Ravan Farhadi, a Versatile scholar

Honourable readers have asked for English translation of Persian/Dari Memoirs I had written during last years. Here I begin with a short memoir about my dearest teacher and friend, His Excellency Professor Doctor Ravan Farhadi.
It was 1975 ( 1353 HS) when I was on a trip to Iran during the annual vacation, when late Professor Daneshpezhooh entered the office of Prof. Iraj Afshar and asked me with worries about Ravan Farhadi, and praised him for his profound knowledge particularly in French language. He recalled a conference he had attended in Paris, where ‘a Meddle Eastern scholar delivered a lecture in French with such a profound mastery as if he was speaking in his first language’ while Prof, Afshar who accompanied Daneshpeshooh would say that he was Dr. Ravan Farhadi, the Afghan ambassador. Late Daneshpezhooh who had heard that Ravan had been relieved from the embassy and had been summoned to Kabul was concerned about his conditions. I told him that Dr. Ravan was my teacher and he was doing quite well. I told him that he was relaxing at home and was busy with his studies and researches.
Here, I am writing a few lines on what I may remember about Dr. Ravan Farhadi in that year, hitherto and afterward. But first, I will write an account of our initial visit with this great diplomat, politician, mystic, author, linguist, philologist, and translator.
First visit with Khodayar Kabuli
It was around 1968 when I was a freshman in Kabul University and at the meantime I was working as a producer of artistic and literary programs in Kabul Radio, including a program called Honar wa Zendagi (art and life). Following the instructions of my teacher and boss, late Prof. Sabahoddin Kushkaki, I had opened, in that program, a chapter for book reviews. For this chapter I interviewed famous scholars among whom were high-ranking government officials. To have a review on a juridical book by Dr. Walid Hoqooqi, I was told that an appointment had been made with Dr. Ravan Farhadi, the Politics Department Director in the Foreign Affairs ministry. I was told that Dr. Ravan would say something about the book and I had to write his words down instead of of recording his voice.
Next day, I went to the Foreign Affairs Ministry. It was very exciting, because for a freshman student, on those days, going to that ministry, then visiting a personality like Ravan Farhadi, was not an easy job. But it had become possible for me. I tried to look perfect for visiting such a luminary official. I was so impressed by the glory of the environment that I forgot to wonder how young Dr. Farhadi was, and he looked as old as looked the foreign ministry itself. He asked some questions and said a few words before going to main subject, the book review. I did not know shorthand and he was dictating so rapidly that, at first, I though it was impossible for me to go along with him. But I heard, as if somebody shouted inside me, that do not give up this opportunity, or you should give all ambitions up. It was when felt as if I had become with all my existence a pen, running in the white sheet, writing what I could not even follow hearing. Fortunately it was finished and I asked how should I write his name. He said smiling that it was a good question and added’ Write, Khodayar Kabuli’.
Marvelous! So he was the author of the morning liturgy program that I liked so much and heard every day. That litany under the signal of “The Right Way” everyday was ending with the name of the author recited by the announcer: written by Khodayar Kabuli. Anyway such was my acquaintance with Ravan Farhadi. During my studies in university and simultaneously working in Radio Kabul, I always sought an opportunity to go and see Dr. Ravan Farhadi, and I always succeeded in my efforts and always learned vital lessons. Thus Dr. Ravan Farhadi became my teacher, not only in knowledge but also in culture. He never spared what he should have taught me. His teaching and guidance were not only with amenity and leniency, but sometimes with warning and anger. For example, first I did not care about punctuality. He told me once: do you know what may happen in this world in ten minutes when we are late? Gradually, I became as punctual as I always, even now, try to arrive a few minutes earlier for any appointment and wait outside for the exact time.
The Honorable Specialist =Janaab-e Motakhasses
After graduating from the university, for some reason, I had to work for one year in my hometown, Herat, as a high school teacher. After one year, my friends and colleagues called me to return to the Press, but it was not easy then, for teachers, to leave teaching for another job. I should have earned the agreement from the Ministry of Education. When Dr. Ravan knew the problem told me that the Honorable Specialist will help to get the agreement from the Education Ministry. But who was the Honorable Specialist, and one may ask, why am I writing about him, here? I am writing about him because he was a relative of Ravan and a paragon of the high culture of Kabul. He had attracted the me and without doubt so many others by his etiquettes and manners. He was late Professor Mohammad Yonus known as the “Motakhasses”, which means The Specialist, because he was specialist in chemistry. In those days he was a senior man, in his seventies, and he was an adviser in the Ministry of Education. He was very tactful and polite and very orderly with everything in his daily life. Although he was a specialist in chemistry, his reputation was mostly for his endeavors in adults education, particularly adult literacy. He was a founder of the adult literacy courses in Afghanistan, and in addition to a book that he had compiled which was named The Rules of Yonus (Osool e Yonus), he arranged publishing a monthly magazine by the name of Read and Know ( Bekhwan wa Bedaan ). He was Ravan’s father in law.
So on the appointed day, for my agreement from the ministry of education, I went to see the honorable Specialist, Prof. Yonus, at early morning, and we went together to the ministry. He took the paper that was given to me by the information and culture ministry, and went room by room to fulfill the procedure. I remember that in every office, where he entered, high-rank officer would stand for his respect and asked for the paper to complete in his behalf, but he would denied and said that he himself had been asked for the job, and it was his own duty to complete it. As they knew his manner they would not insist, but bowed to him. I kept on following him till afternoon until the work was done and the agreement was ready. I remember that late Professor smiled and asked: Did I complete my job? Am I dismissed?
I believe, his manners and ethics were, ad are, a good paragon for young generation. It’s worth saying that the Professor had a special interest to my hometown, Herat, where he had served as the director for the department of education. Even though he was chemistry professor, had a broad knowledge in different branches of human sciences. Most people who had met him, always recall his useful academic advices. Late Rona Ravan Farhadi, Professor’s daughter was a pattern of high-culture Kabuli ladies.
Again, let us resume writing of my teacher and very dear friend Professor Doctor Ravan.
One of his characteristic habits was to encourage his students and friends for academic works.
Balkh and Yaghma magazine
I was working in the Balkh province, in the department of information and culture in 1970. In Balkh, the anniversary of Nawrooz was celebrated nationally, or even internationally. It was a national festival as well as a pilgrimage because in Balkh, there is the shrine of Hazart-e Ali the fourth caliph of Islam. On the first day, VIPs came from the capital, Kabul, and in that year Ravan also came as the first person in the Foreign Affair Ministry. I was among the host officers welcoming the guests and pilgrims. He was there for a few hours and had to return because he could not keep out from the office for a long time. I did not know he was coming and surprisingly I met him and after inquiry he said that he had brought Yaghma, Persian literary journal and handed it to me. He had brought that journal because there had been published an itinerary of Dr. Islami Nodoshan and there was a chapter about his visit to Balkh, where we, Nadoshan and I, had met together. It was the habit of my teacher, Dr. Ravan who did not ignore any opportunity to encourage his students and friends. Later I was transferred to Kabul and Dr. Ravan was the political deputy in the Foreign Ministry and I went to see him every now and then, and was always welcomed generously. Later he was appointed as Afghan ambassador to Paris and went there, and we were in contact by letters.
Five years at home
There is proverb in Farsi: Attachment to the king is a burning fire. So was the case for my teacher. I prefer ignoring the story in detail and passing by with that ironic proverb. So, around 1975 he was summoned to Kabul without being appointed to a new job for five years. In press as well as Internet nobody has written, in detail, on Dr. Ravan’s literary and cultural activities during this period. I daresay, without doubt, that this was most productive period for Dr. Ravan Farhadi.
Jahanbeen, a journalist and political commentator
During this period, I learned how talented Ravan was in journalism particularly in writing political commentaries and world review. And this is a fact from which his admirers, even most of his close friends have not been aware. When I served as a member of the editing board in Jamhooriat (Republic) newspaper run by late Dr. Asef Sohail, there was published a weekly world review under the name of Jahanbeen. Sohail tried to have participation of elites in the paper. So Ravan was invited to write for the newspaper, and he wrote that weekly review but under the penname or Jahanbeen. Majority of readers were interested in that review, while none of them knew the author was Ravan Farhadi. It was a long review, written very precise and full of facts and new points. It is worth mentioning that the compilation of the punch book, Mahmood Tarzi’s Article in Sarajul-akhbar was also a pattern of his interest in journalism.
A productive cultural movement
In 1974, the Afghan government approved a series of seminars, on life and works of elite personalities, to be held in Kabul. To plan and make a better arrangement a series of regular academic sessions were held at the Ministry of Information and Culture. In the ministry, there were personalities who acknowledged the superiority of academic and diplomatic character of Ravan Farhadi. Some of those people, are alive now, and may God bliss those who are not in this world anymore. One of these scholarly officers was Dr. Akram Osman, who was the director of publicity in that ministry. He was, and he is, a letter man and a skilled novel writer and he has always has reverence to cultural and literary personalities, particularly a person like Ravan Farhadi. Dr. Osman was the chief executive of these proposed programs. Akram Osman had also gathered many intellectuals and cultural employees. So there had been arranged a list of historical personalities, lettermen, academics and scientists, worth celebration. Among the names in the list were classic scholars like Daqiqi, Senayi, Naser Khosraw, Khwaja Abdullah Ansari, Farabi and many others.
