Once upon a time, a man and a woman
were in love in Ispahan in Iran.
Dazzled by the beauty of the mosques
and excited by one another,
they found that the architecture
measured up to their voluptuous emotions.
They were intoxicated by the sweet harmony
of Nature and Architecture,
Body and Decor.
Funny, the roofs are like boobs.
What are boobs?
Breasts.
All these domes and cupolas are like women's breasts.
Yours are so beautiful.
Your minaret's not bad either.
Come closer... Come here.
You've got a nice bottom.
So do you.
If I slide down... after...
you've got two little soft buttocks.
Be quiet!
You're so prudish about your sexual things.
I'm hungry.
I'm thirsty.
It's that fountain, all night.
It's pretty, but it makes me thirsty
and want to tinkle.
Hold me tight... Grab them.
Yes...
You can pull a bit.
Your skin's soft.
- Want me to translate? - Yes.
"The lines of your body are arabesques in my imaginary garden."
Wait.
I'll recite another one.
"When I've gone to sleep forever, place beneath my head,
"next to this sachet of earth from Kerbela,
"this silk scroll bearing all the secret names I once gave Naziad
as my hand wandered over her slim, undulous body."
Those naughty Iranian poets!
- Beautiful, isn't it? - Yes, very.
Wait, let me write you a poem.
It's dirty!
If it hasn't been used, it's not dirty.
Pity it's not silk.
"Bird-man, I love your tail.
"It shines in the rising sun,
gentle as a feather and proud as a peacock."
You can't be serious.
A tail's not serious.
It's superb or gay. But it's not serious.
You don't understand men at all.
The feeling's mutual!
Did these lovers understand each other better, or as badly?
The poet Saadi says the man, a cobbler,
bit his young wife's lip till it bled.
Bitten by love or not, true couples are rare in Persian miniatures.
Unless they're prudes.
In the sumptuous settings of palaces or imaginary gardens,
you usually see men among themselves...
and occasionally, women among themselves.
Or a poet, who might say, as did Eluard,
"I speak of a garden... I dream...
but I do love you."
As for the lovers, Youssouf and Zouleika,
they argue and love in a painted house,
whose abstraction amazes our strolling lovers.
Persian art goes from extreme pleasure to extreme rigor.
The fountains and pools reflect
not only the bulbs,
vines and flowers of dreams,
but also the vast space, enclosed or not,
of the king's mosque.
It's a marriage of sky blue and mosaic blue,
the crossroads between profane and sacred art.
A most titillating place for lovers...
even if they are characters in a film.
TITRA FILM Paris Sync By Mardin89A Mardin89A@yahoo.com