samedi 11 novembre 2023

IRAN BURMA CUBA. AND I LOVE THEM

I PROBABLY LOVE THESE THREE FAVOURITE COUNTRIES FOR SIMILAR REASON

THEIR CITIZENS LACK FREEDOM 


I have lived in Cuba, have visited Burma/Birmanie/Birmania/Myanmar numerous times (I have even been given a Burmese name, U Aung Kant) and have been obsessively in love with Iran since I was 6 years old and the flame lit again in 2012

All three countries possess odible power-hungry men at the helm, one in the name of God (I am sure she would not like it ! Haha), another in the name of human enlightenment of Marx and Engels and the third one in the name of sheer hunger for power and domination .

You have freedom, I am repeatedly told. This freedom is not lightly interpreted, it is not the freedom to shop at different supermarkets nor the freedom to go to the airport and catch a flight nor the freedom to sleep with the woman you love, without obstruction from family or religious police.

All my friends who live in these three countries, understand the concept of FREEDOM. I can pursue the dream (s) in my head without the headache of Visa, financial aid, IELTS.. all I need is the staunch desire in my heart.

While at least one of the above countries, their leaders at least, is bent on destroying my people, my love and respect for the educated class and especially the women of that country is at an all-time high. I can only say I love You, a concept which is global and holistic in the context of my freedom and your lack of freedom


Winter [Is Here]

No “hello” is reciprocated, chins are upon the chests1

No one dares heading up to greet and meet friends

Hard to see where next steps fall

As the road is dark, slippery

Hands are buried deep down the pockets

Not happy to come out and shake

Your friendly hand stretched toward them

Frost bites so hard

 

Frost turns warm chest’s breath into a dark cloud

Walls the eyes

When the breath is so [treacherous]

What do you expect of friends and acquaintances?!!

O my gallant messiah, my soiled-cloth old clergy

So treacherous is the frost … Ah!

 

Be the one who replies my hello, open the door

It’s me, guest of each and every night, the sad-faced gypsy

The kicked-out, hurting rock

The cheap cuss of genesis, the misfit tune

Neither silver white, nor jet black, the very deeply void of color

Come on, open the door, My heart is so heavy

 

O feast buddy! O host! The visitor of many months and years shivers at your door!

It is neither hailstorm not death

Should you hear a sound, it is [my] teeth talking to the frost!

 

I'm here tonight, to pay my debt

Right next to the [wine’s] cup

Stop telling “too late, already dawn, sun rose!”

Sky lies! This is not the red sky after dawn!

O feast buddy! It's my frost-bitten ear,red from the winter's frosty slap

And the icicle of sky, dead or alive

Is hidden in the thick multi-ply casket of darkness

O feast buddy! Light up the party with wine! Day or night!

 

No “hello” is reciprocated,

Gloomy is the air, chins are upon chests, hands buried in pockets

Breathes become cloud, hearts are weary and heavy

Trees are skeletons cut by thousand daggers of ice crystals

Earth, dead in heart, heaven dome, lying low

Dust soils moon and sun

Winter is here!

 

  • 1.
    This famous poem was written after 1953 Iranian coup d'รฉtat that overthrew democratically elected Prime Minister Mohammad Mosaddegh in favour of strengthening the monarchical rule of the Shah, Mohammad Reza Pahlavi on 19 August 1953. Many intellectual and rebels were prosecuted and executed after the coup.



BlueBird

๐‘น๐‘ฐ๐‘ท ๐‘จ๐’“๐’Ž๐’Š๐’•๐’‚ ๐‘ฎ๐’†๐’“๐’‚๐’—๐’‚๐’๐’…, ๐Ÿ๐Ÿ”, ๐‘พ๐’‰๐’ ๐‘ซ๐’Š๐’†๐’… ๐’๐’ ๐‘ถ๐’„๐’• ๐Ÿ๐Ÿ–, ๐Ÿ๐ŸŽ๐Ÿ๐Ÿ‘, ๐‘ญ๐’๐’๐’๐’๐’˜๐’Š๐’๐’ˆ ๐‘จ๐’๐’๐’†๐’ˆ๐’†๐’… ๐‘จ๐’”๐’”๐’–๐’๐’• ๐‘ฉ๐’š ๐‘ฐ๐’“๐’‚๐’๐’Š๐’‚๐’ ๐‘ด๐’๐’“๐’‚๐’๐’Š๐’•๐’š ๐‘ท๐’๐’๐’Š๐’„๐’†

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