NIZAMI (en anglais)

ENGLISH :

Nizami

(Ode)

‘Whether the whole of astronomy,

Or the fine detail of every science,

I have learned them and on

Every page sought their mysteries’

Nizami

I

Nizami, Nizami,

My Friend Nizami, you were both

Questioner and seeker!

You who practised poetry

As a supreme exercise in sweet liberty,

You whose soul explored

With the flames of a seductive fervour

The arduous meanders of life.

You, the great calligrapher of feelings,

The master of sunny and affectionate tenderness,

The prince of cheerful and mocking sadness!

II

How your trusting soul,

Alert, sensible, calm and pleasing in its grace

Makes my soul tremble on those evenings

When the armies of stars and cicadas

Make the native majesty of the air resound

And the breast of the impalpable nights beat faster.

How your fired lines,

Sacred guardians of time, my honourable Prince,

Make me shudder in the face of eternity

And force my heart to beat on a par with the universe.

Your words, celestial pictograms,

Used to the ink of mists,

Strive to run on the backward side of time.

III

Your immortal books,

Wells of mysteries,

Surround my sleep

With their ecstatic gleam:

Makhzan al-Asrar, Khosrow o Shirin,
Leily o Majnoun
Haft Paykar, Eskandar-Nameh !…

You who form part

Of the immense family tree

Of the noblest poetry,

You, the visionary branch

Of the eternal Word,

Soul which has so well become flesh by singing

The modulation of colours!

IV

Words dense as fleshy wine

And sweet as the great Sascicala wine!

A true quintessence of taste.

Exaltation with the most radical hope

Which in its magnificence makes nothing of the mourning in things!

My friend,

Faithful companion of men and angels

How my heart cherishes you!...

V

No, you had no love for the sad words

Which scratch the crystal of the air,

That is why both water and moon

Love to recite your poems.

Quiet paths,

Palpable tenderness,

Trees and mountains

Which never cease to shelter wandering souls!

Celestial notes of your lines

Which constantly complement one another,

Grow richer,

Overlap!...

VI

Nizami, my Friend,

You who, like a delighted child,

Used to love the dust of roads,

Crusts of bread soaked in warm water,

The ordinary good mornings of passers-by,

The greetings of sparrows,

A letter from a friend,

Fine rain,

A rescued hedgehog,

The old songs of your melodious country

And its gentle rain redolent with fruit!...

I love you, my Friend,

You who knew how to caress souls with as much certainty

As a hand that caresses

The hair of a sleeping woman!

VII

Solitude was your great old house,

The dwelling made of hyacinth wreaths you joked about!...

A life with a childhood as beautiful as a flight of doves,

Words with the weight of a butterfly,

The breath of breezes with no thickness,

That’s you entirely, my Friend!

VIII

Yes, Nizami, you loved

The lace of glances,

The efflorescence of the air,

The buds of the heart

Laughter with the fragrance of eucalyptus,

Luxurious lips

Like bottles of very expensive perfume

In the midst of hours

Stirred by the song of insects.

With your heart which gave

Directly onto the Milky Way,

Onto the veils of the dawn sailing in the sky,

Onto the marbled grasslands of magic Azerbaijan.

IX

The dense red tablecloths,

The embroidered pillows,

The singing oak doors,

The whole world moved

Inside your thoughts!

Ah, my Friend Nizami,

Alas, every hierarchy falls

In the face of Beauty and Death!

Memoria quoque ipsam cum voce
Perdidissemus si tam in nostra potestate
Esset oblivisci quam tacere

X

Your books are as rich

As consecration wines

Aromatic, fruity, young, charming!

Yes, my Friend,

Whoever dies in the certainty of living in God

Does not die!

You who knew absolute distance,

The purity of the remote!

You who loved the clamour

Of the little flowers of the fields

Which delight the eyes

And the autumn leaves which spin

Around the trunk of the tree

Heavy with a bitter, nostalgic, desolated ending.

XI

You who knew the sadness in the taste of ripe fruit,

The alternation of elation and torment

Under the sparkling whiteness of snow.

You who shouted into wells

Secrets too heavy to bear,

Seeing the heart of every thing,

Understanding that everything is woven with friendly forces,

That the true unity of the world

Is the Poem not the book.

XII

Now the night rests

Its mauve feet with infinite refinement

On the vegetable domes of the trees

And penetrates the gaps in the forest walls.

Your soul becomes  absorbed in itself and,

Brushed by the music of the ether,

Merges with the soul of the Universe

Heart racing,

Overwhelmed by its own brilliance.

Traduit en anglais par Norton Hodges