Podcast: Poems of Iran’s working poet Sabir Haka – fear of death, borders, God and friends …

Friends, in today’s News18 Hindi podcast, the poet whose poet I have come to share poems with you, Pooja Prasad, is a laborer. Yes, the same laborer who works to build the building from mud-mortar, lime, but the poet Geet Chaturvedi said, ‘This laborer is a wonderful combination of words and cement’. Yes, we are talking about Sabeer Haka. Sabir Haka was born in Iran’s Karamanshah in 1986 and is now believed to live in Tehran. The songs I am going to share with you have been translated into Hindi by Chaturvedi.

When I talked to him about Sabir, he said, ‘Just as lightning flashes, so are his poems. Sabir is a restless soul … awake all night, lying between hundreds of books. ‘

Let’s hear some of his poems today …

Fear of death

I trust you
That it is wrong to lie
It is wrong to disturb someone

I accepted this thing
That death is also a part of life

Even after this i’m scared of death
I am afraid of being a laborer even in other world.

Have you ever seen mulberry,
On the ground where it falls
The stain of its red juice falls.

More than fall
Nothing painful.

How many workers have i seen
Falling from the buildings,
Falling into a mulberry.

When i die
Take all my favorite books with me
Fill my grave
From the pictures of the people I loved.
There will be no place in my new house
For fear of the future.

I’ll be lying down. I will smoke
And will cry remembering all the women
Whom I wanted to hug.

Even in the midst of all these joys
One fear remains:
That one day, dawn, dawn,
Someone will wake me up by shrugging my shoulders and will say –
‘Abe, wake up, Sabir, you have to go to work.’

Career choice
I could never be an ordinary bank employee
Not even a food salesman
Not even the head of a party
Neither taxi driver
Not even a marketing person involved in publicity

That’s all i wanted
That standing on the highest point of the city
See the woman’s house among the chunky buildings below
With whom i love
That’s why I became a damkam laborer.

Like the shroud envelops the corpse
Ice also covers a lot of things.
Covers the skeletons of the buildings
Makes trees, graves white
And it’s only snow that
Can also whiten the borders.

(God) is also a laborer
Of course, he will also be a welder of welders.

In the evening light
His eyes are red like coals,

Night on his shirt
Holes are holes.

I am not a friend of (god)
There is only one reason
Which has its roots in a very old past:
When our family of six
Lived in a cramped room

And (God) had a very big house
In which he lived alone

In an interview, Sabir says, ‘I am tired. So tired I am already tired before I am born. My ‘mother’ used to work as a laborer in my womb, I have been a laborer ever since. I can feel the tiredness of my ‘mother’. His fatigue is still in my body.

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