Spring Season, 1978), "Ah Baran" (Oh, the Rain, 1988), and his last published work, "Ta Subhi Tobnaki Ahura'i" (Until the Bright Ahuric Dawn, 2001). In October 1997, Moshiri read many of his best poems at a gathering at the University of California, Berkeley.
Fereydun Moshiri died October 24, 2000, in "Tehran-Clinic" Hospital of cancer. He was seventy-four years old.
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The Alley
by Fereydun Moshiri (1927-2000) translated
Copyright, Bashiri 2001 |
| Click Here to view the Farsi version |
Without you
On a moonlit night,
My thoughts aflight,
I visited that alley again.
My body,
transformed into eyes,
Craved to actualize,
Another meeting with you, in vain.
Sweet anticipation,
Of love's rejuvenation,
Overflowed
My mortal cup.
In that sacred locality
Outside all reality,
The crazed lover with me
Caught up.
Thorns of your being blossomed,
In every recess of my soul;
Recollections of your laughter,
Echoed from pole to pole.
The perfume of lost memories,
Permeated the whole;
As I recalled that night,
The alley,
The realm of silences,
The brook,
And the glance I took.
Your black eyes,
Full of mystery,
Full of the elixir of life,
Enchanted me. What magic, what strife!
The sky was clear,
The night calm,
Luck happy,
Time tame.
Moonbeams poured into every nook,
Lighting up the branches in the brook.
And the night
And the fields
And the flowers,
And the rocks that hasty day forsook.
I recall you say, "Avoid this love.
Heed the current,
The mirror of transient life.
"Today my looks,
Whose tomorrow,
Would please you most, my dove?
"Forget me." You said.
"Leave this town a while,
Preserve that God-given smile."
But,
"Avoid your love, I shall not," I said.
"I will not, till dead."
"The instant my heart--my love partridge,
Lit at your roof,
You threw stones to force me leave,
But I did not. Neither did I grieve.
"You are the hunter," I said. "I the game,
Forcing my way into your trap
To make me tame.
"I shall not abandon you
I will not go away,
Not until you do the same."
Droplets oozed down a branch.
With a bitter groan,
The bird of night took to flight.
Tears gathered in your eyes,
The moon's laugher at my plight.
Reminding me of the response I never received.
Sadness engulfed me,
I persisted.
I did not leave.
That night,
The next night,
All my nights,
Joined the darkness that only nights perceived.
You no longer recalled,
The heart-broken lover you had.
You never walked,
Down that alley,
That alley so sad.
Only if you knew,
The distress I went through,
Walking down that alley,
Without you.
The Alley
Fereydoon Moshiri – "Flying With The Sun"
Translated by Faranak Moshiri
Copyright, Faranak Moshiri, 1997
On a moonlit night, once again
Through the alley, I wandered, without you.
My body, an eye gazing in search of you.
My soul, a cup teeming with anticipation
Of seeing you,
Now, I became the mad lover, anew!
Deep in my soul's treasure-chest,
A flower, your memory, gleaming.
The garden of a thousand memories, smiling.
The scent of a thousand memories, beaming.
That night, I recalled,
Through the alley, we wandered, side by side.
Wings wide-open, in cherished solitude, soaring.
For a time, by the brook, resting.
You, all the world's secrets in your black eyes,
I, by your glances, mesmerized.
Clear skies, quiet night,
Faith smiling, time tame.
Moonlight, grapes pouring down into the water.
Tree branches, fingers reaching up to the moon.
The night, the meadow, flowers and rocks,
Silently charmed by the nightingale's song.
Your words of warning, I recalled,
Avoid this love!
Behold this brook for a while!
Water mirrors timid love.
Today, you care for a glance of your lover,
But, tomorrow, your heart will belong to another.
Leave this town,
Forget this love.
How would I avoid this love,
I do not know how, I said.
How would I leave your side,
I can not now, nor ever, I said.
That first day, my heart became a bird of desire.
Like a dove, I perched on your roof,
Rocks, you cast at me,
I did not fly away.
I did not fall apart.
A prairie deer am I, you the hunter.
Round your traps I wander and wander,
For to be captured by you, to surrender.
How would I avoid this love, I do not know how, I said.
How would I leave your side,
I can not now, nor ever, I said.
From a branch, a teardrop, falling.
A bitter moan, an owl, flying.
Tears in your eyes, gleaming.
Moon, at your love, beaming.
You fell silent, I recall.
Covered by a blanket of gloom,
I did not fly away.
I did not fall apart.
Many a night have passed in melancholy darkness.
You have abandoned your tormented lover.
You would not set foot in that alley again.
Oh, but how, but how,
Through the alley, I wandered, without you.