Majid Naficy: Visiting the Moon
I was fifteen years old
When I found the moon in the Biabanak sand dunes.
Choman Hardi: Homeland, what shall I do with you?
What shall I do with you, homeland?
What shall I do with all this blood?
Where shall I put you
to prevent you from filling my days
with damage and grief?
Majid Naficy: Sweet Accent
I like the sweet accent
Heard on the stairs this morning:
Persian with a hint of American.
Kevin Zeese and Margaret Flowers: The US must grow up and respect Iranian Independence
One of the lessons from our recent visit to Iran as a Peace Delegation is that Iran is a mature country. It is 2,500 years old, ten times as old as … Continue reading
Majid Naficy: A Return to the Garden of Goethe
If your son asks you When was the best day of the Revolution What will you tell him? Will you say instantly: February 11, 1979? The day you opened the gate of Evin … Continue reading
Kareem Tayyar: Tempests
We are sitting in the nature garden on the southern side of the campus. It is dark, and the autumn wind has picked up her ancient violin. We are talking … Continue reading
Kareem Tayyar: The Prince of Shiraz
This is your country. You know which wells you can climb down before nightfall, Which wells will be dry even after the autumn rains, Which wells have paintings on 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