In the ministry, to carry on this task, there was arranged a council of scholars who were invited from all over the Capital. Among famous scholars were Prof. Abdulhai Habibi and Prof. Ravan Farhadi. Habibi chaired the council and Ravan was the main speaker there. Ravan not only gave the advices but he also would show the easy and effective way for the achievements. One would relish seeing the reciprocal reverence and respects of those two scholars. A clear evidence of Ravan’s deep respect to Habibi is his book, A history of Pashto etymology. Dr. Ravan, in the second volume of the book has written a comprehensive academic biography of Dr. Habibi.
Although there many seminars were held before for celebrities like Ansari, Jami and others, but now there was a notion to introduce the culture of the society in a more worldwide scale. It was Ravan who, at this period of time- free from political involvements and fond of doing something effective for the culture, helped the executors to do their job as best as it was possible. He helped the cultural offices of the country to introduce country’s culture and literature to world in an unprecedented manner. This movement also made it possible for intellectuals to compile, research and publish hundreds of new literary, cultural and scientific books, save thousand of articles written, in this period of time by the scholars of the country and world. Ravan knew the world’s scholars better than the others did as he knew the world better than the others did. In each seminar Ravan put a finger on certain scholars names whom he thought more useful and whose participation was more practical. He also helped the executors to establish new international standard which made the seminars superior in the region.
Of course it could be, academically, beneficial for Ravan himself. He searched, wrote and edited a series of books some of those had many prints inside and outside the country. Were Ravan in his official governmental post could have done such marvelous academic works, is not easy to judge. During this period of time, if he were working as a politician or diplomat, as he was before, one me ask: could he do such a great number of academic works?
Didn’t he need really?
In Canada, I heard from some friends, followed by newspapers, that Iranian cultural institutions has appreciated Dr. Ravan’s endeavors in Literature and culture appointing a sum as reward or donation. They said that Ravan being gratitude of this appreciation, asked that the amount be give to one of Kabul’s charity centers, Lunatic Asylum. Those who delivered the news, were wondering how and why he did this while he himself did need it. I not only did not wonder, but the news reminded me another occasion I had seen many years ago while Dr. Ravan needed. It was about forty years ago when his translation of Mansoor-Hallaj’s Biography, by Luis Macignon was published by the Bonyad-Farhang_e_Iran (Iran Cultural Foundation ) . When the foundation sent him a check for his work, he returned the check, attaching a thanking letter, asking that the amount of the check be divided among the typesetters who had worked on that book in the printing house.
Imprisonment
Anyway, this period also passed and a very sad time was waiting for Dr. Ravan as well as for his friends. It was when he was imprisoned, as were thousand other Afghan scholars, intellectuals and elites(c. 1978-1980). Here, I do not want to recall those bitter tormenting memories of which most readers are aware. I just like to mention his answer to a question I frequently heard in various sessions from him. When he was asked of the most difficult moments in the prison, he would say: It was when they called one or many of our friends and took them some where we knew why the took them and we did not know where they were left (soulless). Perhaps for Ravan there had had been more difficult times from which he did not say anything but could see some traces of those days: He showed me a small hard stone retracted to a string like a locket then hung from his son, Hamed’s neck. In that stone was engraved by Ravan, the name: Hamed. It may have been engraved for tens of days, by a means one does not know.
I n the USSR
The political atmosphere became milder and Ravan, and many others, who survived, returned home. Thousands of friends and students went to see Dr. Ravan, it the first days of his coming back home. The number of the visitors was exciting.
In 1980 the government of Soviet Union wanted to show the Soviet life and communities to the Afghan elites. For the purpose a great number, around two hundred neutral, nonpartisan, intellectuals were invited to visit some Soviet Republics. Among the invitees were Dr. Ravan and I. Of course all of us were fond of visiting Central Asia where we were supposed to go. The delegation was comprised from different categories of intellectuals like university professors, teachers, poets, authors, translators, traders, clergies, craftsmen and others. I had many short trips before in companion of my teacher, Dr. Ravan, but this was our first long trip together. All along the trip, we were together. Of course this was an excellent opportunity for me to learn whatever I could from him. One may know how valuable is being in ancient cities of central
Asia accompanied with a scholar who knew scholarly and scientifically every inches of those places like Tashkent. Osh, Kokand, Dushanbe, and many other historical places of which we had only known through the classic texts.
I have many good memories from that trip all worth mentioning from which I will mention only a few:
At the time of that great man
We were in Frunze, the capital of Kirgizstan there was a literary session. There, a local poet recited a poem, an eulogy praising the deceased president. At the end, he asked the guests to cite their alike eulogies for that great man. Among the guests, Dr. Ravan rose his hand that made all the guest wonder what he would cite. He said ‘I just want to tell your honorable Professor, that at the time of that great man almost all writers and poets were in prison.’ This caused murmur among the guests and hosts and later we knew that the man was blamed for such a request.
Prediction of a long war
One night there was an invitation in a beautiful place named Charmaghzdare ( the Walnut valley). For the toast, the governmental speaker delivered a long speech, explaining the quality and quantity of walnut of that place and its export to foreign countries and so and so. On the tables there they had put trays of walnuts with nut-breakers. After the host speech, Dr. Ravan stood up , as a guest speaker and delivered a long speech on Panjsheer and its main product, walnut, from which Afghans make a sweet-like food, by adding mulberry(toot). He added that in difficult circumstances Afghans may live on only a small peace of tarkhan (walnut and mulberry) for months, even for years. He said that if there is famine, or if the an enemy power invades their territory, they will resist and fight for a long time with the help of walnut and mulberry.
There in the session a senior Afghan, sitting beside me, whispered and asked me if did I know what my teacher meant, and what he was predicting? I said, no, what did he mean? The man said, that Dr. Ravan was predicting a long war by Russia in Afghanistan, and he was right.
The grandparents’ songs of independence for soviet-invaded countries children
For us, it was not easy to imagine that Central Asian countries will get their independence and sovereignty in less than a decade. But Dr. Ravan, those days was telling me that parents were busy in Soviet-style life, and it were grandparents in whose bosoms their grandchildren were brought up. He would say that those grandparents would tell their grandchildren all the realities about their life and their culture, and those children who were future’s men and women would seek their lost Paradise. They would regain their culture and their sovereignty. And it was the truth. We saw it happened.
There, in every city we visited, both of us with the help of our nationalist Kirgiz guide would see cultural institutes where we were welcomed by people who were fond of seeing us whom they thought very near to themselves.
A flight for good
We were back home from the Soviet trip. Dr. Ravan was the Super Adviser in the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, but all he was thinking about, was how to leave. In those days, there was felt the necessity of compiling an Afghan edition of the Hajj Guidance, and Ravan was the best editor for such a book. He began and ended it immediately with the help of Prof. Habibullah Rafi who edited the Pashto version of that book. When it was the time for a payment for there work, both of them asked for a Hajj Pilgrimage and the government accept. Thus Ravan left Kabul. And did not returned.
A rude student?
Ravan’s kindness and tolerance has always permitted me to feel free in asking him tough questions; such a questions that nobody else would dare ask him. He always had and still has very reasonable answers to my questions.
With saying that some people were criticizing, once I asked him why did he take the duty of execution the wedding ritual in wedding parties, while there were certain persons for the job. He said: this is a cultural and religious duty for everybody. I am doing it because I want people not to down-look those who take that responsibility. Once it happened that Dr, Ravan was invited to a wedding party in Ottawa. He cited the Khotba (wedding prayer) and wrote all the documents himself, and it was really interesting for me. I was sorry for transferring others’ critics through my own questions.
Chastity of tongue
Ravan always has a clean tongue, and does not use ugly words. I remember when he was narrating a joke and the joke looked more serious than simple ludicrous joke. It happened that another person on the other occasion, narrated the same joke that one could not help laughing aloud. It was because Ravan had omitted an ugly word, in other word an F word.
Multidimensional scholarship
Ravan has a multilateral scholarship. His vast knowledge in politics, diplomacy, and linguistics is known all over the world. Half a century ago he wrote the book named Kabul Oral Language. He also wrote a book on Tajik Dialect. His books in mysticism have many prints, in Afghanistan and Iran. He also took participation in introducing modern literature in Afghanistan, and translated Topaz and Misunderstanding. He encouraged me to compile Herati Oral Language. He was my guide in my fist researches and writings, and thank to his encouragements, as one of his humble students could write and translate more than 30 topic of books an hundreds of articles.
October 12, 2009
Asef Fekrat
Ottawa-Canada

