Archive - Nov 2007 - Article

Dried Rose Petal

The girl whose journal was full of poems and rose petals
Turned out to be a cruel hunter
Chasing young prey
To taste still shaking young flesh
On her cherry lips
With her heart hidden in her grandma’s chest
Mask on her face
Sucking nectar like a butterfly >>>

Where is that brave?

Where is that brave, who has seen your face, daring to speak?
Where is beloved, who has longed for you, and didn't freak?
Who has the patience, to smell your scent, from far meadows,
The source of that scent, on head and on feet, began not to seek?
Who on the globe, has seen a picture, behind some curtains,
Kept claiming arts, before your image, didn't go bleak? >>>

از نيمه راه گمشدگی

داريوش فروهر، در زمان انقلاب، دفترش پاتوق من روزنامه نگار پر شر و شور آن زمان بود؛ و صرفنظر از افق های سياسی متفاوت، صميميت پر صلابتی در او بی اختيار افق هامان را برای لحظاتی که با هم بوديم در هم يکی می کرد. و مجيد شريف، حضورش در اين غربت مضاعف، برايم غنيمتی بود که تنها پس از آن که از دستش دادم معنايش را شناختم. جای خالی مجيد را ديگر هيچکس نتوانست در من پر کند. و او خيلی از اين نوشته ام خوشش می آمد. و خيلی در باره ی اين نوشته با هم حرف زده بوديم و بحت کرده بوديم و گفته بوديم و خنديده بوديم و در دل گريسته بوديم اما.>>>

Roses for Rabia

her last love poem she lettered
in her blood, her own pool of warm
blood dripping dipping in it
her fingers made of moonlight

as she lay dying on the tainted
tiles of a public bath
bent against the wall

bright Rabia Balkhi
Persian poet painter Princess

>>>

From prison

This is prison; the women’s ward of Evin prison. This is not my first time here; not the first time I’ve come to Evin. The first time, I came here as a journalist. Alongside the warden, I walked from cell to cell to listen to the stories of women who were here on charges of addiction, prostitution and murder. I heard only a few words from each woman, only what the presence of the warden allowed. That day all the inmates spoke highly of prison conditions in front of the officials and said they had no problems but as I was leaving they slipped a crumpled piece of paper in my pocket that read: "Help us! No one thinks about us here.”>>>

The evil side of extremism

We should condemn extremism of all kind, right? Wrong. The purpose of this writing is to demonstrate that, extremism like a coin has two sides-good and evil. Then, why do most of us fail to observe that during the long history of our world, the extremists have been behind all important events and movements such as revolutions, dynasty replacements and other changes, from drastic to subtle? We also need to remind ourselves that only one or a handful of leaders are the engines of the movements and they determine the direction of the change-good or evil.>>>

Embrace Me As You Did "Shams"

O' Mollana, Begging Upon Your Feet ..
Mesmerized By The Presence of Your Spirit ..

Bereft of All Evil, Embracing You In Love ..
With The Spirit Rising, Torrents Rush For Comapny ..

The Blessing of Your "Breath", Meandering My Existence ..
The "Casualness" of Your Stare, Awash in Tranquility .. >>>

Gift of love

It was autumn of 1998 when Rumi and I became friends. I was in my first semester of junior year in college; bubbling with excitement and preparations for the following semester which I would spend in Sevilla, Spain. During Thanksgiving break at home, I received a couple of gifts from my brother who had just returned from a business conference in Minneapolis. As the baby of the family, I was accustomed to this. What I did not expect however, was to receive a gift from his friend and co-worker Don, who had also traveled with him. I opened Don’s package to find a small book with a red cover containing 2 CD inserts. The word ‘Eshgh’ (love) was written on the cover weaved-in with its English title, “A Gift of Love Deepak and Friends Present Music Inspired by the Love Poems of Rumi”>>>

بگذار زبانها بگویند

در 22 نوامبر 1988 پس از شنیدن خبر قتل داریوش و پروانه فروهر شعر زیر را نوشتم:

ای دشنه
كاش بر آن دست
شوریده بودی!...

چرا شاعر دشنه را مورد خطاب قرار داده است؟ چرا قاتل را نه؟ و از آن مهمتر چرا مقتولین را نه؟ 

>>>

Let all tongues speak

[PERSIAN TEXT] On November 22, 1998 after hearing of the murder of two Iranian dissidents Dariush and Parvaneh Foroohar, who were stabbed to death by the secret police at their home in Tehran, I wrote this poem:

O dagger
I wish you had rebelled
Against that hand!...

Why does the poet address the dagger? Why not the murderer? And more importantly, why not the murdered?

>>>

The butterfly that perished with the candle

Every year, since that sad day when I went to my parents’ house and they told me the horrific news, when the twenty third of November comes along, I cannot but think of one couple—Dariush and Parvaneh Foroohar. When some time later I met their son and daughter, Arash and Parastoo, I saw the amazing resemblance. On this day I always think about them as well, that forever they will have to live with the thought of that awful autumn evening, when they lost their beloved parents.>>>

شیرین عبادی و حمایت از ظالم

اولین مشکل استدلال عبادی آن است که در خدمت قدرت است، نه در خدمت قربانی. یعنی درست به همان روشی که مردسالاران وقتی مثلا زنی مورد تجاوز قرار می‌گیرد بجای ملامت مرد متجاوز، زن قربانی را سرزنش می‌کنند که چرا مثلا با زن بودنش (که طبیعتا حق اوست)‌ باعث تحریک مرد متجاوز شده است، عبادی هم ایران را سرزنش می‌کند که چرا با استفاده از حق‌اش بر اساس قوانین جهانی آمریکا را به تجاوز تحریک می‌کند. >>>

My first few days

November 24, 1978, yes long time ago. The Iran Air flight landed in New York's JFK, late, as usual, I'm sure, and I arrived into US. After getting my one suitcase I walked outside the double doors, right outside of Iran Air terminal. I was wearing my new leather jacket my friend had gotten me before I left Iran. It was barely warm enough for a late November night in the cold New York air. I put my hands in my pockets and took couple of deep breaths. It was cold and crisp. Less than 24 hours earlier I had left Iran. My older sister's help me pack that one suitcase with couple of suits, socks, few shirts, and some personal items. No razor, I wasn't old enough, I was only 17>>>

حدود جهانی شدن ما

در مسير مطرح شدن مفهومی به نام «جهانی شدن»، ما ايرانی ها نيز، چه آن ها که در داخل ايران و چه آن ها که به صورت پراکنده در سراسر جهان زندگی می کنيم، خواسته و ناخواسته به اين ميدان وارد شده ايم و، به اين ترتيب، مدتی است که، سخن گفتن از «جهانی شدن» در بين ما هم متداول شده است و به نظر می رسد که هر چه پيش می رويم بيش از پيش به بحث درباره ی اين روند و به حضور داشتن در آن تمايل پيدا می کنيم. >>>

East-West bridge

I love the U.S. with its many opportunities and the can-do, pioneering and optimistic attitude to life and remain a staunch advocate for the integration of many of the good aspects of western culture with selective reformed aspects of Eastern, particularly the Iranian culture. American culture nurtures individual rights and freedoms of choice, aspiration to excellence and industry, and predictability in one’s life. In comparison, Iranian culture is family-centered, enhances one’s state of mind and spirit with its long history, esthetic literature, and a sense of belonging to one of the oldest and richest civilizations>>>