In memory of Golchin Gilani (Golchin _e_ Gilani)
Before I translate the following poem, I need to talk some about the poet.
Sometimes, it happens to all of us that we know somebody or something and feel close to him. However, we might have nothing special to say if we are asked to talk about him/it. We know that we know this person, but we cannot explain him or his work. We have just accepted to know him just through his name or a couple of his works. A necessity or curiosity to know him deeper is not awakened in our mind.
Golchin_e_ Gilani was one those modern Persian poets who introduced himself to the public many decades ago through several great works. However, it’s a pity that the majority of the Iranians do not even remember his real name and most of his works. Most probably, you would hear ‘I don’t know’ if you asked your Iranian friends to read you a single poem from Golchin_e_ Gilani. However, you will find them surprised and accompanying you whenever you start to read them the first two lines of the following poem. That is to say, you cannot find a single Iranian who is not able to recite you some lines of the following poem. I can say that this poem could become more famous than the poet himself could, although his pen name is well-known to almost all Iranians. Probably, it has its own reasons.
The following poem was (and maybe is) in our Persian literature book of our primary schools. This poem is written for children. I can still remember the beautiful paintings of the rain and the little boy who was jumping among the trees with his hands up in the rain. The poem along with the picture was so influential that after some decades I am still able to write the poem for you out of my memory. However, it is possible that I have missed some lines for which I feel deeply sorry.
Geographically speaking, Golchin Gilani comes from the north of Iran. There are two provinces in the north of Iran, Gilan and Mazandaran. Both are located between the Caspian Sea in the north and the high Alborz mountains in the south. These two provinces are green and rainy. Mazandaran is the province from where Nima introduced himself to the world, whom you almost know.
Golchin comes from Gilan. I am explaining all this because the scenario created in the following poem cannot be translated as it is in the original language. So, I hope this explanation will come to help my translation!
It usually rains in the north. Most rural houses are built on separate lands, away from each other, and have got the roofs that are different from the rest of the country. The roofs are not flat. Instead, they have some thirty to forty five degree angles from the center to the edges. They are covered with a kind of metal surface and most of the old-fashioned ones have no spouts. Most old houses have a big front terrace or balcony that covers almost half of the front part of the house. When it rains, you can sit in the terrace and listen to the beautiful and comforting symphony of the rain on the metal roofs. It has considerably different perspective and scenario. You can enjoy the real melody of the nature (the rain).
The rain BY: Golchin_e_ Gilani (Gulchin_e_ Guilani)
Once again, the rain
With rhythmic melody
With countless pouring diamonds
Hits the roof of my house
The rainy day reminds me of
An old day hike, sweet and pleasant,
In the jungles of Gilan when
I was a ten-year-old kid
Glad and blissful
Light and frivolous
Restless and energetic
With two childish legs
I would run like a gazelle
I would spring over the springs
I would play away from the house
The lightening like a sharp sword
Would cut apart the clouds
The mad thunder, roaring,
Would punch the clouds
Listen to me my little kid
To the man of tomorrow
The life, either dark or bright,
Is beautiful, beautiful, beautiful