Nature or Brick
Nature or brick?
That is the question—
but it is not
the whole question.
Not nature alone,
not brick alone.
Every brick
I laid upon another
became the wall
of my own making.
Every path
I opened from within myself
was handed over
to my fate.
I was clay,
made of the stuff
of seed.
The wind came,
the rain fell,
and the sun
came to rest.
The first thread
of my destiny
ran strand by strand—
one thread
in my hand,
one thread
in the hand
of my fate.
And in the struggle
of being pulled apart,
strand by strand,
the threads
were either
fleeing,
or caught
in their own collars,
or crying,
with patience
and persistence,
and sometimes
desperation,
I shaped
the clay of my nature
into what I became.
If the brick
was crooked,
it was not
because the clay
was raw;
it was because
the brickmaker\'s hand
was unskilled—
or because
other brickmakers
had laid
their own bricks.
Your destiny
is nothing
but these very bricks:
those that have settled,
those that have broken—
patience and grace,
wonder and craft.
So do not
ask me
what your destiny is.
Ask instead:
with these very bricks,
break upon break,
what house
will you build?
Perhaps nature
is simply
what was given
to us
from the beginning.
And perhaps the brick
is what
we add to it,
day after day,
with our own hands.
And here we are—
and being—
brick by brick,
still
becoming.
سرشت یا خشت
سرشت یا خشت؟
،مسأله این است
.اما تمام مسأله این نیست
،نه تنها سرشت
.نه تنها خشت
،هر خشت که بر خشت نهادم
،دیوارِ نهادم شد
،هر راه که از خود گشادم
.تقدیم تقدیرِ من شد
گِل بودم از جنس نطفه
،باد آمد
باران زد و
خورشید نشست؛
سررشتۀ سرنوشتم
رشته رشته بود
رشته ای در دست
من
رشته ای در دست
سرنوشت من
در کشاکش رشته رشته شدن
رشته ها
یا گریزان
بودند
یا در گریبان
یا گریان
با صبر و اصرار
و گاهی
استیصال
گِل سرشتم را سرشتم
،اگر خشت کج بود
از خامی خشت نبود؛
از خامی دست خشت ساز بود
از خشت اندازی خشت سازان دگر بود
سرنوشتت چیزی نیست
جز همین خشتهای
نشسته و شکسته
شکیب و شکیل
شگرف و شگرد
پس از من نپرس
سرنوشتت چیست؛
بپرس
با همین خشتهای شکنبرشکن
چه خانهای میسازی
،شاید سرشت
همان چیزیست
که از آغاز به ما دادهاند؛
،و شاید خشت
همان چیزیست
که هر روز
به دستِ خود
بر آن میافزاییم
و ماییم
و بودن
و خشتبهخشت
در حالِ شدن
سهیل خداپرستی