1.Excerpts from "MEMOIRS OF LIFE"

A brief history of Armenia

Their homeland had stretched from Caspian Sea
To the Anatoly Peninsula and promontory;
At north Pontus mountains and the Black Sea
Were her ancient borders, and at south she
Neighbored with Iran. The Armenian land
Was first formed under Urartu Command.

From the start the land was at continuous war
With Assyrians whose empire had spread far;
Nine decades before the birth of our Lord,
The nation expelled the Assyrian horde.
Then the artful people raised their first towers,
Tilled the fertile soil and fortified their powers.
Then Cyrus in his thirst for world victory
Added the land to his vast inventory
Of regions subjected to Persian rule,
To remain a satrap two decades whole.

The mild Achamanid kings granted much freedom
And let the conquered folk keep their code and custom:
Armenia had prospered during the time,
Farming and trade enhanced in the good clime.
But the late masters put the people in stress
To follow their religion, yet the race
Remained unmixed with the occupation force.

Next Alexander rides triumphant his horse
Into Armenia to capture and to reign;
For two decades the Greeks ruled the domain,
Their golden culture advanced at the time,
Appealed to the folk; touched by the sublime,
The elite were quick to learn the tongue
And explore their literature and their song.

But now Rome emerges dominant at West
And revenges Trojan cause by quick conquest -
Of Greece whose sons had ruined their old empire
And leveled Troy to ground by sword and fire.
Now that the Greeks are defeated by Rome,
Artashes, their governor, revolts from
Their yoke and ruled as king of the nation
Which much flourished, freed of occupation.
The king reconciled the scattered race,
Restored their language and their former grace;
Armenian was proclaimed the official tongue
Of the nation and her army grew strong.
At south the country reached the Egyptian border
And the ruler brought unity and order.

Now Parthians assaulted from south and at west
Rome advanced for universal conquest;
These two empires in endless struggle to sway
Divided Armenia as a common prey.

Was not the land chosen by Noah to park
At her Ararat Mountain his blessed ark?
And lead the people innocent of guilt
To multiply their kind and their home built.
Was not it the land whose generous earth
Gave Adam's descendants a second birth?
Yet this rugged tiny peace of the world vast
Was robed from her owners to scorn her past.

After Artashes many leaders rose
Who to gain the crown, each other did oppose;
Among these Arshaks ascended the throne
And for four centuries governed alone
The kingdom, which was the first to welcome
Jesus disciples and Western custom.
But the relief was short as the Tartars -
Chengiz and Teimour broke all the charters:
The barbarian hordes devastated the land
Slaughtered the folk and leveled homes to ground.

Later Ottoman Turks attacked Armenia
While from south they were contested by Persia;
But Russia took the eastern part from
Persians and added it to their kingdom.
In nineteen fifteen the Ottoman Sultan
Committed great genocide to the Armenian;
He killed a million souls to seize their land
And their houses were ruined by his savage band;
The remaining sought refuge at every shore,
Banished from their homes that they dwelt before...

Description of Village Life:

The honest farmer shall no more till the land,
His cattle will no more at his porch stand,
Nor shall he by tender hands smooth the lawn,
Nor trim the bushy hedge or clean the lane,
Patch the cracked wall and roof, mend a window
And by his endless care beauty bestow.
Nor the village sexton the church bell will chime,
Nor the priest will deliver his holy rhyme;
And the humble, eager folk in hurried pace
Walk towards the church to attend the grace.
***

Description of Church Paintings:

The boys rambled far and saw a big church,
The gate was open and they passed the porch;
The church was a magnificent building
And inside the walls carried the painting
Of Adam's indulgent and guilty race,
Thrown into the hell for bringing disgrace.

Cerberus, the three-headed dog monster,
Tears the sinful throng who'd earned the disaster.
The dreaded hellish brute like a vulture
Puts the helpless miscreants into torture;
Noah is seen standing by his famous ark,
Leading his innocent crew to the bark:
A long line of the Lord's choiciest herd
Of birds and beasts are led by the shepherd.
The raging flood had washed away the guilty race -
Men and women engaged in lawless embrace.
Next they saw the Stygian Lake and the flood
Which in her murky water holds Adam's brood.
Here the city of fire with its eternal flame
Burns the criminals, repentant with shame:
This is the burning town of torture and woe
Which God to the ungrateful man does bestow.
They then observe old father Abraham,
Leading his beloved son to martyrdom;
But before he slays his son there
A white ram stalks to the fatal altar.
Moses standing by dreaded Pharaoh fake
His fabulous cane and turn it to a fearful snake.
And lost they see Jesus Christ, the Lord,
Betrayed by Judas and taken by Herod -
Adorned with a mock crown Jesus follows
His ungrateful tribe to the gallows,
Jesus is crossed by the barbarous horde,
While in mortal pain he prays to the Lord
To forgive the crime of the sinful nation
And save them from eternal damnation.
****

