Vaya, Vaya

Kronos Quartet

Mahsa Vahdat

.en translation

Vaya, Vaya
I’ll have wings in your air
I’ll be a wave in your voice
I’ll be a flame in your flickering heat, in my cries of wanting you
Bitterly I’ll twist in the veins of your vines
I’ll be a stubborn cloud in the tears of my grief for you
Vaya, Vaya
I’ll grow green in my sorrow for your passing years
I’ll stay in love in the sun above your mountain tops
I’ll be tears in the purity of your streams
at one with my limitless hope for you
Vaya, Vaya

Translator’s note: The title, “Vaya, Vaya,” is the same word twice: it is a lamentation, an expression of grief—while it is similar to “Alas!” in English, the Persian word here is more colloquial, so as to mean “O God!” or “God help me!”

About “Vaya, Vaya,” Mahsa Vahdat writes: “Vaya, Vaya is a deep expression of Love to a beloved, constantly transforming into a homeland. Since the pandemic arrived in March 2020, for more than one year the most visited place for me has been a place in Berkeley where the Rose garden is situated. I walked there almost every day at the time of Sunset, the moment when the Sun turns its glow to my motherland where my breath is interwoven with its soil, the moment when darkness and light embrace each other and when the intense red, dark blue and golden rays in the clouds create a unique image, while passion, rebellion, glow, hope and sorrow entwine. With my deep longing and desire for my motherland these words and music came to me like a wonder. This zone in Berkeley is one of my dear zones in life. Wherever I roam in the world, this place will always remain in my heart”.

Sad Sol