Nazanin Rahimi
Born on June 29, 1972, Nazanin Rahimi has Master’s degree in Clinical Psychology from Payam-e-Nour University, Tehran and Bachelor of Art in Drama from Azad Islamic University, Tehran branch. She is a freelance writer and poet and author of poetry collection books including ‘Surviving the black city by a little girl like you’; ‘Black eye Little shout’; ‘It is like the wind has gone’; ‘The growth of Sha’mdani underneath my window’; ‘Calm down, darling!’; ‘I feel like happiness’; ‘We are contemporary with the river’ and ‘I have taken sheltered in a suitcase’. She has also authored over 30 articles on different topics including psychoanalytic literary criticism, poetry and fine art. Nazanin is art-therapy & theatre-therapy instructor.
Dying in Varanasi
-Anyway, we must accept that
To justify anything
There should be a scientific explanation-
And for loving you
I take shelter in this poem
Some people go to Varanasi to die
The whales to the shores
And the birds to Peru
To die,
I will come to you
The cells of my body
Dream that
It is winter and the coffee is on the fire
We are sitting on the porch of our house
Under the blanket that you are used to it
Hey dreams, wait!
I have never been a pelican
Are you happy?
We are the owners again,
The owners of our loneliness
The sky of this dreamer cells
Are full of pelicans
How your blanket of loneliness
Becomes warm
With the dream of my Mosaddegh blanket.
***
Broken Vase
Look! This vase, falling on the floor
Shatters into pieces
Like a plundered country
Every night in this city
Several wings are born without birds
And several breaths come to an end in dead-end alleys
When I saw the extinct drops of water on the windowpane
I understood that I am dead, and I am a wing without bird
And from that legend of rain and drunkenness of dead-end alleys
Only a broken vase is left.
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