In Those Days:

Nawrooz in Herat

I remember childhood’s beautiful times,
Those exciting spring-days of childhood
(From a Persian song)


Keywords:
Nawrooz; Nowrooz; Norooz; Herat; Chella; Seagull; Swallow; Spring-cleaning; Charshanbe-sooree; Eavesdropping; Falgoosh; New Year’s Napery; Haftseen; Haft-miwa; Sabza; Samanu

First signs of spring
Those days, from the first week of February (second decade of Dalw or Bahman, Persians' eleventh solar month) we smelt the sweet smell of spring. Not only we believed that Chella khurd (Little Forty, from first of February to 10th of March) was much warmer than Chella kalaan (The Big Forty, from December 21 to February 1st) but we also felt it as a reality. If there were snow on the ground, a clear steam was rising from beneath of that snow, as if the Earth were respiring. Even in Kabul, where there is a colder winter, they believe likewise. I had heard from Kabuli seniors: Forty days to Aries, hug the lamb! It means that forty days to Aries (almost 10th of February) the weather gets warm so cattle and sheep can give birth. It is interesting for us in Canada that this is the time when groundhog, for the first time, comes out from its home after the winter hibernation.
On February 20s the signs of spring were more clear. The flamboyant tree by the flowerbed of our house was beginning to flower, and the buds and ivies of the only vine plant were parading. The presence of the spring became more realistic when gardeners brought loads of fresh but leafless branches which they had cut in the yearly pruning in the country. These branches remained many days on the courtyard before moving to the kitchen stock. We played with those branches and examined their freshness. They had a violet bright skin and when we broke them, the inside of sprigs was watery and fresh and some of the buds had been grown to opening small leaves. We tried to chew them as if we were testing the delicacy of the spring. I think we called these woods, jungle. All these plays taught us experiences about how spring comes. During the month of Isfand or Hoot (Piscine) hyacinth and daffodil flowers were brought to shops for sale. I remember my grandfather was the first who bought and brought bunches of hyacinth and daffodil which were set at the shelf of the living room, scattering sweet smell and beautifying the decoration of the room. On March weekends, people began going picnic, to the skirts of Takht e Zafar (means Throne of Triumph) mountains, where thousands of purple and flamboyant flowers were flourished. On returning back, some picked and brought bunches of these flowers as messengers of spring. These flowers were the clearest signs of spring. Appearance of immigrant birds on the sky was another sign of Nawrooz. Those birds were and are called Nawroozi-birds (seagull). Sometimes seagulls were fallen when there was a storm; otherwise they flied through dept of sky, and we could see their orderly rows as well as could hear their sounds and crowing.