Wisdom of Creation:

Finished were the carefree days of childhood
When he roamed in the fields bent on his mood.
There was no rule but the rule of nature
Which served as his guide as well as teacher.
On her benevolent breast mother earth
Nurses the creatures she has given birth.
Ask her why a flower's seed dead in winter
Blossoms in the spring by the best painter?
What discipline is taught to the busy bee
To divide her brood to different category;
One serves as simple worker, one as a soldier,
One repairs the hive and one is the builder:
They labor in fields, suck the vital fluid,
Which is necessary to make their food,
And store the juice in the hive with good reason,
To feed themselves in cold winter season.
The wild horse living in its native haunt,
Roams freely and drinks from the silver fount.
Is the animal bred to be caught and tamed
By man, and toil for the labor he has framed?
The homely swallow builds her horny nest high
At your porch or on a handy post near the sky:
She leaves her nest guided by a latent mentor
And flies to distant regions to pass the winter.
Her offspring returning the long way next spring
Comes to the deserted town and the same dwelling.
What heavenly compass is put in her head?
And what instinct the bird to her nest lead?
Or the moon which circles around the earth
Or the earth that rotates around her hearth,
And the burning sun along with her flock
Bent on her eternal course on a fixed track:
Say, what power controls their celestial pace
And what wisdom prevents a fatal collapse?
*****

Description of Iran's Past:

The railway had been built by Pahlavi founder
And the smart wagons were neat and shining;
The land had been feudal and sunk under
The Qajars who couldn't prevent the declining
Of the empire which once at one border
Reached India - the other, Darius the king,
Had pushed to Grecian borders and the black sea
And ruled all the nations in a confederacy.

The empire was built by Cyrus, the great king,
Whose grand army had defeated Babylon;
Other lands he had also seized and did bring
Enormous wealth to Persia and the sun
Shined glorious on the vast empire. The king
Fell in a fierce battle in a wild region
At north. Cambyse, his son, marched towards west
And Egypt was taken by swift conquest.

But it was Darius who brought order
To the nations subjected to his reign:
A large road he built which reached the border
And connected satraps of the domain
To Persepolis which was built to further
The vast kingdom's grandeur and to remain
The center of the empire. Its high towers
Were guarded by his immortals at all hours.

Thus the empire prospered and contested
With the Grecians that rivaled at the West,
Till grudging her splendor they devastated
The large kingdom by a surprise inward thrust:
Led by Alexander the army wasted
Persepolis and this marked Persian conquest.
But time withered those who boasted of fame,
Victors and vanquished perished just the name.
***

Description of Armenian Marriage:

The bride's face with nature's arm painted seemed
Much prettier than when the paint was applied;
Her lips slightly painted didn't need one deemed,
For they were prettier in the morning light;
Her cheeks mixed in lily and rose beamed
Fairer than a budding rose that spring morn does delight.

The beautiful bride stalks to the car,
The groom walks proud that he owned such a star.
***

Affixing their oath to the sacred pledge,
The priest declares the pair man and wife.
The pair step into the hall, to the stage,
And sit in their throne, to feast their new life.
United they are in joy and sorrow to engage,
Nothing can cut the thread, nor misery nor strife,
But deception and treason in a lawless embrace,
Is treated as a major crime, pollutes the race.

A true descendant of Armenian race
And bound to her faith and tradition,
The bride is virtuous, chaste and blameless.
No male has touched her nor known a passion
Towards the other sex in her pureness.
Like a hidden spring, an untouched fountain,
Her virtue shines and illuminates her soul,
None but a wedded spouse is her goal.

Description of Isfahan:

Now, now, Mount Sofi appears
On whose cheerful summit for years he had gazed;
Now the sweet accent of his natives he hears,
Now the high dome that Sheikh Lotfollah had raised
Displays its glory of one of the arts
Of the Isfahani that no equal imparts.

Here, here, is Monar Jomban, the wondrous pile
That for ages has danced and still dances;
The secret wheel hidden in the brick and tile
Has puzzled all the sages and the dunces!
The minaret still stands intact on its root
And smiles at new inventions, sober and mute!

Now, now cheerful Zayandeh-Rud is seen,
Rolling rapidly amid the cypress and pine;
The swelling silver flood smiles at his green
Banks and the linnet sings the glorious design
Of nature and his winged sisters and her brood
Listen alert and echo in the silent wood.

There, there, in that thicket for picnic they went
And there at the blue depth he watched the fishes;
Here the happy hours of childhood were spent,
Here he winged his imagination and wishes.
Here at the mossy banks carefree he roamed
And watched the river that gurgled and foamed.
***

Elegy on the Death of a Friend:

"Almighty God, our Creator, our Lord,
Who have designed and built this world
And many others that in order roll,
And turn as you bid in your divine scroll.
O Lord of present, future and past,
Whose name will ever survive and last,
We bow before your throne prostrate and humble
When we see one by one we die and tumble
Into this hallow bed that forms our bust
Dust we were and again we turn to dust.

