Arts and Literature

desire lives in a cold grave

The spot where your hand lay still is warm.
Your words hang suspended in the air
where first they flew forth.
They resonate
but I cannot hear them.
Your wails of love and sorrow,
bittersweet intruders,
breathe forth >>>

Teresa's Secret

Teresa baby sat my children for eight months until my project, which lasted till late in the evenings, ended. On leaving her job with me, Teresa baby sat for one of my neighbors whom I knew well. It was this neighbors who telephoned me one evening to let me know that Teresa had overdosed on sleeping pills and was taken to a nearby hospital. On hearing this news, I knew I had to go and visit her right away. When I entered the room I almost did not recognize her. She was lying on her back with oxygen tubes stuffed into her nose and she was connected to an IV bag. She looked pale and frail. She opened her eyes and gave me a quick glance. Sorrow and despair had replaced the smile on her face and the twinkles in her eyes>>>

Corporal Joe's Last Thoughts

Why am I here, I don't know
"We are here to protect them oil,
Kill bad guys, set the people free and then go."
Sergent Bill said this to all of us.
Ma ol' man says it is all about the oil though
Dick and Georgie who sent us here know it all
Mamma said take The Book with you and save them souls >>>

An evening to be proud of

On March 14, the Oakland East Bay Symphony across San Francisco held a very special classical performance dedicated to Iranian composers of the modern era. I don't know of any other symphony in the west that has done this, or at least in a long time. This program was called "Notes from Persia", and featured a wonderful Iranian piano soloist, Tara Kamangar; an extraordinary vocalist, Raeeka Shehabi-Yaghmai; and the work of two important Iranian composers: Aminollah Hossein and Loris Tjeknavorian. Michael Morgan, the extremely talented and innovative conductor of Oakland East Bay Symphony, got the idea for this concert from one of his staff members, who is Iranian>>>

We Have Everything

Contrary to my expectations, my ten years old nephew who was not surprised to see the slinky I’d brought him as a souvenir from the Unite States said, “We have slinky too. Next time we go to the bazaar, I’ll show it to you amoo jaan or as you Americans say dear uncle. Whatever you find in America we have it right here in Iran.” And he was right. To my surprise, the next day in the market he showed me many colorful versions of slinky sold at much lower prices than the US, all home grown and unauthorized reproductions of the genuine article>>>

دریغ و صد دریغ از پارسالت

نگاهی به هنرمندان وطنی بندازیم که با این همه چین و چروک و در حالی که نا و توانی هم براشون نمونده عینک های ته استکانی شون رو پشت صحنه در می آرن و با هفت قلم رنگ و روغن و مژهای مصنوعی پنج سانتی و دندان های عاریتی به رنگ برف مثل طاوس با هزار عشوه و کرشمه عین از اونجای فیل افتاده ها میرن روی صحنه تا خیل عظیم مردمی که بیش از سی ساله در این قحط الرجال هنری حیرون و سرگردون موندن رو سرگرم کنن. علیا مخدرات بدلیل اینکه در همون دقایق اولیه اجرای برنامه خمیازه ها رو یکی پس از دیگری در میون جمعیت مشاهده می کنن وسط کنسرت مجبورن چندین بار به پشت صحنه برگردن تا برای ایجاد تنوع هم که شده کلاه گیس ها و لباس هاشون را تند و تند عوض کنن.>>>

Concierto de Aranjuez

What I can tell you about Miles Davis is that when I listened to his music, I could see her. I could see her and she was even more than I thought she was and I was even more than I thought I was too. I couldn't see her face or anything like that, but I could see the world where she existed. It was the same one where I existed. As long as there was a music like that, the worlds where we existed were the same. She didn't even have to like the music necessarily, because it liked her. It had been made with her in mind, and it had been made with my hope in her in mind. The way that it had us in mind was unconditional. Look, it was saying, I am trying to be beautiful, so I have to believe in you whether you believe in me or not. Of course if you do believe in me, then where we'll get to together will really be somewhere>>>

بی انصافا

از زنی که یکروز اون رو
برهنه تو شکمش داشت
ولی حالا روشو ازش برگردونده
که زخمیش نکنه،
با وجودی که تموم وجودش اشتیاقه،
می خواد دوباره قورتش بده،
می خواد بچه ش دوباره کوچولو بشه
و خودشودرسته توش بندازه

>>>

The Spider Killings (10)

