Majid Naficy: Kabul
But larks have not forgotten to fly
And grass still sprouts from the earth of Kabul
And rivers are replenished by the snows of Pamirs
And the groves of Samangan are filled with sounds of birds.
Majid Naficy: A Little Girl’s Rebellion
At seven o’clock in the morning
As I pass by a green house
An automatic sprinkler
Suddenly goes off
And wets me head to toe.
Kaveh Bassiri: Afterword
In the Quran, God taught Adam the names of all things. Even the angels didn’t know the names. Do we carry the weight of these words with us? Do they hold us responsible?
Majid Naficy: Khomeini’s Visit
My father never told us
That Khomeini had visited him
For medical treatment many years ago
Kaveh Bassiri: Writing Persian
During the hostage crisis, when I was Albanian,
my history teacher conceded, “You’ve to be born into English
to be its rightful citizen.” I wanted to be an American poet,
but was a Persian settler.
Majid Naficy: Censoring Love
Suddenly, I remember Ezzat
Who was shot in Evin Prison
And buried in the Cemetery of the Infidels
In a mass grave without any gravestones.
Majid Naficy: Corpse of the Revolution
I do not wait for poetry
But go in search of it
Because my wings are broken
And I am left far from my nest…
Majid Naficy: Visiting the Moon
I was fifteen years old
When I found the moon in the Biabanak sand dunes.
Majid Naficy: Mosaddegh at The Hague
If you go to the Netherlands
Visit The Hague Court of Justice
On a rainy night
Majid Naficy: Sweet Accent
I like the sweet accent
Heard on the stairs this morning:
Persian with a hint of American.
Majid Naficy: Azad in Dubai
My son Azad has gone to Dubai With Zhu, one of his artists. I tell him: “Go to Khalifa Tower And see if from its roof You can spot the … Continue reading
Majid Naficy: The Signs of My Mother
Oh high moon! What are you waiting for? Follow your path quickly And carry my message to Isfahan From the window of my bedroom. My mother is still awake And … Continue reading
Majid Naficy: The Last Story of Borhan
Borhan Hoseini passed, too. His heart stopped beating Behind the red light. He was in a death car With his last story Carried in a Samsonite brief case. Of our … Continue reading