"You have wisely commanded that all
Must die and the doom is universal;
Nor by our will can we change things nor by omen
When death dispatches us by its much feared summon.
In flower of youth our youthful friend did die
And with the palsied and disabled does he lie.

"Resigned to the call of death all must go,
Nor can postpone from today to the morrow.
Alas when the hour strikes and the bell does rings,
Nor the beggar escapes nor the proud king;
Sudden it knocks; there is no time for debate,
'Tis death that has arrived, 'tis death, 'tis death!
Vast numbers perish when Providence bids
And no more you breathe when Heaven forbids.
Ere we end our mission the ruthless killer
Arrives and relieves the nurse and the healer!

"Death has freed him from his earthly bondage
He has left his early home for a pilgrimage
To the realm of the shades where spirits dwell
To debate a permit to heaven or hell.
His earthly work is done, he has ended his mission,
From the tumult and tempest of earthly nation.
He has sinned in thought, word or deed,
Spare him in your mercy, spare him indeed!
Let your good Messenger interpose for our mate
And move your compassion for a better fate."

A Brief History of Iran:

Old was the country, ruled by mighty kings,
Cyrus, Shapur, Shah Abbas and Nadir;
The land had prospered under their wings.
Cyrus spread his realm to the Grecian border;
He conquered Babylon and rich Lydia
And at East he advanced to far India;

Established the Achamanid vast empire
Which ruled half of Asia and Europe at East.
Persepolis, the capital, was queen of every shire,
Where captive ruler king Darius' hand kissed.
His immortal soldiers guarded the kingdom
And he ruled the empire with much wisdom.

Shapur was the last Sassanid Monarch
Who with justice had ruled the large empire;
But his corrupt descendants failed to march
On the path that trod their wise grandsire:
Submitting to luxury and to lust,
They brought the mighty empire down to dust;

For lost in their pride and pomp of the court
They neglected justice and spread vice.
Their big army with no public support
Was surprised and defeated on the advance
Of Muslim Arabs' small, zealous army
Who spread the new faith and fought blasphemy.

Disgusted of their rulers' tyranny,
People welcomed the Arabs and the new faith
Which preached justice, shunned vice and villainy
And promised eternal life after death
To those who observed Prophet's commandments
And led chaste life and pious engagements.

Later the land was invaded by savage
Tribes neighboring the affluent empire;
Chengiz the tartar and Teimour with scourge
Spread carnage and put everything to fire:
They destroyed every palace, tower and fort
And brought total destruction, woe and discord.

Yet people revolted and in due course
Pushed the aggressors out of the land.
A new dynasty rose by the Safavid force
Which revived the grandeur of the fatherland.
From east Shah Abbas advanced beyond Kabul,
At north Baku, at he west threatened Istanbul.

Afterwards the Afghans ravaged the country,
Besieged the capital and toppled the Shah*.
The Turks attacked and seized a large territory
At west and appointed their own Pasha.
Once again the country was seized by violent foes
And waited a savior to rise and repeal those.
---------------------------
* Shah Sultan Hussein, the last Safavid king, who was slain later by Ashraf, the
Afghan.

A savior now emerged at Khorassan,
Nadir was his name, brave and daring.
A large army he assembled east of Iran
And marched to Isfahan and attacked the fake king.
In the fierce battle Ashraf the Afghan
Was defeated and expelled out of Iran.

Next Nadir assaulted the Turkish army
And forced them to vacate every conquered town;
Returning after routing the enemy
He held a council to determine the crown:
He was named king with unanimous consent
And was crowned by the leaders and khans present.

Elegy for Hafiz, Mowlavi and Saadi:

Much have I pored in your great book, O master of verse,
And much essayed to transcribe your living numbers,
Puzzled at your golden mansion and lost in your chambers;
You, O sweet Hafiz, you are the unrivalled poet of Perse;
Your lays marvelous sweet, your numbers succinct, terse;
Your song awakens the youth from heavy slumbers;
Your verse is as harmonious as body members;
Now the fragrant bowers of the rose you nurse,
Now you perch on the dewy boughs of stately pine,
Now you hang on lovers' lips in their soft repose;
Now in the lovers' mansion you drink the purple wine,
Now with sweet nightingale you sing of lovers woes,
Now with the hoary tavern-keeper you dwell and dine.

Bards like Drydon or Pope must rise from shades to sing
Your immortal lays into English not those who stutter
To transcribe your lays as lively as you can utter;
But they cannot find enough words, O master, to ring
The true note of your sweet Persian, or like you wing
Their flight in your lovely gardens and must flutter
Defeated by your divine power and for lack of matter,
Like those who tried Homer or Dante. You are the king
Of the bards in Persia in tenderness and in art;
You are the sweetest warbler who revived our tongue;
You dipped your pen in the blood of your heart;
You taught our poets the art of music and song.
What dirge was sung, on the sad day you did depart?
And what obsequies paid to you, who adored our tongue?

