Visiting the Moon
Sometimes we visit the moon
And then forget
It’s sitting up there
Watching us.
I was fifteen years old
When I found the moon in the Biabanak sand dunes.
I was traveling from Nain to Jandaq
Sitting at the back of a pickup with a worker
And smoking my first cigarette.
Every sand hill in the moonlight
Looked like a sleeping ghoul.
The worker spoke of working in the Nakhlak Mine
And I wanted to become a miner
So as did Vincent Van Gogh
I could take out my red gold
From the heart of the earth.
Years later I found the moon again.
We were passing from behind the border patrol checkpoint
Alongside Kurdish guides
To reach the city of Van in Turkey
When suddenly the big disk of the moon appeared.
I shouted: “Oh, moon!
You are the sign of my freedom”
And sang the song of “High Moon”
Which my mother used to sing.
We were leaving to remain free
And find a new vision
In the cities of Europe and America.
Last night I saw the moon again.
We were returning from Catalina Island.
With my fifteen-year-old son Azad
I went to the deck
To watch whales
But we saw nothing
Except the reflection of the moon in the water.
Suddenly I remembered my father
Telling us that at age fourteen
While returning from Takht Pulad Cemetery in Isfahan
He had been taken by the magic of the moon
And infinity had touched his soul.
Then my son returned to the cabin
Leaving me alone on the deck.
The moon was the only link
Bringing together
The pieces of my life.
Majid Naficy
August 9, 2003
دیدار ماه
گاهی با ماه دیدار میکنیم
و آنگاه از یاد میبریم
که آن بالا نشسته است
و به ما مینگرد.
پانزدهساله بودم که ماه را
در شنزارهای بیابانک یافتم.
از نائین به جندق میرفتم
نشسته با کارگری پشت وانت بار
و اولین سیگار خود را میکشیدم.
در مهتاب هر تل شنی
به غولی خفته میمانست.
او از کار در معدنِ نخلک میگفت
و من میخواستم کارگر معدن شوم
تا چون ونسان ونگوگ از دل خاک
زر سرخ خود را بیرون کشم.
سالها بعد دوباره ماه را یافتم.
داشتیم با بلدهای کرد
از پشت پاسگاه مرزی میگذشتیم
تا خود را به شهرِ وان در ترکیه برسانیم
که ناگهان قرص درشت ماه نمایان شد.
فریاد زدم: ای ماه!
تو نشانِ آزادی منی
و ترانهی ماه بلند را خواندم
که مادرم برای ما میخواند.
میرفتیم تا آزاد بمانیم
و در شهرهای اروپا و آمریکا
طرحی نو دراندازیم.
دیشب ماه را بار دیگر دیدم.
از جزیرهی کاتالینا بازمیگشتیم.
با پسر پانزدهسالهام آزاد
به عرشهی کشتی رفتم
برای تماشای نهنگها
ولی بجز عکس ماه در آب
چیز دیگری ندیدیم.
ناگاه به یاد پدرم افتادم
که میگفت یک شب در چاردهسالگی
هنگام بازگشت از گورستانِ تخت پولاد
افسونِ ماه او را میگیرد
و ابدیت بر جانش مینشیند.
آنگاه پسرم به خوابگاه بازگشت
و مرا بر عرشه تنها گذاشت.
ماه تنها رابطی بود
که میتوانست پارههای زندگی مرا
به یکدیگر پیوند دهد.
مجید نفیسی
نهم اوت دوهزاروسه
from Lillian Boraks Nemetz, Polish-Canadian poet, Holocaust survivor:
Your poem is stunning. Not only in the beauty of its imagery but
Its ability to bring us all to the
Center of existence and into the astonishing meeting in the 4th dimension.
Love
Lillian
from Suzanne:
Majid, it's a beautiful poem -- I'm going to copy it for my group of poets and students on my Facebook Salon page, which includes about a hundred people (though they don't all check in).
from Mehdy:
The poem is based on the intersectionality of the moon. It is always up there watching the narrator:from the time of curiosity and passion for life as a teenager to the time of revolution and going to exile and finally when three generations are portrayed together in the moonlight and the story of one life knocks at the gate of infinity.
from Naomi Shihab Nye:
Beautiful. Deeply touching, as ever.
There is a poem "The Moon over Gaza" in my newest book, The Tiny Journalist.
Bringing together the pieces. Mystery of life that keeps us sane.
from Elaheh Amani:
Thanks Majid jaan. I always make note of presence of moon and make eye contact. (in a poetic way).
from Liz:
Dear Majid,
Thank you for sending me this beautiful poem you wrote. Suzanne Lummis just posted it on Facebook as well. What a fine poem it is.
from Moin:
What a lively story. I wish it was longer.
Thanks