my heart shook intractably in my chest
from the entreaty of his imploring eyes
— Forough Farrokhzad
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on love being your homeland
1. amy lowell, the fruit garden path 2. tumblr user @muhtesemz 3. raazi (2018), dir meghna gulzar 4. osama alomar, from "bag of the nation" (trans. c j collins) via @soracities
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The great Persian poet Hafez wrote, "Start seeing everything as God, but keep it a secret." I still have no idea what I mean when I say God, but I see it everywhere. I mean it intensely. I write poems and, yes, books about it. I read about it constantly, which seems, counterintuitively, to only deepen its secret. Close your eyes. Imagine in your head a bladeless knife with no handle. Do you see how the image recedes from view the more language I add to it? A bladeless knife. With no handle.
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Every time I see Rumi's poems in English it breaks my heart because they're always from The Essential Rumi by Coleman Barks, a huckster who doesn't even know Persian and mistranslated and erased Islam from them. The West cannot touch anything without warping it beyond recognition and then hawking it all over the globe to line their own pockets.
I know the translations by AJ Arberry and William Chittock are considered a lot more faithful, but I really want to read one by a scholar from Iran or at least the Middle East. I'm so tired of having to talk to communicate with other Global South cultures through the West.
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OK hot take: When you talk about "national literary canons" or whatever, Britain's is BY FAR the most overrated out of any nation except maybe Germany. Dickens, Trollope, the Bronte sisters, could never fucking stand any of them. I'd say my list of best literary canons by nation would be something like:
America
Russia
Persia
And then Britain is somewhere between Antarctica and Hell.
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If only the wind could touch your lips and bring your kisses to me, but then I should be jealous of the wind and ashamed of myself for asking.
Nizami Ganjavi, in Layla and Majnun.
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Ghalib Life and Letters, translated and edited by Ralph Russell & Khurshidul Islam
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My heart whispered to me once
That one day I will be separated from you
I always knew that day would come and that's why I've always been sorrowful
I would have imagined that we get apart from each other at once,
But I wouldn't have thought that one day you wouldn't even recognize me anymore
What crime did I do that you took yourself away from me?
I had no fault and was innocent .
Why were you overwhelmed by me so soon?
My dear why do you get uninterested so easily?
Who would have expected such disloyalty from you despite my deep loyalty?
When I fell for you, I had no idea you enjoy tormenting
Its a shame , I was unaware how much disloyal you are
Although I experienced such disloyalty from you,
I still believe you are worthy of being called a friend
You think low of me, and imagine me cheap and subtle
Change your way of looking
Poem by Farrukhi Sistani
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rozay ke zarra zarra shavad, ustakhan-e-man
ba shad hanoz dar dil-e-veesham hava e tou
-Amir Khusrau
when my bones are nothing but shattered bits
may my heart carry on its quest of Thee
source
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Chapter 111. Return of Kay Kavus.
Kay Kavus and his army returned to Iran in a giant cloud of dust, and the entire nation partied. Several army commanders showed up to congratulate Kay Kavus on his great victory, and to congratulate Rostam a little more sincerely. But, as Kay Kavus had the sense to pay them their salaries, everyone stayed quite happy and quite loyal.
Continue reading Chapter 111. Return of Kay Kavus.
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Your dress blowing in the wind is a war flag
A call to arms,
to the battleground of your hold
Maryam Asady
پیراهنت در باد پرچم جنگی است
که مرا به میدان ِ تنت میخواند…
مریم اسدی
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