Abbas Kiarostami is a well-known Irani/Persian movie director, screenplay & script
writer and been known for his soft realism cinema of Persian culture and people.
He is been known for his entirely different approach of composition and frame and
dealing with the story. A certain camera-angle, portrait-like images, developing a
whole movie in a car and long shots of the hills is one of his cinematic trademarks
following the themes of life, death, culture, art and existence. There is huge
naturalism in his art that portrays the apathy, guilt, anger, pride or shame.
Watching Abbas Kiarostami cinema is always a visual treat as it is much more
closer to your naked eyes and the cinema shows the meta about everything in
the picture very simplistically. The observation of his cinema frees you to dig
deeper in the state of mind of human like badi, thief in close-up or purdah-clad
woman in ten. Also, he invented the art of minimalism in his cinema. The lesser
resourced & fetishes in the production, non-professional actors are been deployed
in his projects. He utilized lesser cameras to capture the scene, a constant camera
angles which helps in less editing. it is always raw-felt and beautifully natural.\
Just like cinema, his poetry gives the similar touch. it goes deeper in the soul of
everything around us. His only book of poetry “The wolf laying in the wait”
which is originally written in Persian with translation in English is all about
minimalist poetry with great story-telling within themselves.
I have taken few poems from the book which I find delightful to read and feel.
Also, It should be shown to the world who are not much aware about this side
of Abbas Kiarostami as well.
A red dotted line on the white snow
wounded game
limping away.
***
A bird
sings in the middle of the night;
unfamiliar
even to the birds.
***
A scarecrow
hatless and coatless
in a cold winter night.
***
The glow of the harvest moon
upon the window
made the glass tremble.
***
A column of dust
escorts
an aspen leaf
to Seventh Heaven.
***
I walk barefoot
on burning sand.
I burn all over
in the stares of passers-by.
***
My shadow accompies me
now in front
now by my side
now following.
what a relief
are these cloudy days!
***
Today’s opportunity was lost
just like yesterday’s
what remains is
a record of the days.
***
In the wasteland of my solitude
single trees thrust up
by the thousand.
***
In your absence
I debate with myself.
We come to agreement
on everything
so easily.
***
In your absence
I converse with you,
when you are there
I converse with myself;
***
I lost
something I had found;
I found something
that had been lost.
***
My shirt is a flag of freedom
flurring on the clothesline;
light and liberated
from the body’s bondage.
***
In broad daylight
no-one recognizes
the glow-worm.
***
it is hard to believe
the reality of snow
in the height of summer.
***
Out of a thousand worms
only one glows
in the dark.
***
Who decided
that green mulberry leaves
would be food
for silk worms?
***
The colour green
turned yellow;
the weather
turned cold;
my thoughts
turned to death.
***
The labour union
at last
failed to recognize
the spider’s weaving labour.
***
How
can I sleep in peace
when Time does not stop for a second
even in sleep?
***
A boat
with no sail
a sea
with no wind
a sky
with no moon.
***
In the bird’s eyes
west is
where the sun sets
and east is
where the sun rises;
that’s it.
***
You won’t believe it but
I quench my thirst
by drinking from a mirage.
***
The sky
is mine;
the earth too;
that’s how rich I am.
***
When I returned to my birthplace
the quince tree
has stopped bearing fruit
and mulberries –
now you had to pay for them.
***
The full moon
reflected in water,
the water
contained in the bowl,
and the thirsty man
deep in sleep.
***
In the silence of the night
the lullaby of termites
robs me of sleep.
***
with ash
i make an idol
and I burn it once again
in fire.
***
You won’t believe this, but
I have suffered loss
from profit
and I have profited
from loss.
***
Half of me
is yours
the other half
is mine.
***
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