Swallows, the guests of the warm seasons
Then it was swallows’ turn to come and check their nests. We assumed, every year, that the same last years’ swallows were coming. They checked their nests, and if the nests need repair they repaired them by bringing mud and straws and they were doing the repairing job as if they were expert architects. Swallows built nests on the ceilings of rooms. People loved swallow and liked their songs. They believed that swallows were citing a short chapter of the Holy Book. They were beautiful black birds with red beak. They did not harm any body even they did not eat any thing at home but they found worms, and might be insects, from streams and brooks and river beds, to living on. Swallows liked to swing; so people fixed swings for them near their nests. They sit on the swing, swinging; while they were singing, what we were told, were verses from the Holy Book.
No conserve foods anymore
This (Chella Khurd=Little Forty) was the time when we had to leave some of our winter habits that we were forced to have them during the cold season. We stopped cooking and eating dried meat, and some other conserved foods because our seniors believed those things were not healthy anymore.
Spring cleaning
Then we had our yearly spring cleaning before Nawrooz. Spring cleaning is a traditional custom of Aryans’ like Iranians, Tajiks, Afghans, and others in the Meddle East and Central Asia. During the spring cleaning, people moved all house wares, washed and cleaned them. They also moved curtains, carpets and rugs, and washed them or shook them to drive all the dust that was sat on them during the last year. They cleaned all floors and walls and ceilings by brooms and other devices; then they placed everything to its place and rearranged the rooms for the New Year. They often repainted the rooms.
Special days and nights
Charshanbe-sooree
There were some special days and nights around Nawrooz; like the years last Wednesday, some called Charshanbe-Sooree (means Red Wednesday, or Happy Wednesday) and the years first Wednesday, and thirteenth of Nawrooz.
On Cahrshanbe-Sooree, people lit huge pyres of fire in open spaces, and while the fire was all flames, youngsters jumped over the fire from one side to the other side saying:
Your redness mine; my paleness yours.
In other words, they were addressing the fire:
Take my pale face and my grief and sorrows, and burn them
Instead, give me a red joyful face
So I live joyfully all next year.
The tradition of making fire on last Wednesday night of the year, and some other special days and nights, is an old custom and one can find accounts of this tradition in detail in Persian classics.
Eavesdropping on Charshanbe-sooree was another old folkloric custom that in Persian is called Faalgoosh. It was thus that somebody, who liked to know about his or her destiny or about the result of some work or subject, would stand at the back of a door or a window listening to what insiders were talking. This person took some of their conversation as an omen and would anticipate his or her future or the future of the subject that was meant.
Nawrooz’ Moment
Then it was Nawrooz itself. Time of transition to New Year differs. It is being appointed by astronomers according to their astronomic calculations and accounts for the end of every year. Sometimes it may be in the morning, while another year may be in the afternoon or midnight. Even it’s being accounted for minutes and seconds. Transfer time of the year would be declared by astronomers who were called Monajjem, in Arabic, and Setara-shenas, in Persian, both which are translations for astronomer. Those days, in every country, there was only one Astronomer, mostly an official one. He made a calendar, which was a booklet around 24 pages or more, for one year. This calendar had all information for one year. In the calendar, even there were some advises for people about there personal lives. What they should do and what they should avoid during certain days. It was according to the belief they had for the influence of stars on human life. Nawrooz’ exact time, that was at a certain hour, minute and second, was also mentioned in the calendar, mostly on the front page. For example, Persian coming year will transfer on Wednesday, Farverdin 1, 1387, at the hour 18:9 and 19 second and here in Ontario, Canada on Thursday, March 20, 2008, at 1:48 AM.
There were some traditional rules that people observed at the time of transferring to New Year. All members of the family tried to be at home together. They were all bathed and wore clean clothes sit by the “Sofra-ye-Nawroozee” which means the Napery of the New Year, waiting for the New Year’s transition, there were fantastic folkloric imaginations. According to one belief the Earth was placed on one horn of the Cow while the Cow was stood on the back of the Fish. So at transition time, the Cow moved the Earth on his other horn. It was why some people put an egg on a laid mirror or on another smooth level. They believe that when the cow moves the Earth to his other horn, the egg would move and would tumble.
New Year Napery
For the arrangement of the Napery, people started to at least ten days before Nawrooz. They had to prepare Green, which is called Sabza, as Tajiks pronounce, of Sabzeh, as Iranians pronounce. They put a piece of clean cloth in a plate. Then they bring some seeds, like oat, lentil or grass pea, on the cloth then pour some water to wet it and keep it fresh. They put also another piece of cloth to keep the moist. They water the plate every day. After a couple days, the seeds sprout, and the upper cloth should be taken over, not to prevent the growth of the sprouts. At the eve of Nawrooz, the green in the plate looks like a micro-flowerbed. The height of the green will be around five centimeters or a little higher. This beautiful green may have a red or any color ribbon around it neat knotted. There may be many plates of Sabza as one likes to have on the napery. These greens on plates are kept inside till thirteenth of Nawrooz. Then they are thrown on the garbage. Some place them on the trunk of their cars while leading to 13th picnic.
One may ask what the reason for making such a green is. It is because an ancient time people liked to have their Nawrooz ceremony outside in open air, and on lawns and in gardens. Since in some regions there was still wintry weather, people contrived to bring a piece of spring inside. These green plates were those pieces of spring.
Another way of having green is cress on the pitcher. They take a new earthen pitcher, and stick a wet cotton cloth all around the outer surface of the pitcher; then they spread a layer of cress seeds all over the cloth. They fill the pitcher with water. Every day they refill the pitcher which loses some water by secretion and being absorbed by the seeds. After a couple of days the pitcher turns to a beautiful green one, by the new sprout herbs.
Haft-seen
Haft-seen means 7S’s; it is a napery or a tray in which there are seven plated filled with seven items that their names begin with S. Like Seeb (apple), Sanjid (service), Sirka (vinegar), Sakka (coin), Seer (garlic), Sumac (sumac), and Samanu. People have many reasoning for choosing these seven items, but the fact might have been that in ancient times people liked there napery or table to be decorated with things resembling God-given gifts as foods. They though what how there napery was at the transition instance, it would be likewise till the end of the year.
Haft-miwa
Some people choose seven kinds of dried fruit. They soak them, after cleaning them, for two tree days; then at the first days of the New Year they serve a cup of the fruit soaked in the water for their guests or they send a jar of it to their friends and relatives.
In the napery, people also put many other things for the omen. They put many boiled colored eggs, apples, oranges and other fruits and sweets they may have at home or the afford to prepare. They also put there a holy book, rosary and mirror.
Samanu
Samanu was another special dish for Nawrooz that people prepare for both the taste and its omen. Samanu is made of the wheat sprouts. They grind the sprouts and cook it in water. Without sugar, it turns to a delicious sweet dish. Samanu is usually cooked by women and it requires some traditional rituals to become proper. The cooks and audience should be clean and should wear clean clothes. During the cooking, while they stir the boiling pot, they sing a special song made for the samanu cooking. A plate of samanu is being put on the Nawrooz Napery and many plates or bowls are sent to friends and relatives to put on their own naperies or tables. Since cooking samanu is not an easy job, only a few families can cook it, and that is also with the help of other women who come and help in stirring and singing. So, samanu party is a very happy and amusing party for women.
Pray for the New Year
In the eve of the New Year’s transition instance, all members of the family, all bathed and in clean and neat clothes, came and sat together by the napery. There were some prays and benedictions for this moment; the most famous, this one:
O God, Thou, the turner of hearts and eyes
O, God, Thou, the Creator of day and night
O God, Thou, the transferor of the states and time
Turn our state into its best.
People had special dinner for Nawrooz; some preferred a spinach dish with meat and rice, while some liked to have fish with rice.
Thus they welcomed the New Year and they hoped to be likewise in a good mood all the year. Of course these ceremonies and rituals for Nawrooz were not practiced all over the communities. Most people had abandoned them for many reasons. Some reckoned them as antireligious while some others disliked them because they were being practiced by some other nations. The fact is that these ancient customs are neither in contrast with any religion nor with any national value. They show the values and the knowledge of the ancient people.
In ancient times there was a 13-day vacation but now in most countries there is a one-day holyday. Some people go to other cities even outside the country while others stay and exchange parties with relatives and friends. Some go to countryside and enjoy fresh air of the first days of spring. On the day or the days of Nawrooz there were different amusements and entertainments for children and youngsters.
A great number of people travel to the holy shrines and spend New Year’s first days there. Some people travel to Mazar-Sharif where is believed to be the Holy Shrine of Ali, the fourth caliph of the Islam Prophet.

