{"product_id":"belonging-isbn-9781556437120","title":"Belonging","description":"Recent political developments, including the shadow of a new war, have obscured the fact that Iran has a long and splendid artistic tradition ranging from the visual arts to literature. Western readers may have some awareness of the Iranian novel thanks to a few breakout successes like \u003ci\u003eReading Lolita in Tehran\u003c\/i\u003e and \u003ci\u003eMy Uncle Napoleon\u003c\/i\u003e, but the country's strong poetic tradition remains little known. This anthology remedies that situation with a rich selection of recent poetry by Iranians living all around the world, including Amir-Hossein Afrasiabi: “Although the path \/ tracks my footsteps, \/ I don’t travel it \/ for the path travels me.” Varying dramatically in style, tone, and theme, these expertly translated works include erotic divertissements by Ziba Karbassi, rigorously formal poetry by Yadollah Royaii, experimental poems by Naanaam, powerful polemics by Maryam Huleh, and the personal-epic work of Shahrouz Rashid. Eclectic and accessible, these vibrant poems deepen the often limited awareness of Iranian identity today by not only introducing readers to contemporary Iranian poetry, but also expanding the canon of significant writing in the Persian language. \u003ci\u003eBelonging \u003c\/i\u003eoffers a glimpse at a complex culture through some of its finest literary talents.Introduction xiii\u003cbr\u003eNotes on Selection xxiii\u003cbr\u003eNotes on Translation xxv\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003eAmir-Hossein Afrasiabi, b. 1934 (The Netherlands) \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003eRed Rose 1\u003cbr\u003eRed Rose 2\u003cbr\u003eThe Grayest Port \u003cbr\u003eGhosts \u003cbr\u003eTwo Poems \u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003eMina Assadi, b. 1943 (Sweden) \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003eYearning for Saari 1 \u003cbr\u003eSketch 4 \u003cbr\u003eSketch 13 \u003cbr\u003eSketch 25 \u003cbr\u003eWaking Dreams 3 \u003cbr\u003eWaking Dreams 6 \u003cbr\u003eWaking Dreams 7\u003cbr\u003eBecause of Boredom 21\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003eNader Naderpour, 1929—2000 (U.S.) \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003eConversation in the Dark \u003cbr\u003ePoint and Line \u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003eYadollah Roya’i, b. 1932 (France) \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003eName Stone \u003cbr\u003eBosom Stones (3) \u003cbr\u003eLipbrimmings (4) \u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003eEsma’il Kho’i, b. 1938 (U.K.) \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003eTo the Aged Mulberry Branch \u003cbr\u003eIn a Thousand Years \u003cbr\u003eSong \u003cbr\u003eLosing \u003cbr\u003eImage of Kindness \u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003ePartow Nooriala, b. 1946 (U.S.) \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMany Happy Returns \u003cbr\u003eFour Springs \u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003eMajid Naficy, b. 1952 (U.S.) \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003eNarcissus Flower \u003cbr\u003eNight \u003cbr\u003eTo a Snail \u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003eAbbas Saffari, b. 1951 (U.S.) \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003eTomorrow \u003cbr\u003eA Bird Is a Bird \u003cbr\u003eSaturday Night Dinner \u003cbr\u003eRevenge \u003cbr\u003eTanka for Loneliness \u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003eReza Farmand, b. 1956 (Denmark) \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMy Mother Did Not Become Beautiful (excerpt) \u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003eSaghi Ghahraman, b. 1957 (Canada) \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe Dead Dear One \u003cbr\u003eI Hang Myself \u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003eJamshid Moshkani, b. 1958 (Sweden) \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBook of Fears 1 \u003cbr\u003eBook of Fears 27 \u003cbr\u003eBook of Fears 30 \u003cbr\u003eBook of Fears 41 \u003cbr\u003eBook of Fears 45 \u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003eBehzad Keshmiripour, b. 1958 (Germany) \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIf You Danced the Wind \u003cbr\u003eBarefoot on Nightvelvet \u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003eShahrouz Rashid, b. 1960 (Germany\/U.S.) \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSeasonless Years (excerpt) \u003cbr\u003eDownfall on the Horizon (excerpt) \u003cbr\u003eIcarus (excerpt) \u003cbr\u003eLetter to Father \u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003eNaanaam, b. 1966 (Canada) \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003eUntitled 19 \u003cbr\u003eOne Must Not Sleep with Juliet and Not Be Romeo 37 \u003cbr\u003eAntiPoem 2 \u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003eGranaz Moussavi, b. 1973 (Australia) \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMoving Sale \u003cbr\u003ePost-Cinderella \u003cbr\u003eHalf-Bottle \u003cbr\u003eSong of a Forbidden Woman \u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003eZiba Karbassi, b. 1974 (U.K.) \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003eGravequake \u003cbr\u003eLove Is Lemony \u003cbr\u003eRevolution \u003cbr\u003eSong of Ruin \u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003eMaryam Huleh, b. 1978 (Sweden) \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe Sticky Dream of a Banished Butterfly (excerpt) \u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003eMana Aghaee, b. 1973 (Sweden) \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMy Death \u003cbr\u003eCome What May \u003cbr\u003eWoman Seeking Man \u003cbr\u003eMajnun \u003cbr\u003eTree \u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003ePartial List of Iranian Poets around the World \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003eAcknowledgments \u003c\/b\u003e“Niloufar Talebi’s accomplishment in gathering the poetry of the Iranian diaspora  is unprecedented and breathtaking. It is as if she has, by force of commitment and  vision, and by way of cultural hunger, bequeathed a new literary heritage to Iran  and the world. Here is a lyric symphony of utterance in the voices of exiles, immigrants,  refugees, and expatriates. That Talebi assembled such an extraordinary collection  is impressive enough—that she translated most of these poems herself is nothing short  of remarkable.”