The Love Of Year 2020

I feel I have a Poet lover
Who knows all of my untold poems
When I gave him my last poem
He had read it years ago
My lover is the most important poet I know

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Life
By Morteza Miraftabi
Translated from Persian by: Mahnaz Badihian

Every morning I wake up
With death next to me
Or in the middle of night
Death is in a window ,a mirror
Or a doorway shoulder to
Shoulder with me watches last night’s rain



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The Poet’s Biography
Sub: The biography of Nadia Anjoman, the respected poet of Herat-Afghanistan and a victim of family violence

By: M. Shafie Noorzaei, her brother, lecturer at Herat University (edited by Ren Powell)
Date: Jan 23, 2006

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"There is hidden magic in everyday life." Marina Kalinovsky.


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"It has been three years that I am defending myself with shapes, colours, and words. These paintings are my testimonials for the crime I did not commit," Dilara Darai.


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Translated from Italian by: Cristina Contilli
IN THE NIGHT
Our bodies are melted
in the night;
the dreams blend

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My Heart Carries No Shield

My heart was forged in the fires created between two lovers
It grew and palpitated with desire through my childhood
and was nurtured by the gardens of my parents.
Today it pumps life through these young veins
Bringing sustenance and happiness to every cell and pore.
No shield protects the castle walls of this heart,
which is forever prone to the attacks of the cannons
of Love.



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I picked


I picked

I picked
the warm vapors
of the Autumn
in a sky
veiled of tenderness.

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When everyone is Lonely No One is Lonely

I was one of those people who was never lonely, even in loneliness...how I can be lonely when I don’t know the most accessible person that I know. Life did not leave me a moment to be alone with her to know her.

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Cristina Contilli

Dialogo della notte / Night Dialogue
Translated by Olivia Bisegna Maher


In the afterword to the collection of lines that make up the short poem called “Night dialogue”, the author Cristina Contilli explicitly states that her poetry is dedicated to love relationships that struggle to survive.

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Brother Iran

Brother Iran, I feel your pain.

I feel it as when the Turk fled Spain.

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copied from : the saccharinist
First, the Nobel Prize for Literature went to Orhan Pamuk-- a highly-acclaimed best-selling writer whose most high profile claim to fame has been his condemnation by the Turkish government for being anti-Turkish because he has made a cause for himself (some say merely to gain attention) by preaching that the 1915 genocide of over 1 million Armenians by the Turkish government is a crime that needs to be recognized by the state of Turkey.

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Today I can write
My happiest poem
And I can enjoy birds happy chirps
Seed by seed
Even in this world which is
A Small sad planet

Today every strand of my hair
Is wrapped in a poem And the light
Flashing in my eyes
Brightens my hands
Even in the darkness of
These rushfull days

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Scent of wet earth : Poems by Cristina Contilli
translated by Olivia Bisegna Maher

SCENT OF WET EARTH

My poems,
translated in English
have the same scent as
wet earth in Autumn
after the rain.
a scent that wafts
through my imagination
along with the memories
of those mornings
when, still sleepy,
I opened my eyes wide
sitting at a high school desk.


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End of Era: Mahfouz is Gone


Naguib
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