Ottawa, March 1, 2008
Asef Fekrat

غزل

بهارکده
زبهـــر ســـوختـن آمــاده ام چـــــــو خارکده
تبســّمی کـن و بنــــــــگــر مــرا بهــــار کده
چه گفت دل؟ چو فکندی تو گیسوان بـردوش
ز تـــار زر بـه کجـــــــا دیدی آبشـــــار کده
تو پای شـستی و زین بعد چشـمه سـاران را
ســــــــزد که نـــام گـذارند خوشـــــگوارکده
چنـین که وصف رخ دوست نقل محفل ماست
شــــگفت نیست شــــبـــــستان شود هزارکده
چه گویمــت که فراقـــــت چه کرد با دل من
قــــرار گاه مرا ســـــــاخت بیقـــــــرار کــده
به بوســـتان شدم و بی رخ تو سروســـــــتان
هــــــراســناک تـــــر آمد مـــــــرا ز دارکده
ســـــرم به صحبت سرگشتگان وادی عشــق
چو هســــت گرم، چه کارم به هـوشـــیارکده
گـــره ز کار به دانشـــگهـــــم که بگشــــاید
که ساخت گردش چشم تواش خمــــــــارکده
نیـــــامدی و مرا بی تو روزگار گذشــــــت
جهـــــان به دیدۀ فکرت شد انتظـــــــــارکده

فبروری 2008 – آصف فکرت

غزل پرندوش

مشت و نگاه و لاله

هـر شــــــام لاله زار ســـیه پوش می شود
یارب چراغ عــشـق که خامـوش می شود؟
مشتی که دمبــدم تو گره می کـــنی به نـــاز
آویـــــزۀ کــــدام بُـــناگـــوش می شـــــود؟
من جان، نثــار مُـشت تو دارم به کف، ولی
این مُـشـــــــتها چو باز شد آغوش می شود
این لحظه را به خاطره یی جاودانه ســـــاز
امشب چو دوش و دوش پرندوش می شود
پیــرانه نکـــــته ها ست جــوانا! شـــنـیدنی
بشنو و گـــرنه قصّه فــرامــوش می شــود
تا قصّـــــۀ نگــــاه تـو را نغـــــز بشـــــنوم
پیش تو هردو دیــــدۀ من گوش می شــــود
در باغ چون به موی تو پیچـد نســیم صبح
برگ بنفــشـه خون ســـــــیاووش می شود
گاهی که زهـــــر زنـــــدگی آزار می دهد
یاد تــــو می کنـــم، بخدا، نوش می شـــود
من چون ز خویشـــتن نروم؟ پیــر عقل نـیز
پیـــش نگاه مســت تـو مدهـــوش می شـود
اتاوا- 23 جولای 2007
آصف فکرت

غزل

آن زمان

خوش آن زمان که دلــم تنگ ِ تنگ ِ تنگ نبود
دل تو نیز چنین ســـنگ ِ ســنگ ِ ســنگ نبود
بلی" جواب تو بود،آن "بلی" درنگ نداشت -"
و گفــتنِ " نه " ات ایــنگونه بی درنــگ نبود
بر آتشـــــــــــم تو نشــــاندی چنین وگرنه مرا
گمــان قهـــر نبـــود و زبــــان جـــنــگ نـبود
به حضـــرت تو مــرا زهــــر نوشـــدارو بود
به دوری تو مرا شــــهد جـــز شــــرنگ نبود
ز عنـــدلیــب شـــــنــیدم بـه بــانگ یکــرنگـی
چه بودی ار به گلســـــــتان گـُل ِ دورنگ نبود
به من اگر نشدی عرصه در خراســـــان تنگ
مرا، به جان تو ســـوگند، جــا فرنگ نــــــبود
شــــــدم فرنگی و دانی که پیـــــر صــنعان را
ز خوکبـــانی در کـوی عشــــــــــق ننگ نبود

آصف فکرت
شهریور 1385/ 10 سپتامبر 2006

زبان و آشنایی

شکرپاره ها

سه پاره است اگر
سه نام دارد اگـــر

زقند پارسیان تا زبان تاجیکان
زبان نغز دری
به کام من بخدا هر سه پاره شـــــــیرین است
سه پاره است ولی بیگمان ز یک شـکر است

اتاوا 25 جولای 2007
آصف فکرت
........................................