\u003cbr\u003e —Carolyn Forché, editor of \u003ci\u003eAgainst Forgetting: Twentieth Century  Poetry of Witness\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “In \u003ci\u003eBelonging\u003c\/i\u003e, with literary skill and passion, Niloufar Talebi  has made a major contribution to the recognition of contemporary Iranian literature  in the West, to the appreciation of diaspora poetry by Persian speakers everywhere,  and to the important project of producing good translations from rich but underrepresented  literary canons for the anglophone reader.”\u003cbr\u003e —Nahid Mozaffari, editor of the \u003ci\u003ePEN Anthology  of Contemporary Iranian Literature\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Poetry is a world art because of brilliant editors  and translators like Niloufar Talebi ... Here are the poets, in all their power,  defiance, dignity, wildness, and lyric grace, scattered across the earth, yet united  in this book. Here is proof that poetry humanizes: now contemporary Persian culture  has a face, and the Persian tongue a voice, for those of us in the English-speaking  world, and we are all richer for it.”\u003cbr\u003e —Martín Espada, Pulitzer Prize nominee and  author of \u003ci\u003eThe Republic of Poetry\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “After reading her introduction and the first few  sections of \u003ci\u003eBelonging\u003c\/i\u003e, I realized that Talebi had accomplished perhaps the greatest  service that a translator of Iranian poetry for American audiences can provide: she  made the Iranian poetic landscape feel familiar. Not only familiar, but modern, full  of laughter, rich with wonder, completely joyful and terrible and worthy of revisiting  multiple times.\"\u003cbr\u003e —Peter Conners, \u003ci\u003eThree Percent\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Niloufar Talebi has accomplished  the ultimate magic trick in her clean and modern translation. She has made the work  of modern Persian poets read like original English ... an unparalled contribution.”\u003cbr\u003e —Willis Barnstone, author of \u003ci\u003eWith Borges on an Ordinary Evening in Buenos Aires\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003e “The poems speak of lost places and missing people; of  the fear and freedom that come with new surroundings; of love, sex, and  passion; of prison and protest; of the commonplace and the universal;  and of subjects classical, political, and taboo… In form and imagery  these poems often allude to works of Persian classical literature, but  they are also the heirs of Rimbaud, Lorca, Dante, Shakespeare, and the  literatures of adopted countries… Talebi’s translation process included  thorough review and collaboration with the poets themselves… While one  can always find phrases with which to quibble, the translations are of  consistently high quality… not only do the poems work in English, but  they adhere closely to the originals in tone, content, and format.”\u003cbr\u003e —\u003ci\u003eHarvard Review Online Journal\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003e “If you will trust me though, and don't want to read my justification, you can know  that this is simply one of those books you need to have on your shelves, one you  can look for and find at a party, and hand to one of your closer American friends  and smilingly say, ‘Here Bradley, this will explain everything!’”\u003cbr\u003e —Iranian.com\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"This  collection is impressive by making a good sample of contemporary Iranian poets in  the diaspora so beautifully accessible to English readers and by presenting them  so deservingly as a part of world literature today.\"\u003cbr\u003e —\u003ci\u003eWorld Literature Today Magazine\u003c\/i\u003eNiloufar Talebi founded The Translation Project (www.thetranslationproject.org), whose mission is to bring contemporary Iranian literature to worldwide audiences in multiple languages and media. She lives in San Francisco. Zack Rogow has translated Colette's \u003ci\u003eGreen Wheat, \u003c\/i\u003eMarcel Pagnol's play \u003ci\u003eMarius, \u003c\/i\u003eand other works. Dan O’Connell is an award-winning poet and the author of \u003ci\u003eDifferent Coasts\u003c\/i\u003e, a full-length collection of poetry on the theme of alienation.\u003ci\u003e \u003c\/i\u003e\u003cb\u003eShahrouz Rashid \u003c\/b\u003ewas born in the northeastern part of Iran, in Fars-Abad of Dashte Moghan near the Caspian sea in 1960 to a tribal family. He believes living a nomadic life, with its spirit of transience and innate lyricism, has profoundly affected his poetry. He left for Germany in 1984. He is the author of more than ten books of poetry, prose, and translations, including poetry books \u003ci\u003eBerlin Elegies, Circles and Never, \u003c\/i\u003eand \u003ci\u003eThe Book of Never. \u003c\/i\u003eHe is the editor of an online literary magazine, \u003ci\u003eKetabe Siavash. \u003c\/i\u003eHis work has been translated into German and Swedish. A CD of his poetry set to music is called \u003ci\u003eLanding.\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThough his work is not political, it has a social conscience. His profound awareness of his exile does not narrow his poetic potential, but it endows him with a historical context. Rashid is of the generation whose youth was spent on the revolution—without the desired results—but the tumultuous events of his early adulthood do not limit the scope of his work; instead they leave traces for the reader, echoes of historic events in the scenes he creates. Iran’s rich poetic history, both its classical and modern poetry, is a significant tradition for a poet to emerge from. Rashid not only gives us poetic elements such as attention to language, imagery, and symbol, but beyond creating beauty in lyric form, he gives us ideas.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eRashid came of age after he left his country, equipped with references of both his Eastern and Western lives. He claims the Western literary and historical tradition as his own and at his disposal as they shape his work. In his poems, he addresses Dante in a journey to hell, as Dante conjured Virgil as his companion. He writes of Hamlet, Shakespeare and borrows from Hafez, Rimbaud, Marx, Shamlou, the Bible, the Koran, the myth of Sisyphus, the myth of Icarus.