{"id":3318,"date":"2021-12-14T21:11:44","date_gmt":"2021-12-14T21:11:44","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.iwabogdani.org\/?p=2358"},"modified":"2023-12-21T13:22:29","modified_gmt":"2023-12-21T13:22:29","slug":"poems-by-umid-najjari","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.iwabogdani.org\/sq\/poems-by-umid-najjari\/","title":{"rendered":"Poems by Umid Najjari"},"content":{"rendered":"

Umid Najjari<\/strong><\/p>\n

Umid Najjari – (April 15, 1989, Tabriz, East Azerbaijan Province, Islamic Republic of Iran) – Poet, writer, translator, publicist, member of the Azerbaijan Writers’ Union and the World Union of Young Turkish Writers.<\/p>\n

Life<\/strong><\/p>\n

Umid Najjari was born on April 15, 1989 in the city of Tabriz. He received his primary education in \u0130ran. In 2009-2013 he studied at the Faculty of Electronics of the Tabriz branch of the Islamic Azad University. In 2016-2020, he studied at the Faculty of Philology of Baku Eurasian University, majoring in “Azerbaijani language and literature.” He is a member of the Azerbaijan Writers’ Union (AWU) and the World Union of Young Turkish Writers (DGTYB).<\/p>\n

Career<\/strong><\/p>\n

Umid Najjari began his career at a young age. His first works were published in the periodicals of Iran. He is the author of three books. In 2015, the books \u201cValley of Birds\u201d and in 2019 \u201cOn the other side of the walls\u201d were published in Iran. In 2019, the book “Photo of Darkness” was published in Azerbaijan. In 2020, a book of poems “SLIKA TAME” (in Serbian) was published in Belgrade and in 2021, a book of poems “FORGET” was published in Uzbekistan .<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

He achieved Samad Behrangi award in 2016. He was awarded the Ali bey Hosseinzadeh Award in 2019. He was awarded the International LIFFT festival diploma in 2019.<\/p>\n

On March 31, 2021, he was awarded by the Montenegrin Translators Association for his poetry and literary translations.<\/p>\n

On November 26, 2021, he was awarded the prestigious International IWA Bogdani Award in Belgium<\/p>\n

Najjari is also an active translator. He translated several books and poems that are examples of classical and modern Persian literature from Persian into Azerbaijani.<\/p>\n

His poems have been published in the United States, Serbia, Spain, Italy, Belgium, Canada, Turkey, Uzbekistan, Kazakhstan, Montenegro, Georgia, Chile and Iran.<\/p>\n

***<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Lack of candles <\/strong><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n

Lack of candles turns this house dark,<\/p>\n

The walls are cold because of the oven\u2019s lie<\/p>\n

Which sounds turn silent on the other side of these walls?<\/p>\n

All are thirsty for hands on the other side of the walls.<\/p>\n

You\u2019ll know more,<\/p>\n

You\u2019ll understand<\/p>\n

I ignore the rooms-<\/p>\n

I\u2019m telling about the windows open to the sea.<\/p>\n

\u2026 I ignore the ships \u2013<\/p>\n

I\u2019m telling you about the ships drown in the sea.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

.. Only leave the door open at nights,<\/p>\n

Just forget what happens on the other side of the walls,<\/p>\n

Forget what I said!<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u2026 I ignore the sun,<\/p>\n

Just light a match for me.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

***<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

My heart bag <\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

In hir loneliness room<\/p>\n

First a bird flew, then the sky ..<\/p>\n

I forgot<\/p>\n

I forgot my heart bag in taxi of your eyes<\/p>\n

\u2026 then<\/p>\n

I forgot myself in the longing caf\u00e9 of this city<\/p>\n

I don\u2019t know how many door pains have,<\/p>\n

I don\u2019t know about those died in moonlight<\/p>\n

I don\u2019t know the story of crying ones \u2026!<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u2026 But<\/p>\n

There\u2019s somebody on the earth, cries silently,<\/p>\n

\u2026 He never misses like a stone on the roads<\/p>\n

Never passes the earth like a cloud …<\/p>\n

He speaks of his wounds to the darkness,<\/p>\n

Behaves like a God to the letters in his heart \u2026<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u2026 you know<\/p>\n

