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Happy Nowruz and Spring Solstice


By Roya Monajem, Tehran

Nowruz is regarded as the birthday of our Blue Planet Earth
Since the time immemorial
Celebrating the history of human existence
On her bosom with spring flourishing trees and blossoms
In hope of Rebirth
In the way Forough Farokhzad recounts in her poem
Let’s read it together while remembering all those terrified innocent lives
Driven out of their homes or killed on her hands in the Middle East
And on her 7 continents as the result of human cruelty and ignorance


My life is just a dark holy verse
In which, every dawn of eternal blooming and burgeoning
I sighed you over and over
In this holy verse I tied you
To Trees, Water and Fire

Life is perhaps
A long street where everyday
A woman with a basket passes by ...
Life is perhaps
A rope with which a man hangs himself from a tree
Life is perhaps
A schoolchild coming back home from school
Life is perhaps
Lighting a cigarette...
In the languid interval of two love-making
Or the dancing promenade of a passing pedestrian
Who raises his hat
Smiling for no reason
Bidding another passerby:
Good Morning

Life is perhaps that obstructed moment when
My glance melts itself in the pupil of your eyes
And there is a sensation in that, which
I will blend with the conception of Moon and perception of Darkness

In a room, which is as big as Loneliness....
My heart
Which is as big as Love
Looks at its simple excuses of happiness
At the beautiful withering of flowers in the vase
At the seedling which you planted in our garden, and
At the song of Canaries
Singing as much as a Window

This is my portion
This is my porition
My portion is the sky that hanging a curtain
Will deprive me
My portion is going down an abandoned stairway
To something like decay, homesickness and the principle of searching
My share is the sad strolling in the Garden of Memories
And dying in the grief of a voice telling me
“I love your Hands”

I plant my hands in the Garden
I will germinate, I Know, I know, I know
And sparrows will lay eggs in the hollows of my inky fingers

I hang a pair of red cherries
like ear-rings from my ears
and stick Dahlia’s petals on my nails
There is an alleyway where
The boys who were in-love with me
Are still thinking with the same entangled hairs, thin necks and skinny legs
About the innocent smiles of a girl, who one night
The wind took her away...

There is an alleyway where my heart
Has stolen from my childhood’s place

Taking a three dimensional trip on the line of Time
And making the dry line of Time pregnant in three dimensions
A 3D of a conscious image
Returning from the party of a mirror

And that’s how
Somebody dies and somebody survives
No hunter will catch a pearl
From a pitiable brook which falls into a pit

I know a small sad nymph
Who lives in an ocean
And sings her heart in a wooden pipe
Piece by piece
A small sad nymph
Who dies at night with a kiss
And is reborn at dawn with a kiss


Kazz Morishita, Cherry-Blossoms in Moonlight

Let us take this sad nymph as our Mother-Earth
And instead of breaking her heart with our unkindness and inhumanities
Revive it with a kiss of Hope in the coming New Year
So while playing her wooden pipe
She would instead begin to sing:

My life is a holy verse of Light
In which every dawn of eternal blooming and burgeoning
I joyously embrace you over and over
To Remember our Humanity
And Feel Responsible


The ancient icon of Faravahar symbolizing
Good Thoughts, Good Words, Good Deeds
decorating the facade of an old house in Tehran


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