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Posts Tagged ‘Iranian’

I am a sculptor, a molder of form.
In every moment I shape an idol.
But then, in front of you, I melt them down
I can rouse a hundred forms
and fill them with spirit,
but when I look into your face,
I want to throw them in the fire.
My souls spills into yours and is blended.
Because my soul has absorbed your fragrance,
I cherish it.
Every drop of blood I spill
informs the earth,
I merge with my Beloved
when I participate in love.
In this house of mud and water,
my heart has fallen to ruins.
Enter this house, my Love, or let me leave.

~Rumi

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This is Love: to fly heavenward,
To rend, every instant, a hundred veils.
The first moment, to renounce life;
The last step, to fare without feet.
To regard this world as invisible,
Not to see what appears to one’s self.
O heart, I said, may it bless thee
To have entered the circle of lovers,
To look beyond the range of the eye,
To penetrate the windings of the bosom!
Whence did this breath come to thee, O my soul,
Whence this throbbing, O my heart?

~Rumi

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Are You Fleeing?

Where_The_Leaves_Die_by_Gwarf

Are you fleeing from Love because of a single humiliation?
What do you know of Love except the name?
Love has a hundred forms of pride and disdain,
and is gained by a hundred means of persuasion.
Since Love is loyal, it purchases one who is loyal:
it has no interest in a disloyal companion.
The human being resembles a tree; its root is a covenant with God:
that root must be cherished with all one’s might.
A weak covenant is a rotten root, without grace or fruit.
Though the boughs and leaves of the date palm are green,
greenness brings no benefit if the root is corrupt.
If a branch is without green leaves, yet has a good root,
a hundred leaves will put forth their hands in the end.

~Rumi

Photo copyright belongs to Gwarf

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Who are you that I
like this
quite confidently
speak my name
with you
put my housekey
in your hands
share the loaf of my happiness
with you
sit next to you
and in your lap
like this
tranquil
fall asleep?

Who are you that I
like this wholeheartedly
in the countries of my dreams
linger with you?

~Ahmad Shamlu

Photo copyright belongs to aNdikapatRya

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dec4276987

The Roommate (همخونه) by Maryam Riahi (مریم ریاحی) is a modern tale about love that doesn’t start at first sight. A young woman in her early twenties lives with her late fathers’ childhood friend, a rich old buisnessman that has an estragned son who’s in his late twenties.

In her last year of college the old man whom she looks upon as a father has a request. It’s not an easy one, at first he asks her if she trusts him, which she does, then if she will do as he asks, which she will, and then he tells her that  he wants her to meet his son Shahab. This startles her at first, but when she meets him, things change.

When they finally meet on a late hot summers day in the old man’s garden he comes across as manly, not handsome in an ordinary way but handsome in the way that he draws you toward him and bewitches you with his dark almond shaped eyes (her words not mine).

But don’t think that it’s all a nice ride from there, many complications occur and it’s not likely that they will have an happy ending. I was thinking about translating the book into english and publishing bits and pieces here. Would you like that?

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azar nafisi

So I’ve started reading Azar Nafisi’s book “Reading Lolita In Tehran” and I’ve got about half the book left. In her group of students there are every type of young women that occur in Iran, the religious one, the one that has to obey her parents, the one that is a prisoner of her brother, the one with the modern husband, the one with the dreams, the spinster and the divorced one. They are all very different and yet very similar in the way that they all want the freedom to be themselves, something that most people in free countries take for granted.

Many of my cousins, aunts, friends and other relatives that are living in Iran are in the same situation. Some aren’t allowed to socialize with people that aren’t related to them, others have to hand over their cellphone every now and then so that their male relatives can check if a man calls them and some aren’t allowed to work because they will bring shame on the family.

Someone has to stand up and break the circle. The “you have destroyed our honour” speech is getting old.

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So they say that you should atleast give a book 50 pages before you stop reading it. I gave this one 51 pages and then it got dropped! It’s a modern classic and I bet many people love this story and the author but the whole melodrama theme isn’t something that would be good for me to read in the long run.

I would probably have ended up like the character in the book if I had flipped the page over to number 52.

For more info about the author: Sadegh Hedayat

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