A Brief Note
on the Life and Works
of Ali Garmarudi


By
Iraj Bashiri
Copyright, Bashiri 2001  

Sayyid Ali Musavi Garmarudi, first of seven children, was born in the 1940's, in the "Chahor Mardan" of Qom to a family of scholars. His father, a teacher of Islamic theology from Alamut, paid special attention to his son's education. His mother is from Tonkobun. Although from Qom, the family is known as Garmarudi, recalling the family's roots in the beautiful village near Alamut on the Shahrud River. Some of the vocabulary in Garmarudi's poetry stem from the early years of his life when his family used to visit Garmarud and spend the summers there.

Garmarudi's formal higher education began in 1967 when he entered the Faculty of Law of Tehran University. His doctorate degree, however, is in Persian language and literature. His dissertation was on the life and works of Adib al-Mamolik-i Farahani. In 1970, he garnered the Yaghma literary prize for modern poetry or "she'r-i now." The poem that launched his career, a fairly long piece inspired by Nima, was entitled "Khastgah-i Nur." Jalal Al-i Ahmad, Simin Daneshvar, Tahereh Sattorzoda, and Ali Shari'ati are among authors and intellectuals to have shaped his thought.

In 1974, Garmarudi was arrested by the SAVAK and spent the next five years in various Iranian prisons, often experiencing torture. His "Sorud-i Ragbar" and the second edition of "Ubur" happened at this time.

Over the past thirty years, Garmarudi has published a considerable amount of materials, mostly poetry, on the literature and culture of Iran. Indeed, in certain circles, he is recognized as a major figure in the intellectual life of the country. The following list is indicative of the extent of Garmarudi's contribution to a better understanding of the social, cultural, and spiritual dynamics of contemporary Iranian society:

- "Ubur," 1978
- "Sorud-i Ragbar," 1979
- "Dar Fasl-i Murdan-i Surkh," 1979
- "Dar Saya-i Sar-i Nakhl-i Vilayat," 1980
- "Khalt-i Khun," 1985
- "Chaman-i Laleh," 1985
- "Baran-i Akhm," 1995
- "Ta-Nakuja," 1986

This latter is a volume consisting of sixty poems of Garmarudi selected by Ricardo Zipoli and published in Italian translation. Another similar selection of Garmarudi's poetry appears under the title of "Guzinai Shi'r-i Garmarudi." The volume with an impressive introduction was presented by Bahauddin Khurramshahi in 1997.

In these collections, Garmarudi, following the examples of Nima Yushij and Ahmad Shamlu, presents a full spectrum of both traditional -- stanzas, quatrains, sonnets, odes -- as well as new poetry (shi'ri now). However, it's neither fair nor correct to deny Garmarudi his own singular view of poetry. He is the poet who usually provides the last word in the sense that when other poets are satisfied with the expression of their views about a theme, Garmarudi joins in with a fresh view of the same. To him movement and lack of it, light and dark, and life and death are inseparable aspects of the same element. Yet, our human capacity to discriminate discerns a fine difference. And it is this fine line which does not escape Garmarud's keen vision of the dynamics of existence. In his poetry, therefore, we observe a reaction to the contradictory aspects of life that is unique. Furthermore, Garmarudi expresses this unique view in a most economic, didactic, and poignant manner. His "Epic of a Tree," translated below, is a telling example of artistic and iconoclastic approach to Persian poetry. In fact, scholars like Ahmad Mahdavi Damghani and poets like Amiri Firuzkuhi, Mahmud Munshi, and Mehrdad Avesta praise Garmarudi's creative genius for this very unique feature.

Garmarudi's language is simple, his style is fluid, and his imagery is realistic and expressive. He chooses his themes from amongst contemporary issues both in terms of disclosing secular values as well as of spiritual direction.

To understand Garmarudi's poetry, we cannot but proceed beyond form and examine the semantic matrixes that control the form. It is the freshness of Garmarudi's collage of meanings that imparts a special sense of concreteness to his verses.

Garmarudi has also published a noteworthy number of prose works. These include:

 

The Epic of a Tree
by
Ali Garmarudi
Translated by
Iraj Bashiri
Copyright 2001

 

Star, my mother,
Has been my only teacher;
She is distant,
Oft not seen by a sole creature,
Enormous is she, larger than many suns,
"Unique" is, indeed, her distinctive feature.

She provided sufficient light,
For my poorly equipped sight;
As for herself,
Afar sat she;
Viewing creation like a tree,
An enormous existence standing free.

