Iranian poet, fiction writer and peace activist, Rira Abbasi was born in 1962 in Khorramabad, Iran. Acclaimed as Iran’s Lady Poet Laureate and the winner of Parvin Etesami Poetry Award in 2005, Rira is also a member of Iran’s Writers Association and the director of the biannual International Peace Poetry festival since 2007. Black Fairy of … Continued
Iranian poet, fiction writer and peace activist, Rira Abbasi was born in 1962 in Khorramabad, Iran. Acclaimed as Iran’s Lady Poet Laureate and the winner of Parvin Etesami Poetry Award in 2005, Rira is also a member of Iran’s Writers Association and the director of the biannual International Peace Poetry festival since 2007. Black Fairy of Wednesday (2000), No More Guns for this Lor Woman (2001) and her bold collection of love poems Who Loves You More Discreetly? (2002) are among her works. Rira has edited and brought out the first collection of Iranian Peace Poetry (an anthology) in 2002.
Had the Sky Been Blue
My friend, sitting on my little shoulders, Iranian, Bosnian, Iraqi, Afghan…. my friend for the same of your smile my shoulders are born every morning early to remove your wounds although they have shut your smile with gunpowder perhaps in the absence of the first war, second war third or the last one. My friend when you let your silent fly and you spoke at a distance, the size of one thousand part of the ant’s wing then all the bombs in the world will grew silent in front of you. we all know you are alive beyond the natural strength of man when in the plan you are returning home tired, wounded and abandoned. Which home are you returning? When the sky is empty of peace and the prevailing war is tearing away your newborn’s eye until the end of his life I grieve for your future I grieve for the future. I am tired but I worry for your future… I draw a nucleus from the atoms of wounds your body is thin tomorrow tomorrow I will get my shoulders born wider for the same of your smile had the sky been blue.
Translated by M. Alexandrian
Me or the Mouse
Shush! Don’t say anything to anyone I pulled out bread from the mouth of a mouse It was war I wanted bread and the mouse wanted life
Translation: Maryam Ala Amjadi
The “Call” of Iran’s Poetry
I have no right to write poetry Leaves fall off my shoulder There comes a voice I have no right to write Do you still not believe that leaves do fall? I said I am in silence that my tongue… Look now on the other side of the street is silence leaves fall bad leaves, worse leaves I have no right to write poetry the tongue is surrounded with teeth and the lifted neck of this “call” is a bullet for goodbye!
Mourning of what gun? We die They go on
I could draw a dove entailed to Picasso and destroy it with Cubism So that it turns out to be a bull with fatal horns
To peace, to release is the share of this field One must either merge or ravage it
Translation: Maryam Ala Amjadi
Poets of Peace
We, children of the world, With USA, have a word, We frown, We demur, We Protest: No more war in the world: It’s enough. It’s enough. What dreams, we have at nights! What horror dreams! What, if daddy is wounded? What is our home in dull? Dear Angela, say please now O’ children of the world, What Can I say to us? I’m ashamed to say, where I come from. They took daddy to the front They forced daddy to fight With whom is he fighting? Who can answer my question?
O’ daddy, remember! Never entered in my room Without knocking at the door O’ children of the world! I’m ashamed, when I see. Like a wolf in Baghdad streets, Daddy is wandering with dwarf Uncle Sam, Wreck the doors of the houses, With their nail–shaped boots. O’ children, tell the world: Does a toothless baby have a gun? O’ children, I’m ashamed. When I see daddy. Ruins the houses. Kills mothers and babies, O’ children! O’ children! How can I say where I come from? I’m ashamed I’m upset.
We children of the world, With USA have a word. Every land has a treasure. Gold and iron and steel, Tobacco, sugar, oil, and wheat Grapes, dates, olives, and endless seas In children’s world, Everything has a worth. Their flags has a color, has a shape, has a star, has a moon. With smiling orange sun Watch the cartoons! Watch the animals in jungles! The mouse and the cat are kind, They love their children. Shame on you! Getting a piece of bread is not hard. It needs no gun and no fight. Every house has a door and window. Daddy, mommy and their kids,
They need peace and comfort, Children need to study, to be happy, Watch football games, pretty flowers, and swim. They want to grow up, They hate bad dreams, They want to think, They like to fly like swallows, Having a green branch in their mouth. Fly high and plant olives on the moon. Let’s be kind to each other, No matter how much bread, how many children Appreciate each other, Sing with a healthy soul: We need no more bread, not a big belly. We need no guns, no wounded men in fights, Hostility is meaningless. If we are friends, If we are good neighbors We can borrow; we can lend water and bread We need no war! Why are rockets expensive?
The Voices Education Project offers tools, philosophies, and learning methods that will help young people understand the roots of conflict and the trauma of war, confront the pain and fear at the heart of conflict, and help to build healthy human communities in the wake of war. We use the arts and education to transform the consciousness of young people, give teachers and students a way to explore the most important and terrifying issues of our day, and create a dialogue in which all voices can be heard, and all points of view included, without engendering fear, hatred, or anger.