Grains of Sand Through Open Fingers

Q.Just some simple questions...
A.yup, normal stuff!
Q.How is it here?
A.you mean being alive?
Q.No, i mean being here! this institute!
A.awful, i assume if it wasn't my daughter i had never came
Q.you're married?
A.No.
Q.How old is your daughter?
A.She's awesome, so intelligent, so cute, pitiful thing
Q.why?
A.Too young her age to bear this load of shit
Q.How do you mean? how do you define this burden?
A.You know what i mean!Kids with high IQ are destined to suffer more, deeper and longer. As soon as they realize the earth and their standpoint, hell of an evolution
Q.Ah, evolution, that was interesting.
A.Big word for my mouth?
Q.Not at all, After all i know where you've came from...
A.Seems you've gone through my trash!
Q.I'd like to know you better, i'm here to help...
A.OK,OK
Q.What's your opinion about Darwin's theory of evolution?
A.Yes, i found it quite logical: you'll survive i'll die
Q.Pardon?Why you and why me?
A.Cuz i epitomize all the weak hinges of nature.
Q....And i epitomize all the powerful?
A.The authority, the control, the questioning
Q.That's exciting, you know personally i'd rather stay silent and listen to others speaking.
A.To other's misery?
Q.Mysteries i call, everyone is a pack of unknown features in my opinion
A.Sounds you've got an angle!(smiles)
Q.That's how it is.
A.I understand.
Q.Do you dream these days?
A.Frequently.
Q.Like what?Cab you describe them?
A.Usual stuff.
Q.Like everyday affairs? Your job? Office?
A.Nope, usual stuff like a mother, like a cool breeze of compassion, Dreams have remained a clean part of my diary. very basic things.
Q.I see. Do you like watching tv?
A.(yawns)
Q.mmm...How do you prefer to finish this conversation?
A.How about a poem?
Q.Wow, awesome!
A.How about this one:
"I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand-
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep- while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?  "
Q.Till next sunday.




pedram, Marh 2012
poem : Edgar Allan Poe

Evening Star

'Twas noontide of summer,

And mid-time of night;

And stars, in their orbits,

Shone pale, thro' the light

Of the brighter, cold moon,

'Mid planets her slaves,

Herself in the Heavens,

Her beam on the waves.

I gazed awhile

On her cold smile;

Too cold- too cold for me-

There pass'd, as a shroud,

A fleecy cloud,

And I turned away to thee,

Proud Evening Star,

In thy glory afar,

And dearer thy beam shall be;

For joy to my heart

Is the proud part

Thou bearest in Heaven at night,

And more I admire

Thy distant fire,

Than that colder, lowly light. 

Edgar Allan Poe

Annabel Lee

It was many and many a year ago,
In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
By the name of Annabel Lee;
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
Than to love and be loved by me.


I was a child and she was a child,
In this kingdom by the sea;
But we loved with a love that was more than love-
I and my Annabel Lee;
With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven
Coveted her and me.


And this was the reason that, long ago,
In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling
My beautiful Annabel Lee;
So that her highborn kinsman came
And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulchre
In this kingdom by the sea.


The angels, not half so happy in heaven,
Went envying her and me-
Yes!- that was the reason (as all men know,
In this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out of the cloud by night,
Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.


But our love it was stronger by far than the love
Of those who were older than we-
Of many far wiser than we-
And neither the angels in heaven above,
Nor the demons down under the sea,
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee.


For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And the stars never rise but I feel the bright eyes
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling- my darling- my life and my bride,
In the sepulchre there by the sea,
In her tomb by the sounding sea.


Edgar Allan Poe

Not Alone

Umm,let's say it's ridiculous goodreads is filtered here so i decided to update the latest developments in my bookshelves here ! i added 6 books to my to-read shelf : 4 of them are persian translations of course:
1- The Age of Empire (1875 - 1914 ) : written by Eric Hobsbawm translated by Nahid Foroughan Akhtaran Publication
2-Flush : by Virginia Woolf, Oxford University Press
3- 18 Best Stories by Edgar Allan Poe  edited by Vincent Price and Chandler Brossard, Published by Dell Publishing
4-De la liberte' chez les Modernes:written by Benjamin Constant translated by Abdolvahhab Ahmadi ,Agah Publishing House
5-Hot Water Music by Charles Bukowski,translated by Bahman Kiarostami,Mahriz Publications
6-Budenbrooks written by Thomas Mann ,translated by Ali Asghar Haddad,Maahi Publications

The Bells

I Hear the sledges with the bells- Silver bells! What a world of merriment their melody foretells! How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle, In the icy air of night! While the stars that oversprinkle All the heavens, seem to twinkle With a crystalline delight; Keeping time, time, time, In a sort of Runic rhyme, To the tintinnabulation that so musically wells From the bells, bells, bells, bells, Bells, bells, bells- From the jingling and the tinkling of the bells. II Hear the mellow wedding bells, Golden bells! What a world of happiness their harmony foretells! Through the balmy air of night How they ring out their delight! From the molten-golden notes, And an in tune, What a liquid ditty floats To the turtle-dove that listens, while she gloats On the moon! Oh, from out the sounding cells, What a gush of euphony voluminously wells! How it swells! How it dwells On the Future! how it tells Of the rapture that impels To the swinging and the ringing Of the bells, bells, bells, Of the bells, bells, bells,bells, Bells, bells, bells- To the rhyming and the chiming of the bells! III Hear the loud alarum bells- Brazen bells! What a tale of terror, now, their turbulency tells! In the startled ear of night How they scream out their affright! Too much horrified to speak, They can only shriek, shriek, Out of tune, In a clamorous appealing to the mercy of the fire, In a mad expostulation with the deaf and frantic fire, Leaping higher, higher, higher, With a desperate desire, And a resolute endeavor, Now- now to sit or never, By the side of the pale-faced moon. Oh, the bells, bells, bells! What a tale their terror tells Of Despair! How they clang, and clash, and roar! What a horror they outpour On the bosom of the palpitating air! Yet the ear it fully knows, By the twanging, And the clanging, How the danger ebbs and flows: Yet the ear distinctly tells, In the jangling, And the wrangling, How the danger sinks and swells, By the sinking or the swelling in the anger of the bells- Of the bells- Of the bells, bells, bells,bells, Bells, bells, bells- In the clamor and the clangor of the bells! IV Hear the tolling of the bells- Iron Bells! What a world of solemn thought their monody compels! In the silence of the night, How we shiver with affright At the melancholy menace of their tone! For every sound that floats From the rust within their throats Is a groan. And the people- ah, the people- They that dwell up in the steeple, All Alone And who, tolling, tolling, tolling, In that muffled monotone, Feel a glory in so rolling On the human heart a stone- They are neither man nor woman- They are neither brute nor human- They are Ghouls: And their king it is who tolls; And he rolls, rolls, rolls, Rolls A paean from the bells! And his merry bosom swells With the paean of the bells! And he dances, and he yells; Keeping time, time, time, In a sort of Runic rhyme, To the paean of the bells- Of the bells: Keeping time, time, time, In a sort of Runic rhyme, To the throbbing of the bells- Of the bells, bells, bells- To the sobbing of the bells; Keeping time, time, time, As he knells, knells, knells, In a happy Runic rhyme, To the rolling of the bells- Of the bells, bells, bells: To the tolling of the bells, Of the bells, bells, bells, bells- Bells, bells, bells- To the moaning and the groaning of the bells. by:Edgar Allan Poe