Your song sweeter than the sweet nightingale did ring,
Your lyrics were sweeter than honey when you warbled,
And not a line in your heavenly book is garbled.
You are the unquestioned harbinger of Persian spring,
You are the foremast, O bard, in what you did sing.
Whose tomb has survived your name though thickly marbled?
Who raised his head higher than you and was marveled?
Who can rise in the horizon that you spread your wing?
What monument, O master, can survive your rime?
What dedication can adorn your living page?
What power can overcome you? Even the austere time
Has submitted to your craft and your keen knowledge;
Empires fell and rose and fell by stern time and crime
But your music rings louder and fresher, O sage.

Your lyrics mixed with incense fills the balmy air,
For by tender silks of China they are woven,
Rehearsed by every lip and echoed in the heaven;
Like him full goblets of wine drain and like him bear
The pangs and pain of lovers drenched in tear!
Like him you must endure the pain to lovers given;
Like him for love forsake your life and issue even
To fly beyond the vaulted dome in the lovers' sphere.
Ere the spirit of the poet flew among the dead,
Thus he bade his mourners to pray on his tomb:
"Though a sea of sin might close over Hafiz's head,
Yet he may chance to dwell in the Lord's kingdom."
Shine! O Hafiz, shine, O lamented shade!
For your fame shall outlast marbles of Greece and Rome.

At one pole of Land of Perse divine Hafiz lines,
At another learned Rumi rears his awful head,
And the world lauds and laments the departed shade.
In his unbounded treasure the spirit rises and shines,
Now with the Maker he communes, now in tavern he dines;
With one sharp note of sweet melody his flute sings
And speaks of the soul's pains in its wanderings;
With divine love he explores hidden gems of mines
Inflamed by the radiant heat of Shams. The sage
Looses himself in the divine bowers and clustered vines
And points at fathomless ocean of hidden knowledge,
And with thrilling ecstasy tastes celestial wines.
With clear lines he transcribes Quran's living page,
With the earthly and the divine his soul entwines.

Who can touch your ethereal soul and your heart's core?
Say, who can digest all you divinely sing,
And soar the heights you prop your wing?
Or in all your mystic philosophy keenly pore
Or trace the subtle spirit from mud and gore?
Vast is your knowledge, O poet and king,
Gigantic is the poems of your making!
Your fame flies on the briny seas to the shore
Of England where Nicholson echoes with his praise
And labors to dub your tender lays in his tongue;
Winfield dubbed your Massnavi and your lays
And Browne illustrated your worth in the Persian song
But, alas, they're lifeless, they fail to raise
The thrill you transmit to your Persian throng.

And must you, sweet Saadi, the able nurse
Of rich Persian literature, escape our praise
Whose lines are as pleasing now as in your days?
Your prose is as smooth as your sweet verse;
Elegantly you weave them, sweet and terse.
To what pitch of ecstasy rings your lays?
To what height your fame, O master, you raise
When you rail at man's failings and scorn his purse?
Clear as the unruffled rill your numbers flows,
Strong as the rock your maxims are woven.
Your fame has spread and to new spheres it goes;
Your song cheers the people and echoes in heaven.
Each shell in your ocean a new pearl hides,
Each distich to new wisdoms leads and guides.

O great teacher and sage, who pore deep the heart,
Who blend your sweet verse with eloquent prose;
And in all your stories a new sense glows;
Your Golestan is a masterpiece of art,
Your sweet Boostan skillfully does impart
Your message to mankind mixed with lily and rose;
You know when to start and when to bring to a close,
And your numbers in sweet harmony flows.
You bid reason to rule and tame the sense,
You point at men's virtue and their folly,
Without affectation or vain pretence.
Many have caught your spark in their sally
In the realm of art but their music jars
And betrays your shining gold in their farce.

Attar!, our learned scholar and guide,
Writers come to Neishabur where you lived and died.
Fired by a Dervish who railed at mortality
You dismissed the cares of life and its vanity;
Then marching in the tempting path of love,
You crossed seven cities and climbed above.
With your birds you soared higher and higher
And boldly flew into the mystics' empire
Where globes in globes in due order roll
And the Maker presides from pole to pole.
What you warble gushes from your heart's core
With a pen which none have employed before.
Much you have taught from virtues that you hold,
Now roaming in mountain, now in the fold.
Plain words which hangs in every lip, oh sage,
You mould in sweet verse and pour your knowledge.
From you, oh bard, lovers learned how to burn
In a journey that there is no return.
In living pages your lovely numbers are read,
And we look where your hallowed remains are laid;
But no monument you need, O divine master,
Your fame flies from your tomb faster and faster!
***

Falls in Love with A Nurse:

He fell in deep slumber and had a dream
That his soul had traveled among the dead!
All was white and stillness, then he'd a whim
Of chasing a nymph clad from toe to head
In white silk, who light as the wind did swim
In a foamy, frothy river and led
Martin to regions unknown; with toil spent
He sank deep but was saved ere he did faint

By the angel of the abode of the blessed!
But he lost her and in another vision
'Twas dark and in a marshy land he was chased
By a pack of wolves and in confusion
He stumbled into a pit up to his waist;
And before the evil beasts had occasion
To tear him into pieces the snow-white maid
Arrived there and stopped the violent raid!