آشنایی

ندانم دلبر سعدی زکابل بود یا از بلخ
ولیکن بلبل دستانسرای عاشق شیراز
به هنجار دری از وی سخن گفتن همی آموخت *ـ
*
گرم رانند و گر بیگانه ام خوانند
مرا با شهریاران، شهرداران نیست پیوندی و پیمانی
ولی من آشنای دلبر شیرازی خویشم
چرا گویم زبانش را نمی دانم
پیامش را نمی خوانم
گرفتم آنکه آسان در نیابم من زبانش را
ولی باشد مرا فرّی ز فرهنگی
که گوید "همدلی از همزبانی خوشتراست" ای دوست!ـ

اتاوا 27 جولای 2007
آصف فکرت
..............................................

: سعدی فرماید*
هزار بلبل دســـــتانسرای عاشق را
بباید از تو سخن گفتن دری آموخت

سروده های امسال

زندگی
خوانده ام که: ـ
زندگی ترانه نیست
داستان عاشقانه نیست! ـ
دیده ام ولی، که با تبسمت
زندگی ترانه می شود
داستان عاشقانه می شود

اتاوا، 21 جولای 2007
آصف فکرت
………………………..

بگذارکه دوســتـت بدارم

در باغ دلــم چنــان که دیــــدی
صـــد گلبن برگــزیــــــده دارم
وز هــر گلبن، اگــر بخواهـــی
بــس قصّـــــــۀ ناشـــنیده دارم

* * *
از خون دل من ا ســت کاینســان
این گلهـــا را شکـفتــــه بیـــــنی
گر ژرف نظـــــرکنی بسی داغ
در هـــر برگی نهفتـــــه بیــــنی
* * *
ای دوست خوش آمدی که خواهی
امــــــــروزتو هم گلـــی نشــانی
بنشــین که ببــــینمـــت، وگــــر نه
گل داغ دل ا ست اگـــر نمـــــانـی
* * *
گفتی که« بخواه چیزی از من!
باشــد که توانــــــــم و برآرم »
ای دوست! اگــر که می توانی
بگــــــــذار که دوســتـت بدارم

اتاوا، 20 جون 2007
آصف فکرت
…………………………
درس دبستان *
آن روز معلـّـم خواند{:} « من آب روانسـتم
من آب روانــــــــستم {:}من راحت جانستم » ـ
000
گر خواندن مطلب را{:}تقلــید توانســـــــــتم
مـن درس معلـّـم را{:}آن روز ند انســـــتم
000
پیرانه سرم عشقــت{:}در دل شرری افروخت
وان درس دبستان را{:}امروز به من آموخــت
000
من تشـــنۀ دیــــــدارم{:} ای آب روان مـــن
من پیـــکر بی جــانــم{:}ای راحــــت جـان من
اتاوا، 14 جون 2007
آصف فکرت

یکی از دروس قرائت فارســی دری در ســـــال دوم دبســـتان ـ
مکتب موفق هرات، 1333 خورشیدی، با این بیت آغاز می شد: ـ
من آب روانســـتم----- من راحت جانستم
..........
زود گذر
دریغ عهد جوانی که زود می گـــــــذرد
چو برق می زند آتش چو دود می گذرد
چه سود تنگدلی زانچه بود و زانچه نبود
شکفته ایم که بـــود و نبـــود می گـــذرد
منــال زانکه به درد تو دل نســــــــوزاند
کسی که روز و شبش با سرود می گذرد
حساب سود و زیان کردم و ندانســـــــتم
که ماندگار زیان است و سـود می گذرد
من از شکســـــت دل بیدلان همی ترسم
کــــــه تیــــر آه ز چـرخ کبود می گذرد
اســـــیر زلف تو گردم که دل به دنبالش
ز صدهـــزار فراز و فرود می گــــذرد
ز من فراق تو خاکســتری به جای نهاد
چو آتشــــــی که بر اهل هنود می گذرد
اتاوا، 11 جون 2007
آصف فکرت
.......................
آیینۀ بهار
مرا گفتی ای جان که بی باده مستم
خدا را سپاس اینچنیـــــنم که هستم
می تلخ بر طـــــاق بالا نهــــــــادم
که از آب انگور بـــــــاغ تو مستم
بیـــندازدم گردش چشمت از پــای
تبســـّم نگیرد گر از لطف دستــــم
سر افکنـــــده دارد مرا کفر نعمت
به فصل گل ار سربزانو نشــــستم
گیاه و گل و سنگ خنـدد به رویم
به دست بهـــــاران من آیینه هستم
در قصـّه را تا به رویم گشــــودی
در غصــّه را خشت پی کرده بستم
چو زان آتشــین روی رخ برنتــابم
ملامت کنـــــــندم که یزدان پرستم
به گوشم چو ناقوس پــژواک دارد
ز نابخردی گر دلــی را شـکســـتم
چو زنجیــــر بارست بر گردن من
به غفـلت اگر رشته یی را گسستم
نیفتد به هفتــــاد هم فکرت از پای
نگویی که بشکــــست آسیب شستم
اتاوا – 8 جون 2007
آصف فکرت
..............................
پیام دوست
اگـــر امیـد وصالیــسـت انتظـار خوش است
پیـــام دوســت چومی آورد بهــار خوش است
هـمی پــــــراکــند اردیبهشـت بــوی بهـشـــت
برآ زخانه که گلگــشــت لاله زار خوش است
بشـــــــارتیــــست مرا از صفا و پاکی و اوج
از آن به گـوش من آهـــنگ آبشار خوش است
ز روزگار مـن ای نازنــین چه می پرســـــی؟
کنون که پیش منی روزوروزگار خوش است
مرا چو بــــار، غم یار و کار، عشــــق آمــــد
چرا شکفته نباشم؟ چو کار و بار خوش است
فدای آهـــــوی چشـــمت شــوم که تاخـتـنــش
ســواد دل را پنهــان و آشـــــکار خوش است
مـرا شـــــکار نفـــــارد مــگر شکاری نــغــــز
که صید نیز چو صیّاد ازآن شکار خوش است
رقیب گفت به هر ســاز دوست می رقصـــی
بگو خوشـــیم برادر به آنچه یار خوش اسـت
بدو خوشـیم و به پیغام او خوشـــیم که دوست
به ما، اگرچه تو راهسـت ناگوار، خوش است

