Arts and Literature

Now you are Thirteen

Once upon a time…
we took make-believe trips in imaginary planes
we drank cups of imaginary tea
we slept in a make-believe tent
and sailed an imaginary sea >>>

خانم معلم

با کف دست محکم روی کاپوت ماشینی که در یک قدمی او ترمز کرده بود کوبید و نگاهی خشم آلود به راننده انداخت. اما سپس بی درنگ و بی توجه به اعتراض های راننده راه خود را پیش گرفت و از اتومبیل دور شد. در تقاطع دو خیابان سی متری و نادری که چهار راه بزرگ نادری را در مرکز شهر اهواز ایجاد می کردند سر و صدا و شلوغی بیداد می کرد. شهرت این چهار راه بزرگ تا آن اندازه بود که نامش بطور عام بر تمام مناطق ریز و درشت مرکز شهر اطلاق می شد>>>

It was summer of 72

It was summer of 1972. It is a memory but plays like a dream in my head. I spent a lot of time with my youngest uncle Hamid and his friends. Mostly Hadaf graduating year students who were ok with a kid my age hanging with them. I was good at Takhte, convoluted jokes & conversations, and could handle their version of Shah/Vazir that included real slaps that left finger prints on the face for a good half a day, Otooye Atashin that could take a chunk of your hair off, and Shah's takht who would literally sit on you throughout his reign that was always longer than appropriate and ended up in tyranny no matter who got to be king>>>

Uncle Parviz

Off the Silk Road
Our Land Rover is parked in a gravel lot
We have rhubarb drink over white cotton fields
With no end, fresh morning breeze over Neyshabur
Turquoise land sings to its Roof, Mount Binâlud
And smiles at us young children from Tehran
Our vacant summer time
In Grandpa’s >>>

فصل نو

گندابه ی پایان چیزیست
در مشام
کهنه‌ها را خیس کنیم
فصل نو
پاکی میطلبد >>>

Green Skies

Inside a small briefing room six officers of the Iranian Air Force, dressed in flight suits, are awaiting the arrival of a senior officer. The room is messy and unkempt, as if no one has paid it any particular attention for a few days. Two officers are scribbling data next to a crudely drawn map on the whiteboard. A few others are looking out the window at the light snow falling on the runway. In a corner, and away from everyone else, sits Maj. Reza Ahangar, a tall, dark haired man in his early 40’s. His head is resting on his crossed arms on a small writing chair that he is sitting on>>>

ژن های تاریخی و ملّی

برخی از وقایع دوران پادشاهی هرمزچهارم و پسرش خسرو پرویز را که بیست و دوّمین و بیست وسوّمین پادشاه ساسانی – اواخرقرن ششم و اوائل قرن هفتم میلادی (٥٩٠- ٦٢٨) – بوده اند می آورم و با وقایع مشابهش در زمان پادشاهی محمّد رضا شاه پهلوی و دوران پس از او مقایسه می کنم. و شما خود داوری کنید که اینها آیا فقط شباهتهائی ظاهری است و یا ژن های تاریخی و ملّی. فرستادن لباس زنانه - هرمز چهارم (٥٧٩ – ٥٩٠ میلادی) برای تحقیر مخالف سر سختش بهرام چوبینه که سرداری بزرگ و پهلوانی بنام بوده است لباسی زنانه با شلواری سرخ و سرپوشی زرد رنگ به عنوان هدیه برای او می فرستد: >>>

پریشانی ها

پریشانی ات
آتشم زد
ای زاده ی  ماه آب
تو شعله وری امروز
و من تبخیر  تو >>>

Society of Professional Dreamers

The 20th Celebration of Iranian Cinema kicked off this weekend at University of California, Los Angeles, featuring a collection of established and emerging talents from Iran. The goal of this greatly received show-case is, and has been, to present a diverse portrait of Iran’s variety of cultural communities, leading customs and expressions as well as ethnic minorities’ way of living. On Friday February 5th, the opening night was dedicated to Heiran (2009) Shalizeh Alizadeh’s first feature film>>>

Ali Farhang Opens Up

Ali Farhang was walking back from the park with his grandson Payman.  They had gone to the playground, where Payman had shown his grandfather the many things he could do with monkey bars and slides and swings.
    "Baba bozorg," Payman said.  "Why were you in jail?"
    "I was in prison because our people were not free and I thought that they should be." >>>

وای دلم

ای وای  دلم  که  رفته  از  دست  دلم
  هر کس که به دل نشست بشکست دلم
  دیوانه  دلم  اگر  کمی‌  عاقل  بود
  افسار  گسسته  دل  نمی بست  دلم >>>

شیهه ی بهمن

در شهر تو، شبدرها
کی شیرین می شوند؟
در سرزمین من، آن سال
در سردی بهمن رسیدند >>>

February's Neigh

In your city
When does the clover become sweet?
In my country, that year
It was ripe in the midst of February's cold.
I didn't see the white steed
Tied to the gate, as forseen
Waiting for the Messiah >>>

My Valentine

I have waited for you, and I will patiently wait much longer. There are signs by which I will instantly recognize you, even though our paths have only crossed subliminally at best. Those instants are burnt into my memory by the powerful flash of Young Love.>>>

برای شکوفه های بر باد

برشاخ ِ نازک شعرم ترانه ئی شکفت؛
چه بی درنگ ولی
خموش شد به کوته ِ آهی.
وقت خزان نبود
که توفان موسم سرد
گذر کرده باشد از باغ
به قصد ِ شبیخون، >>>

Morghe Sahar

...>>>

Monster’s Last Bout

Blood dripping from
Gaping mouth:
Wounded monster
Musters one last bout.  
Slippery fingers, crooked hands
Grasp brittle branches
Of a dead tree’s
Timorous stance >>>