Do not raise,
For the river,
Any praise;
It roars involuntarily,
From phase to phase.

Respect the narrow lifeline
Of the little plant;
That recalls the labor,
Of the tiny ant.
Not of the tumultuous river,
That flows in the bed you give'er;
The swollen, unhealthy river,
For it, no praise I raise.

Beautiful is the sound of the tree,
A life-long worker, complaint free;
Neither with the cutting saw,
Nor the roaring thunder,
Nor the whip of the wind,
Nor with the autumn freeze,
The giving tree disagrees.

Beautiful is the tree's word,
As it stands mute, even before a horde
To the Lord it offers
With giving hands its coffers
Neither children with rocks
Nor the elderly on ladders
Nor the youth using force
Are denied aught as a matter of course.

Greet the tree
The tree that is of possession free
The tree that gives its all
Yet stands up, gracious and tall.

When the soldier returned
His mother intoned,
"Your brother is shot.
In the Garden,
Find a spot.
Let us bury him
In this very lot."

"I know, mother dear,"
Said the soldier, "Do not fear;
The murderer is nearby, My brother,
I myself shot, clean and clear.

"And actually, I can argue,
That sacrifice was his due.
As was Chingiz Khan's cruelty,
And of the Times he knew..

The bow is now a gun,
It kills father and it kills son.
If you're placed before it,
Your life, too, is done."

I greet the tree again,
My love being far from vain.
A living tree never yields a gun,
On a fiend or foe to train.

 

You Are My Nowruz...
by
Ali Garmarudi
Translated by
Iraj Bashiri
Copyright 2001

 

You are my Nowruz, you are my night and day;
You are my morning sun, you are my moonlight ray.
We pass on, but love, like the sun, remains;
My victorious love, I adore you every day.
Glorious is the name of love, like the Almighty's name;
You are my eternal love, toward whom I pray.
I am the target, waiting your speedy arrow;
End it all, oh speedy arrow, end it all my fairest fay.
You were my yesterday, you are my today;
You are my tomorrow, you are my every day.

 

Hope
by
Ali Garmarudi
Translated by
Iraj Bashiri
Copyright 2001

 

Gently the breeze, her locks weaves
The pond holds a mirror to her leaves
The prairie spreads
Beneath her feet
A green carpet
Over her head
The moon sprinkles Silvery rays
Nights and days
The solitary tree below
Beside the pond of hope
Is the symbol of our desires
The willow.

 

Look
by
Ali Garmarudi
Translated by
Iraj Bashiri
Copyright 2001


 
The mirror complained:
You look at me and cry, why?
I sighed.
The mirror's face went dark
I passed my hand
Over the mirror's face
I removed the sigh
The mirror smiled.

 

 

Cloud and Memory
by
Ali Garmarudi
Translated by
Iraj Bashiri
Copyright 2001

 


 
Like a happy scene,
Slumbers in the sky,
A cloud piece, pure and white.

Visible through this open window
Is a white ship,
With open sails
Anchored in the vast expanse of the night.

A vague feeling
Steps out of memory,
I wish
Like a cloud piece,
My heart was torn to pieces
Also, like a cloud from afar,
I wish
My heart was free.
A pure resting place for a star.

 

 

No Time to Lose
by
Ali Garmarudi
Translated by
Iraj Bashiri
Copyright 2001

 

There is little time to lose
We must get on with it
We must greet the plants individually
And keep vigil by the springs of the world
In their serene face, we must adorn ourselves
We must rise.

We must pray on the lofty surges of the highest seas
We must become humble
And pass the nights in the begging shell of a snail
We must crawl into a shell
And imprison loneliness under the light of the pearl.

We must, in the company of caravaneers, share the desert night; we must drink it.
.
We must, with the humility of loess, kiss the callused hands
of a million brick workers.

There is little time to lose
We must get on with it.
We must pummel a thousand leeches on the Silk Road
We must remove the leeches from the rice paddies
We must take a couple of steps back
And mend the hedges
We must pick up the walnuts that have fallen to the ground,
We must plant.
We must replant the asparagus and discard superstition.

We must learn flying from the migrating birds --from the red breasts.
We must remove the crane plumes from victorious helmets and, using those feathers,
rewrite the entire Nun wa al-Qalam book.

Using a shout,
We must operate on the narrow throat of midnight,
We must send the dawn to Africa,
And exile whiteness.
There is little time
We must get on with it.





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