Umid Najjari "For those killed in the Iranian Revolution"

 

Umid Najjari was born on 15th of April 1989 in Tabriz (Iran). After graduating from Islamic Azad University of Tabriz in 2016, he entered Baku Aurasia University to continue his studies in Philology in Republic of Azerbaijan. “The land of the birds” and “Beyond the walls” are among his published works in addition to some translations. His poems have been published in USA, Canada, Spain, Italy, India, Turkey, Uzbekistan, Iraq, Kazakhstan, Georgia, Chile and Iranian media. He was awarded the International LIFFT festival diploma in 2019. He achieved “IWA Bogdani” Award in 2021. He was awarded the “Mihai Eminescu” Award in 2022. He was awarded the International Prize “Medal Alexandre The Great” in 2022. He is Vice-President of the BOGDANI international writers’ association, with headquarters in Brussels and Pristina. and Turkic World Young Authors Association.

---

For those killed in the Iranian Revolution

*

For which war do my hairs don a white shroud?

Do the soldiers who cry out love still live?!

There is silence at the front.

My teeth ache as they raise the white flag,

The homeland aches,

Humanity weeps.

The lines that fall upon my brow—

the barbed wires of which country are they?

They separate love from separation,

They separate hope from death,

They separate the days,

They separate the nights…

At twilight, someone wipes the sweat from my forehead,

Someone sings the Song of Freedom in Saat Square,

Someone, in intensive care, is still breathing,

There is silence at the front…

Silence…

*

Per quale guerra i miei capelli indossano il sudario bianco?

Vivono ancora i soldati che gridano l’amore?!

C’è silenzio al fronte.

Mi dolgono i denti che innalzano la bandiera bianca,

Dà dolore la Patria,

Piange l’Uomo.

Le linee che solcano la mia fronte

sono i fili spinati di quale paese?

Separano l’amore dalla separazione,

Separano la speranza dalla morte,

Separano i giorni,

Separano le notti…

Nel crepuscolo qualcuno asciuga il sudore dalla mia fronte,

Qualcuno canta il Canto della Libertà in Piazza Saat,

Qualcuno, in rianimazione, respira ancora,

C’è silenzio al fronte…

Silenzio…

*

Voor welke oorlog dragen mijn haren een wit lijkkleed? Leven de soldaten die de liefde uitschreeuwen nog?! Er heerst stilte aan het front. Mijn tanden doen pijn terwijl zij de witte vlag hijsen, Het vaderland lijdt, De mens huilt. De lijnen die over mijn voorhoofd vallen — van welk land zijn dit de prikkeldraden? Zij scheiden liefde van afscheid, Zij scheiden hoop van de dood, Zij scheiden de dagen, Zij scheiden de nachten… In de schemering wist iemand het zweet van mijn voorhoofd, Iemand zingt het Lied van de Vrijheid op het Saat-plein, Iemand ademt nog steeds op de intensive care, Er heerst stilte aan het front… Stilte…

*

Pour quelle guerre mes cheveux revêtent-ils un linceul blanc ?

Les soldats qui crient l’amour vivent-ils encore ?!

Le silence règne au front.

Mes dents me font mal en levant le drapeau blanc,

La Patrie souffre,

L’Homme pleure.

Les lignes qui tombent sur mon front —

les fils barbelés de quel pays sont-elles ?

Elles séparent l’amour de la séparation,

Elles séparent l’espoir de la mort,

Elles séparent les jours,

Elles séparent les nuits…

Au crépuscule, quelqu’un essuie la sueur de mon front,

Quelqu’un chante le Chant de la Liberté sur la Place Saat,

Quelqu’un, en réanimation, respire encore,

Le silence règne au front…

Le silence…

Umid Najjari