ROSTAM AT RAMSAR

From Tehran go west,

And turn north

By taking the Chalus Road.

Then climb from Karaj –

Arduous and steep:

The challenges

Of hairpin bends,

Thrilling views

Across the barren hills

Of “deer-skin” hues –

Blends of pale brown and dust.

But the pallet expands

With the lie of the lands

As the mountain road winds its way

Past deep valleys

Housing small villages

Surrounded by poplar trees.

The descent down

The other side is breathtaking -

Dominated by unbroken contours

Of lush scenery’s greenery.

On the downhill run

It is as if drivers traverse

Every fertile landscape on earth –

Shrubs stunted but nice

Amongst the snow and ice,

Then conifers reaching up,

Then tall bushes, elms and oaks,

And then swaying palm trees,

Citrus rising in rows,

And flamboyant flowers

Exploding in pixelated bowers.

The slopes level out

For the farms of the narrow plain.

Beyond them is the steely blue sea –

The Caspian coast and its gentle sun,

A sky of fiery sapphires

Set between cumulous clouds.

From Ramsar’s Grand Hotel

The coastline stares back at the traveller –

Its deep green foliage

Studded with palm trees’ fronds;

Friendly grey sands

Speckled with driftwood;

Its rippling waters,

Stained yellow with sunlight by day

And buffed silver by moonbeams at night.

The hotel’s gamboling gardens

Cascade over multi-tiered terraces.

Serene white walls and glossy windows

Contrast with velvety green hills.

Stone cherubs, mystery’s shapes,

Perch on the balustrades

Of the old casino’s verandahs,

Or frolic in the garden beds

And fizzing water fountains.

A shining statue of mighty Rostam

Stands like a legendary sentry

Sent by a mythical king –

Or, more likely, by Ferdowsi himself.

Magnificent Persian lions

Also keep the watch,

Lest the splendour around them

Spoil in the agenda of today.