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Nobody will walk on the forbidden fruit

WebPix-010-Lida-Shanehchiyan

May 1 -May 30, 2010
Saturday 12-6 pm, Sunday 12-5 pm
Tuesday – Friday 11am–6pm

Opening reception:
May 2nd, 2010, 2-6 pm


A Group Photography Exhibit By:

Ali Kamran
Kamelia Pezeshki
Afra Pourdad
Lida Shanehchiyan

CONTACT 2010

Facebook Event
www.nowtoronto.com
bbc.co.uk
Radio Zamaaneh
Radio Navay Iran

The Cold Season by Persian poet Forough Farrokhzad.

Let us believe in the beginning of the cold season.
It is me,
a lonely woman
at the doors of a cold season,
and discovery of the soiled soul of this Earth,
the sad despair of this Sky,
and the inability of my frozen hands.
Time passed,
Time passed and clock struk four times.
Today is the 21st of December
I know secrets of seasons
And I understand words of instants.
The redeemer is buried,
and the soil, this welcoming soil
is pointing to the salvation.
Time passed,
and clock struk four times.
Wind is blowing outside,
Wind is blowing outside,
And I am thinking about flowers mating;
and about blossoms on their frail, pale stems,
and about this ailing, drained instant.
A man is passing by the soaked trees,
And his blue veins' strings,
raise over his gorge,
like lifeless snakes.
And those stabbed words
are circulating in his ravaged mind:
“I greet you.”
And I am just thinking about flowers mating...
At the doors of a cold season,
in the mourning of mirrors,
with the entirety of this fading remembrance,
And in this loaded dusk by the consciousness of silence,
how could I ask him to stop?
Ask this man who goes
So patient,
So heavy,
So thrown,
How could I tell him that he is not alive,
that he was never alive.
Wind is blowing outside
And all lonely crows of isolation
are flowing  in the aged garden of boredom.
Oh, the ladder has such a short height!
They took the whole innocence of a heart,
to the castle of Captive  Mermaid
and now,
and now, how someone would dance?
And would pour her childhood locks in happy waters?
And now,
Nobody will walk on the forbidden fruit.


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