Next he opened his eyes from the long trance
A female hand on his pulse did he feel
And a pair of black eyes with smiling glance.
He wasn't sure he was in Heaven or still
On Earth for her angelic brilliance
Threw him in doubt. He pondered a great deal,
Till an acute pain at his stomach did
Inform him that he was alive indeed.

Beautiful were her eyes like glowing pearl
And arching brows adorned her comely face,
And long, dusky hair with a sloppy curl
At her large forehead, added to her grace.
The rosy cheeks and smiling lips gave the girl
The appearance of a nymph in all fairness.
Such was the lady who dried his forehead
With her caressing hands and smoothed his bed.

His heart beat faster when the girl drew near
And he became restless when she was gone;
Her voice rang melodiously to his ear,
Sweet and tuneful as the nightingale on
A fresh spring morning when new is the year.
And Martin was seized with some confusion:
When he wanted to talk to the fair dame
He hardly could find words his speech to frame.

Air travel to Europe, USA and Canada:

Now with an ardent desire to explore the West
Martin and his wife and the fruit of their love,
Mount the winged giant which with sudden haste
And mighty heave ascends the skies above,
First towering the town and its forsaken nest
Then veering higher westward the iron dove
Climbs the horizon and the vaulted skies
And reduced to speck above the dancing clouds flies.

From the gaps of flying clouds they survey
The dwarfing city vanish from their sight;
The jet buzzing incessant in her airy way
New beauties disclose to their delight.
Here glorious Zagros its height displays,
There in green valleys light and darkness fight.
Phoebus majestically lifts his crowned head
And his radiant light on the Earth does spread.

Lake Van in the mountainous country we see,
Small as a country pound the blue lake shines
And vanish into endless chains of rocky
Copper mountains, then to hills and mounds declines
And end into arid waste. The Ionian Sea
Now shows its blue surface and in dotted lines
Grecian islands appears. Then the jet towers
Over towns, villages and castles hid in the bowers.

Europe a thousand times diminished now lies
Underneath and bares all her beauty and grace
To the passengers. Now Rome peeps dwarfed in size,
Now Alp's hoary peaks rise in the wilderness.
German forests and woods appears to the eyes
And here or there an old castle shows its face.
Rhine with silver water flows in the matted route
And towns and villages appear sleepy and mute!

Description of Louver Museum, Paris:

They enter the Louver, which in her hold
The record of mankind is made bare to you.
Here's Pharaoh's sarcophagus, wan and cold,
In the glass box that protects its flesh and hue.
But he's lucky to remain entire in the fold
For nothing remains of Cheops, the king, to view:
Let no a moment give me or you hopes,
For not a pinch of dust remains of Cheops*
--------------
* Lord Byron - Don Juan.

But who is this armless beauty yet so fair,
Gazing to the posterity from ancient times;
Is it Venus?, so is inscribed underneath here,
A Venus without arms whom Virgil rhymes
As fairest of immortals with ringlets of hair
Descending on her back. Venus who climes
To heavens from the foams of the purple sea,
Venus so lifeless, so mangled sight to see;

Venus for whom Paris forsook wealth and power
And bought the hate of Jove's daughter and wife;
The wounded godheads scaled the lofty tower
Of Troy with Grecian army. O what strife
Both endured in the war. Apollo sent a shower
Of pestilence on Greeks. Achilles lost his life,
Hector fell, Paris fell, Priam fell, Troy fell
And the grand epic remained for Homer to tell.

Description of Flight:

The Boeing 747 is a flying bus
Wide enough in a raw to contain nine seats
With two long aisles, each governed by a hostess -
In the long, narrow aisles with start and fits
These aerial nymphs watch and now and then cast us
A radiant smile and your flattering heart beats
A bit faster; your wife besides you hates it
But etiquette prevents to demonstrate it.

The hostess makes sure your seat belt is bolted
And checks personally to see it is done
Then displays the escape chute should the melted
Ocean suck you if you make a wrong landing on
Ocean, and when she does it you feel you're jolted
From your seat and fall headlong with a deep groan
Into the wild turbulent ocean waters,
And you fill sick and close your window shutters.

With a tremendous effort the aircraft nose
Goes up but still the hind part is not lifted;
In a minute you're up whole and the plane goes
Or rather flies higher and gears are wafted
And secured and bolted in her belly. The wind blows
Fiercely but you are not hit or sifted
From the doors or windows which are tightly sealed
Lest you are sucked out in the air and are killed.

