A Poem for the Fallen Classmates

I am not generally into poetry but occasionally it does move me, and this footage below recited beautifully by this beautiful Iranian girl on the occasion of the new academic year is one of those rare occasions that one can not remain untouched. We are a nation rich in poetry sadly because so often we have had to resort to it in order to express our feelings under the shadow of dictators. I have done my best to translate it but I fear I may not have done a good job, in which case I hope the genuine feelings of this girl when she describes her generation robbed of happiness and the pain and sorrow felt for the fallen classmates as well as the reactions by the admiring audience compensate for it.




Its raining and autumn is the season,
The sky is spilling with resentment
Its as if the clouds are made to prostrate onto the earth
after the burning received by the summer's branding
The air of school has the scent of the alphabets
and the ringing of the morning bell is sharp and harsh
The punishment of unapproved laughters
and petty fun and amusements
is the loss of our teenage years and
the onslaught of non stop accusations
It is the first day of the school year
and I am reminiscent of the unforgettable memories
of the empty classroom that once held you and I
and the many faded flowers that sat behind these desks
Its autumn and its raining within me
I am a prisoner of my own rage
What a beautiful tomorrow we had dreamed of
and instead how our plans were all destroyed
What an age, what a period of transformation we had envisaged
We had longed for a sign for so long
You and I were of the generation that was never allowed to fly
For we were the captives of the open claws
The very ones that murdered you in front of my own eyes
with its sharp barbs
[applause]
and destroyed all our hopes and aspirations
and separated our hands of friendship from each other

You drank the poisoned chalice
and suddenly were removed from my side
I swear to every drop of the motherly tears
to those immortal thoughts
to every drop of love's blood
to those bravehearts in captivity now
that my heart was torn into one hundred pieces
that from your sorrow my heart received one hundred creases

Tell me though, is there happiness in the place you have gone to?
On the other side of life where you are
have you tasted freedom at last?
Do you remember the teenage years?
Is the love for the motherland still in your head?
[loud applause by the audience]

Tell me in the place you have gone to, are there no more weeds?
Is the axe not the predetermined destiny of the Green trees?
Is there no one there that insults your intelligence ?
Does your pride not get raped where you are now?
[laud applause]
Is there any news of unmarked graves over there?
Do you still hear the cries of mothers there?

Sing with me my co-generation who feels my pains
Sing my song with regret and rue
Its raining and autumn is the season,
The sky is crying rage from this injustice
It is I and a desk which feels lonely without you
and the flowers who have faded in the classroom