If we don\u2019t draw wing to ourselves in the mirror,<\/p>\n

The rain drops clean it,<\/p>\n

We\u2019ll be forgotten one day.<\/p>\n

\u2026 you know<\/p>\n

Forgotten ones have used to give<\/p>\n

The skies to their eyes \u2026<\/p>\n

***<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

The sun is in prison <\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

The night attacks the city,<\/p>\n

The darkness looks at the depression from the balconies.<\/p>\n

We saw the children with our ears \u2026<\/p>\n

The children\u2019s bycicles- the fire bullets,<\/p>\n

Their toys- prisoners!<\/p>\n

The sun was cold in their paintings \u2026<\/p>\n

The walls standing up like soldiers,<\/p>\n

Walls- war.<\/p>\n

The shadows two times as us \u2026<\/p>\n

Bending our knees,<\/p>\n

Standing on our knees in silence of the words,<\/p>\n

\u2026 Our plams- for drinking water,<\/p>\n

Our palms- bird nest,<\/p>\n

Our palms- the latest religion.<\/p>\n

Just one time listen with your ears,<\/p>\n

But don\u2019t listen with your palms!<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u2026 Drought on the lips of the beloveds<\/p>\n

Kisses- corpuses on the tribunes of the mosques,<\/p>\n

The explosion of paradise in minarets of the mosques,<\/p>\n

Wheelchairs in churches,<\/p>\n

Autumn on mats \u2026<\/p>\n

A dog is lost in darkness of the alley \u2026<\/p>\n

The doors divorce each other.<\/p>\n

Ownerless houses, orphane houses \u2026<\/p>\n

You or others,<\/p>\n

No difference!<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

We- night,<\/p>\n

We- soldier,<\/p>\n

We-wall …<\/p>\n

At least a handful window,<\/p>\n

At least you can be a drop of water.<\/p>\n

The sun is in prison, the country \u2026!<\/p>\n

***<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

The somphony of separation <\/strong><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n

Throwing yourself to the embrace of dreams,<\/p>\n

Throwing the blanket of this city to your head,<\/p>\n

It\u2019s the best confession for forgetting \u2026<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u2026 Hold your collar,<\/p>\n

Get closer, reach for the world in the mirror,<\/p>\n

Comb the hairs in the mirror,<\/p>\n

Hold your hands in the mirror, a little.<\/p>\n

The mirror is the dialoge of lonelinees,<\/p>\n

Take the world in your palms,<\/p>\n

How you like, I can die,<\/p>\n

How you like, you can live!<\/p>\n

***<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

An homeland as big as umbrella <\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

You dreamt me<\/p>\n

The day, I forgot you<\/p>\n

When I found myself alone \u2026<\/p>\n

I\u2019m speaking to you from zigzak alleys of the autumn<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u2026 You dreamt me<\/p>\n

The nights when I became ash in city of winds<\/p>\n

When I loaded the roam to my eyes<\/p>\n

I\u2019m speaking from the radio of leaves<\/p>\n

\u2026 listen!<\/p>\n

I\u2019m one station away from you<\/p>\n

Loneliness is bitter drug, never treats my pains.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u2026 You dreamt me<\/p>\n

In a hook swallowed clound<\/p>\n

Whatever is seen in the mirror is all loneliness \u2026<\/p>\n

The hairs of my sensations turn white without you<\/p>\n

As you go far away, the wisdom-tooth of my feelings aches \u2026<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

My homesickness is as big as a begger beside the wall<\/p>\n

Every step is ennui without you \u2026<\/p>\n

Crying to my homesickness<\/p>\n

Keep me a homeland as big as umbrella under the rain!<\/p>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Umid Najjari Umid Najjari – (April 15, 1989, Tabriz, East Azerbaijan Province, Islamic Republic of Iran) – Poet, writer, translator, publicist, member of the Azerbaijan Writers’ Union and the World Union of Young Turkish Writers. Life Umid Najjari was born on April 15, 1989 in the city of Tabriz. He received his primary education in […]<\/p>","protected":false},"author":4,"featured_media":3941,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_exactmetrics_skip_tracking":false,"_exactmetrics_sitenote_active":false,"_exactmetrics_sitenote_note":"","_exactmetrics_sitenote_category":0,"footnotes":""},"categories":[171],"tags":[],"book_author":[],"book_publisher":[],"acf":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.iwabogdani.org\/sq\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3318"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.iwabogdani.org\/sq\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.iwabogdani.org\/sq\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.iwabogdani.org\/sq\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/4"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.iwabogdani.org\/sq\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=3318"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/www.iwabogdani.org\/sq\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3318\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":3948,"href":"https:\/\/www.iwabogdani.org\/sq\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3318\/revisions\/3948"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.iwabogdani.org\/sq\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/3941"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.iwabogdani.org\/sq\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=3318"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.iwabogdani.org\/sq\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=3318"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.iwabogdani.org\/sq\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=3318"},{"taxonomy":"book_author","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.iwabogdani.org\/sq\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/book_author?post=3318"},{"taxonomy":"book_publisher","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.iwabogdani.org\/sq\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/book_publisher?post=3318"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}