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHis is a personal-epic poem, a blend of what Eastern-Islamic and Western-Greek cultural imaginations present him to deliver us what speaks to our blended imagination.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Seasonless Years,” “Downfall on the Horizon,” and “Icarus” are excerpts from three long poems, narratives about falling, both vertically and horizontally.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003eSeasonless Years\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e(excerpt)\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003eWe have landed from the heights of our flight\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003eAnd there is no seed by the trap\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003eNeglect and vanity have cultivated our lives\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003eEven our sleep doesn’t benefit from our fatigue\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003eOur mending ways rot under the audacious sun\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003eCharting our separation is an age-old habit.\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003eSterile wounds, we will not be avenged.\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eYesterday\u003cbr\u003eYesterday\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eYesterday\u003cbr\u003eYesterday has us memorized.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eDo you remember\u003cbr\u003eWhen we blindfolded night\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWith my purple scarf?\u003cbr\u003eAnd in our dreams ran toward a sea\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWithout a shore?\u003cbr\u003eIt dawned because of our mischief\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003efive hours early,\u003cbr\u003eDo you remember?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI am not the restraint of forty dervishes\u003cbr\u003eNor is the earth a meager sheath.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe stars and the senate do not obey us,\u003cbr\u003eFor we are not Caesars.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWe are the red rose in the wine tavern\u003cbr\u003eOn nights of avarice, in hellish cities.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWho made you into such a locust\u003cbr\u003eThat you chew yourself, chew,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eChew and spit\u003cbr\u003eYourself onto passersby\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIn the stammering day?\u003cbr\u003eIn square rooms\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eInfinitely reflected,\u003cbr\u003eA poet is on fire.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003eDownfall on the Horizon\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e(excerpt)\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003eAt times, at dusk you see a man\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003eStanding on his terrace\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003eHeavy-headed, with a bitter mouth and lost words\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003eStaring at passing colors\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003eIn the impenetrable narcotic air.\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003eCould you, for a second,\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003eIn the flustered flow of a fall river,\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003eAddress his ceramic eyes?\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003eCould you?\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI am tired.\u003cbr\u003eI wish I could become a bench this afternoon\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eOn this thirteenth bright-eyed weariness,\u003cbr\u003eCatch my breath, leave the body\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eTo become a drop of stone, hard, released, cold\u003cbr\u003eAnd appeal to earth, dreaming of snow.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSomething is always forgotten in the empty house.\u003cbr\u003eA little thing like a small mirror,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eA freckle-faced doll, a piece of agate,\u003cbr\u003eA line of poetry on the hem of a floral handkerchief.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eA small thing,\u003cbr\u003eKeeper of smells and memories.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eA few people always remain outside the circle.\u003cbr\u003eThere is always one person weeping in the wet abandoned\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eFields in the sting of a white December.\u003cbr\u003eThere is always one person denying his country\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eRefusing to be the guardian of a crestfallen land,\u003cbr\u003eErrant on disinherited earth.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThere is always one person stretching to smell the red rose\u003cbr\u003eIn the steepest slopes, in the state of descent.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAll seats are taken\u003cbr\u003eAnd there is no room to sit.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI will sit on the loins of a stone\u003cbr\u003eUnder the shadow of a thistle\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eOn the edge of the pit that separates us\u003cbr\u003eAnd I will watch the world’s little characters and heroes\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIn days lost in fog\u003cbr\u003eIn nights narrowed by rain,\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAnd I shall weep the flares of your pain\u003cbr\u003eIn the verses of a winter’s solstice.","brand":"North Atlantic Books","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46300063236325,"sku":"NP9781556437120","price":18.95,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9781556437120.jpg?v=1767722412","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/es\/products\/belonging-isbn-9781556437120","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}