This is the way that autumn came to the trees:it stripped them down to the skin,left their ebony bodies naked.
It shook out their hearts, the yellow leaves,scattered them over the ground.
Anyone could trample them out of shapeundisturbed by a single moan of protest.
The birds that herald dreamswere exiled from their song,each voice torn out of its throat.
They dropped into the dusteven before the hunter strung his bow.
Oh,
God of May have mercy.
Bless these withered bodieswith the passion of your resurrection;make their dead veins flow with blood again.
Give some tree the gift of green again.
Let one bird sing.(translated by Naomi Lazard)Each of the translations in The True Subject is a consequence of long and arduous collaborations between Lazard and Faiz -- Faiz would first provide Lazard with a literal translation of the poem,
Lazard would then interrogate him on each and every aspect of the text to understand every nuance, every image, and every metaphor before beginning its English incarnation.
The final result is remarkable: a reader familiar with both languages cannot fail to realize that the verses in both incarnations are the work of the same poet.