اتاوا، 9 اردیبهشت(ثور) 1386/29 اپریل 2007
آصف فکرت
........................
باغ دل
گر قهری و گر آشتی، ای دوســت، بگو
آهـنگ کجا داشـــــتی؟ ای دوســت، بگو
دل را نگــَه ِ تــو می دهــــد آب امــروز
آنجا چه گلی کاشــــتی ای دوست؟ بگو! ـ
اردیبهشت(ثور) 1386/ 27 اپریل 2007
آصف فکرت
............................
خبر داشته باشی
آندم که بر افلاک گـــــذر داشـــته باشی
بر خاک هم ایکاش نظــر داشــته باشی
ما تشــــــــنۀ گفتـار، تو خاموش چرایی؟
بر دوست بیفـشان چو شکر داشته باشی
درباغم و بی روی تو داغم خبرت هست؟
سوزد دل ســـنگ تو اگر داشــــته باشی
بی ما تو بمان دیر و بزی شـــاد و لیکن
ما بی تو نماندیم، خبر داشــــــــته باشی
خونین جگرم بی سـببی نیست، چه گویم
باید که ببینی و جــــگر داشـــــته باشی
دی راهبه یی دیدم و گفتم که شبت خوش
گفــتا که بگو نکتــه یی ار داشــته باشی
گـفتـم که سزاوار صلیب تو ام ایکا ش
بر من گذری شــام و سحر داشته باشی
گفتـا که مزن لاف که عیســی نتوان شد
تنــها به همین قدر که خر داشـته باشی
ازعشـق پشــیمان مشو اما که درین شهر
بد نیست بدین مایه هنر داشـــــته باشـی
گفتم که درین شهر نبــینم خـر و اســـــتر
گفت ار نظر ژرف نگر داشــــته باشی
جهل تو خر توست فرود آی و روان شو
تا بر زبر چرخ گذر داشـــــــــته باشی
میخــانه و مسجد ز من و شیخ خرابست
گفتم به تو کاز هردو حذرداشــته باشی

شهر اتاوا، 12 فروردین(حمل) 1386
اپریل 2007
آصف فکرت
.............................
نوروز و پیمان کهن
***
پیــــمانه اگر پـُـردهی ای مهــــــردل ا فــروز
پیــــــــــمان کهــــــن تازه توان کرد به نوروز
می ده، نه از آن می کــه خــِرد را بـــزدایــــد
می ده خـِردافـــــزای وروانبخـش و دل افروز
آن می، می ِعشـق است و به لبخند تو جاریست
مســـتی دهدم مــوجی از آن هفــت شـــبـاروز
اســــفند مه آخـر شد و نوروز به راهســــــت
نــوروز هــمــه روز و همه روز ِ تو پیـــروز
بنشــین نفســی تا سخن دوست بگویــــــــــیم
ای دوســـت رهــا کن خبر دشــــمن کین توز
مــن از ســــخـــنت گـل چــنم و از غزل من
تو دُرّ ِ دری در صفـــــت خویشــــــتن اندوز
یک صبح چو من ســـوی چمن آی و نوازش
از دســـت صـــــبا بر گل و خــار چمن آموز
جمعیّـت احبــاب دمی هست و دمی نیســـــت
حیــف اســت به فــردا فکــنی وعـدۀ امــروز
اتاوا- 11 مارچ 2007 آصف فکرت

چه دل؟
***
از حــال دل مپـرس که ســـــــرتا بـــــپا دلم
امـّا چه دل؟ کـه ورد منســـت: ای خدا دلـم! ـ
آمــــــوخــــت داربـاز فلـک دالـــــــبازیــــم
دوری و درد و داغ درآویخــــت بـا دلـــــــم
دیــرآشــــناست، لیک چو شد آشــــنا به کس
یکـــدم جـــــــدا نمی شود از آشنــــــــــا دلم
در آســــتان دوســـت برد درد را ز یـــــــاد
گوید، رســـــــیده ایم به دارالـشـــــّفا، دلـــم
نارد جز از تو یاد و نگیرد جز از تـو نـــام
ای نـــازنیـــــــن ببین که چه کردی تو با دلم
گفتــــم دل آرمـــــید، دلارام می رســـــــــــد
گشــــتســت از قدوم تـــو معجـــز نمـــا دلـم
بنشــین که دل ز بوی خوشت جان تازه یافت
تــــا کــــــی نیازمند نســــــیم صبــــــا دلــم؟
حاجت به شرح نیست که دانی چو پیش توست
شـــاد است و همچو باغ بهشـــت است وا دلم
دور از تو شـــــــرح غصـّـۀ دل نیست گفتنی
آتشـــکده ست ســـــــــــینه ام، آتش نوا دلـــم
گر جان فکرت از تن خــــاکی رود چه باک؟
مپســــــند کاز کمنـــــــد تو گردد رهـــــا دلم
آصف فکرت
اتاوا، اول مارچ 2007/ 11 اسفند (حوت) 1385 ـ
..........
با دوســـت
***
پرســــند کـرا داری؟ ای دوســـــــت تو را دارم
گر بی کس و بی کویم، هم پیـــــــش تو جا دارم
مـن خــوی تو را جــویــــــم در بوی گلاب و گل
من بــوی تـو را ای دوســت از بـاد صبــــا دارم
گـر باز کنم دل را صــــــــد مهــر دمد بــــیرون
تـا دل به کمنـــد توســـت در سـینه ســــــما دارم
بی پـــرده ســــخن گویم خــاک ســــــر آن کویم
مـن این همه گر دارم از لطف شــــــــــما دارم
بر دیده ام ازخویشان گر خار نشست ای دوست
از خـاک ســـــر کــــویت در دیــده جـــــلا دارم
گویی چه هنــــر داری در این همه دلـــجویـی
ای دوست مگو با کس، من مهـر گیــــــــــا دارم
مـــن ذرّه گکـــی خـُردم از دامـــن کـــازرگــــاه
از دولـــت آن خـاک است کاین مهر و صفا دارم
دور از هـــری و بلخـــم گر خامـُش و گر تلخـم
بر یاد نیســـــــــتان است گر شــــور و نوا دارم
آصف فکرت
اتاوا – 16 فبروری 2007 / 27 بهمن 1385 ـ
........

