Parvin’s divorce

Since childhood I had been brought up at a home which was a cradle of knowledge and literature. I had been raised among the books, but all of a sudden at the age of twenty-eight when I was getting close to maturity, I was entering a house where there wasn't any trace of knowledge and science nor that of literature or art. A house full of drunk laughter of reveling friends of my husband who frequently became his guests and I had to tolerate them. My husband had some good points. That later some of the friends and relatives made a terrible demon out of him isn't correct. Despite the fact that he had a harsh military spirit, he never treated me with violence. He was nice and kind. Some of the close relatives spread the rumor that my husband had banned me from composing or reading poems. While it wasn't so and he wasn't at all opposed to me being a poetess or composing poems. Incidentally, he had married me because I was a poetess and a renowned figure. The reason for our divorce was only the gap that existed between us. Me and my husband belonged to two separate worlds and couldn't unite. We were different in many respects; with regard to insight, culture, habits, customs, etc. I had been raised in a religious family who were the patrons of literature and I felt alienated in my husband’s house. This was why I couldn't stay in Kermanshah for more than two months. Almost after two-and-a-half moths of living in my husband’s house I went back to my father’s house in Tehran. But upon return I didn't hear the sound of Farhad’s adze from the Bistun Mount.

Adze's sound doesn’t come from Bistun tonight

Perhaps Farhad has fallen a sweet asleep

It was mid summer that I left my husband’s house. When I arrived in Tehran, I didn't say anything to any body about my marriage and tried to forget that bitter experience for good. I only composed the following three couplets about my marriage with my cousin; that’s all:

O, flower what did you see in rose garden

Except contempt, thorn and burden

O, charming gem with all your glow

What did you see except lowly fellow

You went to garden, but your share was a cage

O, captive bird, did you see anything except a cage?

Translated by: Sadroddin Musawi