چاشنی Cinnamon

چاشنی

پریناز فهیمی
 
می خواهم دارچین باشم
با شکر فاطی شوم
وقت پیچیدنم در خمیر و تاب دادن لبه های شیرینی
بروم در چین های انگشتان مادربزرگ
الی دعاها و ذکرها قایم شوم
بمالم به لبه نوه ها
بوسه ای ناغافل را شیرین تر کنم
مورچه های قالی را آذوقه باشم
و چنان
در ذهن بچگی آب شوم
که تا سال ها شعر بپزم
با عطر نان قندی
مگر چاشنی چاره کنم دلتنگی های چاک چاکم را
به گرمی یقین دل قرص و کام شیرین
 
دی ۹۲ - لندن ۲۲
 

Cinnamon

I want to be cinnamon
to be mixed with sugar
when I am braided into dough and sprinkled on its edges
I hide in the lines of Grandmother’s fingers
folded in her prayers
rubbed onto grandchildren’s lips
to sweeten a careful kiss
to nourish the ants on the rug
and so
I might dissolve into the memory of childhood
and forever bake poems
with the scent of cinnamon
as if I could solve my heartache with spices
and steady it with sugar’s promise.
 

Seasoning

I want to be cinnamon
To be mixed with sugar
When twisted into dough and folded into the edges of pastry
To go into the wrinkles of grandmothers’ fingers
To hide between prayers and recitations
To rub onto the lips of grandchildren
To sweeten innocent kisses
To be food for the ants on the rug
Such that
I will be diluted into the memory of childhood
So that for years I will bake poems
Perfumed like sugar bread
So that with seasoning I may solve the bits and pieces of my homesicknesses With a warmth of which I am certain, a steady heart and a sweet taste
 

We translated this poem as part of the PTC’s 20th birthday showcase at the National Centre for Writing in Norwich – the first of five showcase weekends in 2024. The theme of the showcase weekend was ‘exile and arrival’ which prompted guest translator Elhum Shakerifar to choose this poem, suffused with longing for childhood, family and home. Elhum provided extensive notes on the poet and the language, which I’ll quote from now:

‘This poem is from Parinaz Fahimi’s posthumously published collection Poppies with Alef. Parinaz was a student in architecture at the university of SOAS in London, where she died of a brain tumour in 2016. She had always written poetry and wrote a lot more towards the end of her life; sadly she never saw her dream of being published come true in her lifetime. The collection was published in Iran some years later with high praise and an introduction by Ebrahim Golestan. In the context of a reflection on poetry and exile, I am happy that we have the opportunity to share and discuss Parinaz Fahimi’s work, and to bring her poetry into English, as it is in this country—far from home—that she took her last breaths.’

We had some wonderfully lively discussions about baking terms (what does it mean when we say ‘sweet bread’ and ‘pastry’ in English as compared to Persian?), capitalisation (Persian doesn’t have capital letters, so how should we capitalise and punctuate?) and the subjunctive mood (how possible is it that the speaker can solve their heartache?). We aimed to stay within the semantic field of baking, so ended up rejecting alternative comforting words like ‘cocooned’ and ‘swaddled’. We also intentionally chose to keep the terms vague enough so that people from a variety of culinary backgrounds might also be taken back to their childhoods with the Proustian smells in this delicious poem.

Helen Bowell – Poet-facilitator

Original Poem by

Parinaz Fahimi

Translated by

Elhum Shakerifar with The Poetry Translation Workshop Language

Persian

Country

Iran