Wednesday, December 07, 2005
189. شعري با ياد ِ "ناديا انجمن"، شاعربانوي افغاني
"شهرت طلبي، بي هنري، دوني چندكردند جهان را به جهنّم مانند
صد بار زمين به خون ِ مردم شد تر
تا نام ِ فلان بن فلان گشت بلند!"
(ناديا انجمن)
"من نه آن بيد ِ ضعيفم كه ز هر باد بلرزم
دخت ِ افغانم و برجاست كه دايم به فغانم!"
يادداشت:
چند هفته پيش، با اندوه فراوان اين خبر هولناك را در رسانه ها خوانديم كه ناديا انجمن، شاعربانوي بيست و پنج ساله ي افغاني و مادر ِ كودكي شش ماهه، در شهر ِ هرات به دست آدمي نمايي ديوسرشت كه عنوان "شوهر" داشت، به شيوه اي فجيع به خون درغلتانيده شده است!
مجيد نفيسي، شاعر، ادب شناس و پژوهنده ي ِ "شهربند" ِ لُس آنجلس متاثّر از اين رويداد هولناك نامردمانه و زن ستيزانه، شعر زير را به دو روايت فارسي و انگليسي نشرداده است كه هر دو را باسپاس از مجيد، براي ِ بزرگداشت ياد ِ شاعربانوي قرباني ي ِ ناداني و تباهكاري و مردسالاري، در اين صفحه مي آورم. ج. د.
My poem has the scent of Nadia
In memory of Nadia Anjuman
When I light the oven early morning
My bread looks like Dari poetry
I find its starter in my dreams
And I knead it between asleep and waking.
My wheat comes from the land of Toos
Where Ferdowsi spread its seeds,
And my poppy seeds from the valley of Yamgan
Where Naser Khosrow planted their roots,
And my oven pebbles from the banks of Amoo River
Where Roodaki called them soft as silk,
And my firewood from the grove of Balkh reeds
Where Rumi kept the fire of his love.
But when I take it out of the oven
It looks like a Sangak bread
Shaped as a Woman in her chadour,
Shouting voicelessly:
"It's me,
The poet of 'Dark Flower,
'Ravaged by my stepped-husband in Herat."
My bread looks like Dari poetry
Perfumed with the scent of Nadia.
If you want it hot and fresh
Put your hand in the fire.
November 15, 2005
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* Dari Persian poetry began in the 9th century in the great Khorasan region. Today this area is divided among Iran, Afghanistan, Tajikistan and some Turkish central Asian countries. The four classical Persian poets whose names are mentioned in the poem as well as Nadia Anjuman all come from that region.
In memory of Nadia Anjuman
When I light the oven early morning
My bread looks like Dari poetry
I find its starter in my dreams
And I knead it between asleep and waking.
My wheat comes from the land of Toos
Where Ferdowsi spread its seeds,
And my poppy seeds from the valley of Yamgan
Where Naser Khosrow planted their roots,
And my oven pebbles from the banks of Amoo River
Where Roodaki called them soft as silk,
And my firewood from the grove of Balkh reeds
Where Rumi kept the fire of his love.
But when I take it out of the oven
It looks like a Sangak bread
Shaped as a Woman in her chadour,
Shouting voicelessly:
"It's me,
The poet of 'Dark Flower,
'Ravaged by my stepped-husband in Herat."
My bread looks like Dari poetry
Perfumed with the scent of Nadia.
If you want it hot and fresh
Put your hand in the fire.
November 15, 2005
-----------------------------------------
* Dari Persian poetry began in the 9th century in the great Khorasan region. Today this area is divided among Iran, Afghanistan, Tajikistan and some Turkish central Asian countries. The four classical Persian poets whose names are mentioned in the poem as well as Nadia Anjuman all come from that region.