When the aircraft reaches the clouds alarm lights are out
And your fair hostess approaches with a tray
Of refreshments. 'Tea or coffee Sir, or doughnut?"
She asks and motion picture is put to play
On a large board behind the galley. You look out
And it is all dancing clouds white and gray ;
But below you look and check a dreadful shriek
For the huge blue mantle beneath is Atlantic.

And all the horrid creatures in the wide ocean
Seem ready to chase you and to devour you,
While in the crazy chute you are in motion
With your fair hostess and passengers and crew.
Like flying meteorites in great commotion
You descend . Your vision expands and you
Curse yourself for leaving solid ground to air,
And you start yelling unashamed from fear.

Down you crash and your bags falls on your head;
You fumble horrified to open your chute,
But you fail; the small yellow chute is only made
For display not for use when you're in destitute.
Then you feel your leg is seized by a shark and led
Into the depth. You shriek fearful and pull your foot.
Your wife shakes you awake angry and you see
That you're safe on your seat and laugh with frenzy.

Description of New York and Washington:

A whole forum is gathered in the island;
All the races in the world have a quarter.
Here is China-town and there far from Thailand
And Korea arrive weekly by charter
Flights and check out or some in the lounge file and
Fly to Los Angeles. Indian and Tartar,
Arabs, Hispanics come in large number in haste
To gaze at the new outlet of civilized West.


This is modern Rome, which rules the world
Save that which the ailing communists rule;
Her Wall Street controls what is bought and sold,
And her World Bank manages nearly the whole
Business of the world, lending cash or gold
To poorer nations which bend to her rule;
And United Nations stands there to hold peace,
Much it recommends but statesmen dismiss.

Here Empire States building looks at U.N. tower
And the World Trade Center stands near the coast;
A heap of metal purchased by dollar
Builds the gigantic pyramids which is the boast
Of the nation and hundred more stand lower
In a garden fit for Cyclops where was tossed
Odysseus. But here Cyclops would be dwarfed to men
And Odysseus in taxi would dread the main

Of frothy Atlantic where no Calypso courts.
Here skyscrapers are large as elephants
And the growing town is busiest of the ports
In the world and the people reduced to ants
Flock in a hurry ,dressed in various sorts
Of garments, and look after their wants.
Hudson washes the shore and big ocean liners
Moor beside the docks and drop cargoes and diners.


.... But the capital is a different town;
If New York is a city, Washington is
But a peaceful town as the former has grown
Ten times larger, and while a big crisis
Is brewing at Chile*, an old man smoothes the lawn
Of the White House. A monument rises
In front of Lincoln Center sharp and high
And a cheerful sun is shining in the sky.
-------------------------
In the summer 1193, the time of this narration, a CIA sponsored coop
wrecked the capital of Chile and Salvador Alende, the democrat strongman,
was murdered , and not a leaf turned in peaceful Washington.

But who is this giant sitting in the hall?
Is this a Cyclops, but it has two eyes
And is bearded and clothed, is lean and tall!
The stone or marble is cut in enormous size
To mark the memory of Lincoln which to call
It majestic is neither fitting nor is wise:
For he was a human lawyer who wrote the code
And many like him followed the path he rode.

If the artist was asked to raise a bust
For Goliath or Hercules what a pile
He would have built to commemorate their dust?
Next in the Capitol they view an endless file
Of heads of the good dead men who made the first
Congress that was raised in hurry by brick and tile
To house, Jefferson, Franklin, Bob, Joe and Foote
Who all mourned when Lincoln was barreled by Boothe.

Description of War with Iraq:

The strife continued but the nation didn't bow
To all the pressure that was applied by West;
Meantime Iraq from west turning outlaw
Invaded border towns and put to waste
Factories and people's homes, spreading woe
Without warning notice for quick conquest:
Deeming Iran weak by domestic war
The lunatic drove inside deep and far

Only to meet a severe resistance
From the army and the Islamic guard.
Catching the army by surprise they did advance
And Khorramshahr was captured by their vanguard;
But the state did not give them further chance
And a counter-attack checked the coward:

Just rid of internal war the state was led
Into a battle that lasted a decade.

This was a war of woe and destruction
That claimed many lives and wasted the country;
Ambition and folly for expansion
Had seized Saddam* to began butchery
Of innocent people of a nation
Who'd done him no harm nor to his sentry:
The aggression proved a fatal blunder
And the result was ruin, blood and thunder.

They claimed that Shat-ul-Arab River
Which separated Khorramshahr from Basra
Belonged to them and asked Iran to deliver
The river rights. His agreement with the Shah
(he declared) was void and on such foolish fever
He opened a front from South to Kerman shah,
And on such vain pretext he invaded
But events later proved he evaded

To uncover his evil intention.
For when he seized Khorramshahr by storm
He said it belonged to the Arab nation
Of Khuzistan! He had expected a warm
Welcome , but the army of occupation
Was damned by the natives and much alarm
Was spread among the convicts at the rage
Of the captives who hated the outrage.

