{"id":173,"date":"2016-09-10T16:50:25","date_gmt":"2016-09-10T13:50:25","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.nasrinparvaz.org\/web\/?p=173"},"modified":"2016-09-10T16:50:25","modified_gmt":"2016-09-10T13:50:25","slug":"dear-fahimeh","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.nasrinparvaz.org\/web\/2016\/09\/10\/dear-fahimeh\/","title":{"rendered":"Dear Fahimeh"},"content":{"rendered":"

Translation by Hubert Moore<\/a>, Nasrin Parvaz<\/a><\/h4>\n

That day,
\nthat hot day in July,
\nwhen the Evin loudspeakers
\ncalled out your beautiful name and your lips
\nsmiled, your eyes said to your friends,
\n‘So today is the day.’<\/p>\n

You went and your walk
\nwas a perfume filling the corridor.
\nEveryone gasped, everyone asked with their eyes,
\n‘Is today then the day?’ The Pasdar
\nflung back an answer : ‘Where is her bag?
\nWhere are her veil, her socks, her money?’<\/p>\n

A rumour went round that you’d given a sign
\nthat yes, today was the day :
\n‘I don’t need my food,’ you had said.<\/p>\n

So tonight is the night.
\nA silence hangs in the heart of it.
\nFriends look at friends and tell themselves
\nthat perhaps you’ll come back.<\/p>\n

Fahimeh dear, tell us, spare
\na word for your friends. Is
\nthe sky sad where you are, does it weep?
\nAnd the wind, does it ruffle your veil?
\nBack here, the ward sweats for your news.<\/p>\n

And a message gets through :
\nwind-blown breathless dandelion
\ncomes from the mountains to say that clouds
\nare massing up there and they’re big with child.<\/p>\n

Head held high, you are standing and waiting for this,
\nfor the clouds to open, for you
\nto be mother of change.<\/p>\n

Rifles crack.
\nThe moorland holds its breath
\nat a star shooting across it.<\/p>\n

It would be good to sing and go with friends
\nto face the firing squad, to dance,
\nto float in the rain.<\/p>\n

In the long sea-silence,
\na wave lifts, oars clip at the water.<\/p>\n

A young fisherman bringing his boat to land,
\nrice-growers trudging home,
\nthey shape their lips to your name.<\/p>\n

Your name is beautiful for young girls born in July.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Seen on Between the Languages, Series 3 No. 4<\/a><\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Translation by Hubert Moore, Nasrin Parvaz That day, that hot day in July, when the Evin loudspeakers called out your beautiful name and your lips smiled, your eyes said to your friends, ‘So today is the day.’<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[5],"tags":[6,21,11],"class_list":["post-173","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-poetry","tag-poetry","tag-resistance","tag-translation"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.nasrinparvaz.org\/web\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/173","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.nasrinparvaz.org\/web\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.nasrinparvaz.org\/web\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.nasrinparvaz.org\/web\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.nasrinparvaz.org\/web\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=173"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/www.nasrinparvaz.org\/web\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/173\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":174,"href":"https:\/\/www.nasrinparvaz.org\/web\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/173\/revisions\/174"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.nasrinparvaz.org\/web\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=173"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.nasrinparvaz.org\/web\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=173"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.nasrinparvaz.org\/web\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=173"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}