People are very worried about what’s happening in Iran. And when you talk to them you get the impression that a violent clash is really taking place between two sides of the population - and not only between the people and the regime… A great many people fervently support this Islamic regime. When you see the crowds queuing to pray in the Imamzadeh, when you see how many people celebrate Ashourah… They say 20 million pilgrims visited Mashhad last year. That’s more than Mecca receives! In the north western city of Tabriz, as rich and developed as Teheran, you get the impression that, as in Turkey, part of the population is living in another world, another culture almost…
So we can only hope the protesters won’t get discouraged and will carry on resisting, insisting, persisting… A short poem by Shamlu, written after the Iranian revolution had descended into Islamist madness.

Dans cette impasse
Ils reniflent ton haleine
Pour voir si tu as dit "Je t'aime"
Ils reniflent ton coeur
Ces temps sont si étranges, ma chérie...
Et ils flagellent l'amour au milieu de la rue
Nous ferions mieux de cacher l'amour dans le placard...
Dans cette impasse tordue,
dans ce froid qui se tord,
ils nourrissent le feu
avec le bois des chants et de la poésie
Ne risque pas une pensée
Ces temps sont si étranges, ma chérie...
Celui qui frappe à ta porte à minuit
Vient pour tuer la lumière.
Nous ferions mieux de cacher la lumière dans le placard...
Désormais les bouchers
sont à chaque coin de rue
Avec des gourdins et des hachoirs pleins de sang
Ces temps sont si étranges, ma chérie...
Et ils excisent les sourires de nos lèvres
les chansons de nos bouches
Nous ferions mieux de cacher la joie dans le placard...
Ils grillent des canarissur des feux de lilas et de jasmin
Ces temps sont si étranges, ma chérie...
Satan, saoul de sa victoire
Célèbre nos funérailles
Nous ferions mieux de cacher Dieu dans le placard...
Ahmad Shamlu (1980)

In this dead- end
They sniff your breath
To see if you said “I love you”
They sniff your heart
In these strange times, my darling…
And if love is flogged in the street
We would be better off hiding it on a placard…
In this twisted blind alley,
this twisted cold,
they keep the fire burning
with the wood of songs and poetry
Do not risk a thought,
In these strange times, my darling…
The knocking on your door at midnight
is to snuff out your light.
We’d be better off hiding the light on a placard…
The butchers by now
are on every street corner
with bloodstained clubs and choppers
In these strange times, my darling…
And they cut the smile off our lips
the songs from our mouths
We’d be better off hiding joy on a placard…
Canaries are grilled on lilac and jasmine fires
These are times so strange, my darling…
While drunk with victory Satan
celebrates our funeral
We’d be better off hiding God on a placard…
Ahmad Shamlu (1980), English translation by Rodney Stringer