It is currently Thu Aug 27, 2026 11:14 am
Moderator: surfer
leroysghost wrote:
Forugh Farrokhzad - The House is Black (1963)
I said, if I had wings of a dove I would fly away and be at rest.
I would go far away and take refuge in the desert.
I would hasten my escape from the windy storm and tempest.
For I have seen misery and wickedness on Earth.
The Universe is pregnant with inertia
and has given birth to time.
Where would I escape from your face?
And where would I go from your pressence?
If I hang on to the wings of the morning breeze
and reside in the deep of the sea,
your hand will still weigh on me.
You have made me drunk with indecision.
How awesome are your deeds!
How awesome are your deeds!
I speak of the bitterness of my soul.
I speak of the bitterness of my soul.
When I was silent my life was rotting
from my silent screams all day long.
Remember that my life is wind.
I have become the pelican of the desert,
the owl of the ruins,
and like a sparrow I am sitting alone on the roof.
I am poured out like water
(as those who have long been dead).
On my eyelids is the shadow of death.
On my eyelids is the shadow of death.
Leave me, leave me, for my days are but a dream.
Leave me before I set out for the land of no return.
The land of infinite darkness.
--------------
O God, don’t entrust the life of your dove to the wild beast.
O God, remember that my life is wind
and you have given me a time of idleness,
and around me a song of happiness,
the sound of the windmill,
and the brightness of the light have vanished.
Lucky are those who are harvesting now,
and their hands are picking sheaves of wheat.
Let’s listen to the soul who sings in the remote desert.
The one who sighs and stretches his hands out saying,
"Alas, my wounds have numbed my spirit".
O, the time-forgotten one,
dressing yourself in red, and wearing golden ornaments,
anointing your eyes with kohl,
remember you have made yourself beautiful in vain,
for a song in the remote desert,
and your friends who have denigrated you.
--------------
Alas, for the day is fading, the evening shadows are stretching.
Our being, like a cage full of birds,
is filled with moans of captivity.
And none among us knows how long he will last.
The harvest season passed, the summer season will come to an end,
and we did not find deliverance.
Like doves we cry for justice…
and there is none.
We wait for light
and darkness reigns.
I warmly second And Life Goes On.... I can't really disagree about his 2000's films since I have not seen much but you can't pass on Ten.leroysghost wrote:i like Kiarostami a lot when he's not coasting on the art-house circuit (A Taste Of Cherry, most of his 2000's stuff). And Life Goes On... is probably my favorite, closely followed by Close-Up and The Wind Will Carry Us.
), 'Smell of Jasmine, Fragrance of Camphour' and, although made by an ex-pat, Amin Naderi's 'Marathon'Yes, sorry, I should've come back to the thread with some thoughts. Thanks for the prompt. Some brief thoughts.trzyuem wrote:I was wondering if you had watched any of this and if yes, what are your opinions? (I contributed earlier to this thread as "3um").
After reading this I had realized I was so moved by the story that I didn't care for acting so much.Gaendaal wrote: The Circle - Good in parts. I think it was let down by the trite need to bring the 'circle' to a closure at the end along with some not so good acting but a very interesting insight into female experience in Iran.
So would you say that it's something like an "atmosphere" you like about this (and/or are looking for)? If yes, then maybe you should try Color of Paradise by Majid Majidi.Gaendaal wrote: The Wind Will Carry Us - I liked this a lot, although I'm not sure why. Ghostly, in a lot of ways, with strange narrative elements intertwined. Again, a Beckett-like repetition but employed in a much easier way. Beautifully photgraphed.
