Naar ô Ney... *

The pomegranate I bought today comes all the way from Iran. I stared at the address on the big pack in the supermarket for some while, several times taking a glance at the price tag saying exclusively that the exotic delicacy came from Itan... The box had the address written on it and said Shariati Ave. which made me smile bitterly. That is like the second longest street in Tehran, you know?One from the central parts up high to the mountains of the north. Truth be told, I traveled all along this 'Avenue' only once, it took hours and felt like ages, when I finally arrived in the north.

The one pomegranate in the fruit basket on our table has been stuck in the same traffic jam, making its way to the same airport, so it has had almost the same trip, which brought me to this home of mine... 

No wonder why pomegranates symbolize passion, love, longing and yearning in Persian literature and poetry; the longer I smell and stare at the shiny red fruit, the more it feels natural to me. 

There is one fruit on our table now, which looks just like fine poetry...

*The title means 'The Pomegranate and the Flute', it is also the name of a film. Ney is famous for its melancholic music and it is said that since the Phragmites, from which Ney is made, has been cut off and taken away from its home, the instrument keeps singing songs of separation and yearning.

Keep holding me in your Hands...

My mind goes blank

and I forget the taste of the bread I have just eaten,

I forget the bitterness of the sweet wine I drank,

I forget the earth you brought with you all the way;

carrying in the palm of your both hands.

Yet my tears of all these years keep falling down,

drop by drop they quench the earth.

Growth is inevitable, as long as we are still here,

as long as you long for being here,

in front of me, having crossed land and time.

I might have forgotten all,

but still I see the new life blooming in the palm of your hands;

I see and I realize,

I realize your new scars, the new wrinkles on your beloved face,

and I most definitely remember your dashing smile;

the warmth of which my eyes are missing, looking at your face now.

I will always remember, as long as you long for me;

it is the longing, the pain of separation and the love

which will feed the tiny leaves,

growing to be the strongest tree.

It will be our forest, as long as you are still here

as long as my tears still fall into your hands.