Mansour Khaksar (1939-2010, standing right in photo) was a well-known Iranian poet living in Los Angeles since 1990. He was a member of “Saturdays’ Notebooks”, an Iranian literary circle in LA as well as a co-editor of the literary organ of “Iranian Writers’ Association in Exile”. Mansour has published a dozen of collections of poetry including Traveling in the Mist, The Angelenos, and Up to This Point. He killed himself on Thursday, March 18, 2010 in orange County, leaving behind his wife and three daughters. A memorial will be held for him on April 18, in Los Angeles. The poems below were translated by Majid Naficy in October 2008.
Still
With a ballpoint pen
Incidentally dark
I sign the manuscript
That he has put in front of me
And I am familiar with its text.
He is not more than a lad
With big eyes
Who ignores my trembling fingers
And stares at my name
Which I’ve put near my signature.
A giddy billy goat goes uphill
I measure his speed
And the air
Which is still dark.
So That Tree Would Grow
He worked hard
With the help of water and clouds
So that tree would grow tall
And give him shade to rest.
But death grew in every leaf
And the tree dried out.
He gave up
and painted the house
with a white brush.
But neither the cold died out
Nor the night came to an end.