Roxanne had been grilling Ramin for a half hour now, about the state of crime, in particular prostitution, in Mashad, his crime statistics, his office hierarchy, the qualifications of his staff etc. It had all boiled down in the end to the recent murder of the woman found on a busy city street a couple of weeks ago. The woman Roxanne believed was maybe the third or fourth victim of a serial killer, nicknamed the Spider Killer behind closed doors. Her friend Peyman’s informant would not elaborate on a precise number of victims, just that there had been more than two>>>

Sign Language as second language

I am in a line at my bank. The Brazilian and the Italian teller are busy with the customers who crane their necks to grasp what the tellers are saying in their thick accents. The quickest of tellers—a short, stout young man who doesn’t have an accent—a real Canadian—with short dyed blond spikes, is not in today. There is a sign on his counter: CLOSED. I look at my watch. The Italian and the Brazilian take their time. Keep talking. I’ll have to grab something to eat on my rush to class. They don’t care. They just shoot bland smiles at the impatient customers like me. I see a hand waving at me from behind a desk at the other end of the counter. It belongs to a new teller—a young Chinese man who stands now behind the desk where new accounts are handled>>>

بوی بهار آورد باد

بهار، زمان نو شدن و زندگی از سر گرفتن طبیعت ، آغاز روئیدن و بیرون آمدن گل و گیاه از شکم خاک تیره و تار و رنگارنگ شدن باغ و بوستان پس از یک دورۀ سردی و بی رنگی ، همیشه یکی از مضامین مورد علاقۀ شاعران ایرانی بوده است. منتهی در هر دوره ای و در هر سبکی ، شاعران طبیعت را به صورتهای گو نه گون منطبق با شرایط زمان و مکان دیده، توصیف کرده اند. و از گرد آمدن همین گونه گونی هاست که سبکهای مختلف ادبی بوجود آمده است. سبکهای ادبی و شعری را در شعرو ادب پارسی انواعی است : خراسانی (ترکست انی) ، عراقی، هندی و شعر نو.>>>

نوروز در زندان

در راهروی بند سفره‌ای سراسری چیده شده بود و در دو طرف آن بچه‌ها نشسته بودند. در چندین نقطه از سالن، سفره‌های هفت‌سین پهن شده بودند. اسدالله و چند نفر دیگر از حواریونش! همگی با لُنگ کراوات زده و در طول بند رژه می‌رفتند و به شوخی کردن با این و آن پرداخته و به جشن و پای‌کوبی و شعرخوانی می‌پرداختند. یک نفر نیز اسدالله را همراهی می‌کرد که از او به نام” آقای فتو” نام می‌‌برد و با اشاره‌ی اسدالله از افراد مختلف با دوربین ساختگی‌ای که درست کرده بود، عکس می‌گرفت و تحویل آنان می‌داد. عکس‌ها چیزی جز نقاشی‌های ساده و ابتدایی بیش نبودند. مثلاً عکسی که ظاهراً از تواب‌‌ها می‌گرفت و به دست‌شان می‌داد، کره‌خری بود که چهار دست و پایش را هوا کرده بود. سیگارهایی ساختگی نیز به وسیله‌ی کاغذ، با استادی تمام درست شده بود که به لحاظ شکل ظاهری بسیار شبیه به سیگارهای واقعی می‌نمودند و در میان سفره‌ی هفت‌سین بند گذاشته شده بود>>>

Confessions of a Farsiholic

The first time I was fined for saying “Farsi” instead of “Persian” I didn’t fight the ticket because back then the action was all about French. French fries had become “Freedom” fries, ruining a flavorful shortcut to khoresh-e-gheimeh. Flag wavers claimed fried potatoes sliced lengthwise should never have been called French fries in the first place. There were “chips” to go with fried fish in England as early as 1864. Surely the US adopting fries in the 1930s, should have named this calorie bomb after her freedom-loving ally, and not after folks who would leave Iraqis in peace. The Francophile in me worried that the logic of Iran experts who said the term “Farsi” broke ties with prestigious Persia, could also apply to French culture>>>

ای لبت لعل لاله‌گون دلم

«استاد شهریار این شعر را كه با صدای خودش روی نوار كاست ضبط كرده بود به آیت‌الله‌ هاشمی رفسنجانی هدیه كرد.  استاد در این شعر استواری و زیبایی خطبه‌های نماز جمعه ایشان را ستوده است.»
ای غریو تو ارغنون دلم
سطوت خطبه‌ات ستون دلم
خطبه‌های نماز جمعه تو
نقشه حمله با قشون دلم

>>>