The invading army raped and plundered
The helpless civilians without a cause;
While the cannon on the border thundered
The Iraqi burglars robed every house
And seized all cargo at docks. One wondered
What excuse Saddam had or what escape clause
He meant to form to justify the offence
Which was wide in scope and in violence.

All deadly weapons designed for mass slaughter
Were used by the enemy in the war;
First they sent war-planes to drop bombs and after
That they dispatched deadly missiles far
Into cities, spilling blood like water
And the shock of blast put one's heart ajar.
The homeless folk migrated towards West
To save their lives and find shelter in haste.

To report the scope of the terrible war
And atrocities committed one must use
A harsher tongue which is not popular
For the sins committed shocks the Muse.
Air raids in the middle of night by far
Was most inhumane; the devils let loose
Bombed civilians and slaughtered in a heap
While families snored away in their sleep.
***

War!, war is my theme Cacus roars from his den,
Cacus the plague and Vulcan's bastard son.
Insatiate for blood he raves again and again
And sends new recruits to meet our garrison.
Mangled corpses of our youth serves his table
And crimes unheard in history or fable

Are repeated by the new Goliath of the Moors.
The whole frontier with his cannon roars
And peopled towns are turned into Goors*.
Our sons forsake their homes to augment our force,
And with bare breasts their beloved country shield
And by thousand bleed and paint the war field.
-------------
1. Graves.

On his command his iron fighters fly
And on sleepy cities like vultures hover;
The cannon thunders and lightens the sky
And firework in thousand specks spread and cover
The horizon and cheer our innocent brood,
While fallen bombs blast and wreck a neighborhood.

Again they come and again are chased away
And fire fighters rush to the burning quarter.
Thus the madman raves and sure of sway
He breaks every written code and charter.
Carnage is construed as courage by the boaster
And new victories are recorded in his roster.

Littoral Gulf states gaze at the false hero
And feed his warring machines with their oil;
In awe and doubt they praise the modern Nero
Who openly mocks their fear and turmoil
And tunes his harp over the burning towns
And laughs at the peoples' tears and groans.

The mad music spreads and awes the world
And is filtered and multiplied by the press;
Crimes are hushed up, atrocities are untold,
And the dragon's feats are echoed by express
Dispatches from posts set in the scene of action,
And the world is passive to the reaction

Of the raped country which cries for justice.
The world body is fed by false rumor
And Iran is bullied for armistice.
The Arabs hear with disdain our clamor:
"Stop feeding the monster with your udders!"
And Saudis send squadrons of air radars

To monitor vessel movements in the Gulf.
Even these are threatened by the bully
To stop ammunition and oil pelf
To Iran and to think twice ere they sally
In the warm sea and troubled Iranian ports
And continues broadcasting his false reports

Of heavy build-up by Iran and spreads false alarms.
While in reality these are our farmers and youth
Who besiege the barracks and cry for arms
And rush to the front amid smoke and soot.
At every mosque, tavern or public place,
They gather torn from their mothers' embrace

To learn combat and haste to join the fighters
At the long line of tents, trenches and ditches
Where at night it is great sin to use lighters
Lest they are shelled by the sons of bitches.
Such is the temper of the belligerent nation
To resist an intrusion and domination

By an adventurer and manslayer.
They abide the summon of their elderly leader
And between falling mortars do their prayer
And for heroic action all are a bidder.
Acts of chivalry are talked so little;
Homer could have sung ten Iliads of the battle.

You the father of poets and blind seer
Who won Apollo's lyre and tuned to the Nine,
Who inspired Virgil, Dante and Shakespeare
To copy your grand epic and noble design.
What merit you would bestow and what rank
To a child who scorns death to blow a tank?

2. Selected Pieces from "HAJJI BABA OF ISFAHAN"

PROLOGUE

The hero of my book is son of s barber
Who by chance or fate is led to a strange harbor
From humble engagements with blade and towe1
His adventures formed the first Persian nove1:

Hajji Baba shined once upon a time
And here I revive it into rhyme.
Coarse is the fellow and untrained in writing,
But sincere in what he is reciting.
He does not blush to talk of his falling
Or describe deeds that are moral ailing;
Nor am I an expert to sing in tune
Or warble like the nightingale in June.
Well, I have began and am resolved to end it
And shall publish if I'm allowed to send it
To the public....