درد پنهان
من آن صیــــدم که هرکس بینــد آه و زاریم بیند
نه صیّـــــادم شناســـــد کس نه زخــم کاریم بیند
بــه خوابی بس هراس انگیز ماند شرح درد من
به خواب مــن بخنــــدد هرکســـی بیـــداریم بیــند
به خود می پیچم از ســـنگینی زنجیر و خاموشم
چه دانــــد آنکه بر اوج جنون هـُشیــــــاریم بیند
ز پای دل کشـــم خار و به دفتر گل همـی کارم
بـخندد آن گـل خوشـــبوی چون گـُلکاریم بینــــد
مســـــیحایم که جان بخشد مرا فیـض حضور او
به لطفـــــی کاو مرا بینــــد کجا بیمـــاریـــم بیند
بدین درمانـــدگی ذوق حضــــور عشـق را نازم
که آن آرام جــــــان دل جـــوید و دلداریم بینــــد
هـــــمیـــن بس کاتش دل تــابد از روی عرقناکش
چرا آن چشمـــــــــــۀ خورشید اشک جاریم بینــد
آصف فکرت
اتاوا – 16 فبروری 2007
بهمن 1385
.......................
نشیب و فراز
غم فراق تو گر هســــت جانگـــــدازترین
پیــــام گاهگهــت هســــت دلنــــوازترین
چه پرســـــیــَم که شب انتظار چون گذرد؟
شــبی ســیاهترین و شـــــــبی دراز ترین
مرا تغـــــــافل و یاد تو می برد از خویش
گهی نشـــــــــیب ترین و گهی فرازترین
دمی به گردش چشــمی بســــاز کار مرا
که هست گردش چشم تو کارسـاز ترین
نیازمند تو بودن سـعادتیـــست که هســت
نیــازمند تو از خـلق بی نیــــازتـــــــرین
به پیش من که سرم خاک آستان شما ست
شـگفت نیست که شیخ است بی نمازترین
چو بشـکفــد گـُل یــاد تــــو در دل تنــگم
دل از میـــان همه باغهاســــــت بازتریــن
بهمن(دلو) 1385/6 فبروری 2007
شهر اتاوا- آصف فکرت
..............................
گــذ شــــــت
چگویمت که چسان بی تو روزگار گذشت
چنـان گذشـت که گـُل نامد و بهـار گذشـت
رمیـده آهوی من! ســر به دامنــــم داری
شــنیده ای که مرا رغـبت شـکار گذشـت
دل فــســـرده ام امشــب شـــکفـتـنـی دارد
مگر که محمل جانان به لاله زار گذشـت
تو دسـت نازبه گیسـو کشـیدی و دل گفت
سـپیده بود و به زرّینه آبشــــــار گذشــت
زرشک روی تو نیم بهشت دوزخ گشت
ز تاب حسن بدانسو چو یک شرارگذشت
همه نکویی ورزند و نیک اندیشــــــــــند
چو یاد دوست به بلخ و به نوبهـار گذشت
چو جان ِ شــیرین بود آنچه انتظار تو بود
مرا که عـمر به سختی در انتظـارگذشت
ز کار و بار من ای نازنین مپرس که بار
مراست زندگی و کار من ز کار گذشــت
چه گفت؟ گفت که این مرهم از کجا آمد؟
چو یاد لعــل لبـــت بر دل فـگار گذشت
غم نهان من و لطف آشـــکار شــــــــــما
گذشت، گر چه که پنهان و آشکار گذشت
جنوری 2007/ 13 دی (جدی) 1385
آصف فکرت

.........................
اصل بهار
بهــــار زردی روی مـرا فـــزود، بیا
مرا چوسبز پســندی، تو زود زود بیا
به هر چمن که تو آیی، گل و بهار آید
گل و بهــار و چمــن بود یا نبود، بیــا
تویی که اصل بهـاری و بی عنایت تو
نه من برم نه چمن از بهـــار سود، بیا
صــدای پای تو آهنـگ نم نم ِ بـــاران
نشـسته ام به رهت، تشـنۀ سـرود، بیا
بیا و هســـتی من بر فــروز با نگهی
که بی تو راه نفـس را گرفته دود، بیا
مرا به گردش چشمی بدان فراز کشان
نگویمت که تو بر خاکیـان فـــرود بیا
میازمـای مرا بیش ازین به درد فراق
که در وفـای توام عشـق آزمود، بیـــا
.......
یکم جنوری 2007/ 11 دی(جدی) 1385
آصف فکرت – شهر اتاوا

غنچهء نیمه وا

اگــــــر عشـــق و امـّــیـــــد را دوســت دارم
به عشــــــق و امیـــــــد شــــما دوســت دارم
به زود آشنــــــــــایان ثبــــاتی نـــــدیــــــــدم
ازان، یــارِ دیــــــر آشــنـــا دوســــــــت دارم
مــن آن دوســـت دارم کـــه از دوســــت آیــد
چنین گــه وفــــــا، گه جـــفـــا دوســــت دارم
ســـــر و جــان و دل را اســــیــر کمــــنــدت
ز دام تـــعــلـّــــق رهــــــــا دوســـــــت دارم
تــو را دوســــــت دارم کــــه آرام جــــــــانی
تــو را نــز برای خدا دوســــــــــــــــت دارم
چه خوش گفـت دل چون به زلف تو پیوســت
من آنجــا نشــــــینم کجا دوســـــــــــــت دارم
چو خوانی مرا، یـــا چـو گویی "بـــیــایـــم"،
مـن این جانــفـــــزا مـــژده ها دوســــت دارم
بـــرای "منـــــــم! باز کن در!" دهـــــــم جان
از آن لــب " پس اکنون بیا!" دوســـــت دارم
گـــــــرفــتــن پیــــامی کـــه بـــوی تـــو دارد
ز دســــت نســــیم صــــبــا دوســــــــت دارم
اگـــر درد من درد عشــــــــق تو باشــــــــــــد
مــن ایــن درد را، بی دوا، دوســـــــــت دارم
و گــر با تــو پــیمــــود خــواهــم رهـــــی را
رهـی دور و بی انتــــهــــــــــــــا دوست دارم
بجـُز تو که را دوســـــــت دارم؟ بگویــم ؟؟؟
تــو را و تـــو را و تـــــو را دوســــت دارم
دلم را به لـبــخــنــدی ای دوســـــــت بنــــواز
که مــن غنچــــه را، نیــمه وا، دوســت دارم
شهر اتاوا 4 دسمبر 2006 ـ
آصف فکرت
.............................
پیراهن زندگی

" من پیــر ســـال و ماه نیــم"
این کهنــه پیـرهـن که رهــایم نمی کنــد
پیـرم همی نـُمایــد و بدنـام داردم.
"چـِل ســال بیــش رفـت که من"
در کوی عشـق لاف جـوانـی همی زنـم
اینک هنـــــوز هم
این دل همـــان دل است
وین ســر همان سر است
ایـن دل هنـــــوز می تپــد اندر هوای دوسـت
وین سر درآن هواست که افتد به پای دوست
شهر اتاوا، 3 دسمبر 2006ـ
آصف فکرت