***

Fathali Shah's poet laureate speaks about the Iranian taste for poetry:

From my early days I was extremely keen
To explore the golden realm of literature,
And knew Hafiz's poems by heart at sixteen.
Yes friend, the Persians are blended to nature
And their imagination is as fertile as
The garden that blossoms in front of their houses.
Hafiz is master of lyrics. Ferdowsi was
Unrivaled in epic. Mowlavi rouses
The most tender feelings, and Saadi's prose
Is as smooth as his verse when he warbles
In his Gulistan and Bustan. Many are those
Who sung and their poems have survived the marbles
Of Persepolis...........
***

Hajji Baba is bastinadoed in Mashhad for selling bad tobacco:

Wretch of Isfahani, so you are the one
Who is poisoning people in the town?
You will receive as many strokes of beating
As you have received Shahis for cheating.
Bring the falak, he ordered his henchmen,
And beat this rouge and son of a demon.
My feet were fastened in the dreaded noose
And I begin to receive the heavy blows.
The blows fell merciless on my bare feet,
The killing pain threw me into a fit:
Soon I saw thousands of Mohtasabs dance;
With a thousands old women, in my trance;
Laughing at my wailing and contortions....
***

The Hakim Bashi describes the Europeans:

Their customs and clothing are strange and odd,
Their manner wholly differs with our blessed code;
I shall mention a few examples, then
You might from an opinion of these men.
Instead of shaving the head they shave the face,
Their face is as smooth as a glass surface;
They let the hair grow on their head, long and thick,
And two long locks descend down on the cheek.
They eat their food by spoon and by fork,
While we eat by fingers and ease the work.
They wear tight jackets, trousers and shoes
Whereas we wear turbans and our garments are loose.
They eat pork and drink wine and their women
Wear no veils and herd freely among men.
Mixed they eat and drink and lead a sinful life
And one's wife is in fact everybody's wife."
***

The poet laureate flatters the king and scorn the doctor:

"The firmament possesses but one sun
And Persia has one king to wear the crown.
Like sun he gives life to the universe
And all elements obey his celestial force.
"The doctor may boast of his medicine,
But how compete the King's curing glance, keen!
"What is Padzahr, what's Mumiai's1 flash
To the twinkle of the royal eyelash?
"O Mirza Ahmaq, happiest of men
And most blessed doctor in the domain!

"Now indeed you possess within your wall
A cure for every disease, each and all.
"Shut up your Hippocrates and your Galen,
The father of all is here in person!
"The King's glance being the lest cure, say
What avails your potions within his sway?
"Lucky is the doctor in whose blessed home
The King steps in with a royal diadem.
"O Mirza Ahmaq, happiest of men
And most blessed of doctors in the domain!"

"Afarin! Afarin2, "the King said then
"You are a real poet, worthy of my reign;
Whose dog was Ferdowsi compared to you
Or Mahmoud the Ghaznavid and his crew?
A mouth from which such sweet words does proceed
Should be filled with sugar candy indeed.
Go! (he orders his chamberlain), go to the man,
Kiss his mouth and fill as much as you can
Sugar in his mouth to mark our honour!"
After this they served the Monarch's dinner...

Hajji Baba travels to Isfahan and Shiraz to collect presents for the King of
England:

When I entered Isfahan mounted on the horse
Of splendor and with authority and force
Vested by the King and all the bearing
Of a lord who has been in a king's hearing,
I was so swelled with pride that was about to burst
And I looked at my fellow citizens as dust
Under my feet. I avoided my neighborhood -
Carried away too far in my elated mood -
Lest by ill I was discovered by someone
That I was none else but the beggarly son
Of Karbalai Hasan, the dead barber.
Thus I set my sails at a safe harbor
And took my lodging beside the castle
Of the governor with all the bustle
Of a man of rank. "Look, Hajji Baba," I said,
"See how fortune's dexterous hand has shaped your fate
That you shine with dignity and enter
Your native town, representing the Center
Of Universe, wearing a dress of honor
And walking among peers in stately manner;
And armed by sword of strength and a royal farman*
To impose your power on both rich and poor men!"
And making a mental address to them
I added: "You who treated me with shame
And robbed me of my inheritance, look and fear!
For the man who can retrieve it is now near;
And you who put your heads under my razor
Tremble!, for I'm the agent of the grand vezir
And the power to cut your heads is mine -
It is enough for me to make a nod or sign
To my servants and they will cut them off.
And you beggars who used to rail and scoff
At my humble origin and conspired at my back
At Istanbul, prepare yourselves for attack
From one who is well fortified by power."

With such an air of importance at that hour
Those who met me balked at my show of force
And opened a hasty passage for my horse
To stalk in the narrow, dusty streets fast.

--------------------------
* A king's decree.

Epilogue.

Well or ill, dear reader, I've ended my theme
And sincerely solicit your kind esteem:
I know not the value of this laborious task,
Nobody has encouraged me and none did ask!
But once I started I resolved to end it.
Well, I have performed the task and send it
Out and seek the mercy of the kind censor:
O I am a novice, not a necromancer
To bewitch readers! I've newly taken wing,
You may accept or not, there is no helping.
To a wholesome foundation I've turned my verse
And shortened the episodes and made it terse.
Being Iranian I shared his feelings
And felt what he has endured in all his dealings....
***