{"id":5332,"date":"2024-11-06T21:21:19","date_gmt":"2024-11-06T21:21:19","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.iwabogdani.org\/?p=5332"},"modified":"2024-11-06T21:21:19","modified_gmt":"2024-11-06T21:21:19","slug":"umid-najjari-vice-president-of-iwa-bogdani-2","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.iwabogdani.org\/sq\/umid-najjari-vice-president-of-iwa-bogdani-2\/","title":{"rendered":"Umid Najjari, Vice-President of IWA Bogdani"},"content":{"rendered":"

Umid Najjari<\/strong> was born on 15th of April 1989 in Tabriz (Iran). After graduating from Islamic Azad University of Tabriz in 2016, he entered Baku Aurasia University to continue his studies in Philology in Republic of Azerbaijan. \u201cThe land of the birds\u201d and \u201cBeyond the walls\u201d are among his published works in addition to some translations. His poems have been published in USA, Canada, Spain, Italy, India, Turkey, Uzbekistan, Iraq, Kazakhstan, Georgia, Chile and Iranian media. He was awarded the International LIFFT festival diploma in 2019. He achieved \u201cIWA Bogdani\u201d Award in 2021. He was awarded the \u201cMihai Eminescu\u201d Award in 2022. He was awarded the International Prize \u201cMedal Alexandre The Great\u201d in 2022. Najjari has also been elected Vice-President of the BOGDANI international writers\u2019 association, with headquarters in Brussels and Pristina. And He is an active member of the Turkic World Young Authors Association
\n.****<\/p>\n

Bermuda Triangle <\/strong><\/p>\n

I\u2019m a soldier who has lined his face to the cold wall of the trench<\/p>\n

My bullets are words \u2026<\/p>\n

Place your eyes on mine!<\/p>\n

We all are wounded in this war.<\/p>\n

We\u2019re all exiled in our land\u2026<\/p>\n

Place your eyes on mine!<\/p>\n

Your eyes are like Bermuda Triangle<\/p>\n

The gone never come back \u2026<\/p>\n

If you\u2019re asked, respond:<\/p>\n

The poet never came back!<\/p>\n

\n

***<\/p>\n

The snow<\/strong><\/p>\n

The nights that I miss<\/p>\n

Your voice is like a song that Lord recites<\/p>\n

Comes like snow to my morning.<\/p>\n

Silently\u2026<\/p>\n

White \u2026<\/p>\n

***<\/p>\n

Tragic Poem <\/strong><\/p>\n

A piece of me has stayed far away<\/p>\n

Under the rain<\/p>\n

Those are gone from me, don\u2019t have a \u201creturn\u201d ticket<\/p>\n

The storm is the nightmare of the trees on old nights<\/p>\n

The fingerprint of a woman is shivering in the fancy of windows<\/p>\n

A prisoner with hands like an elm leaf<\/p>\n

Whose voice as light<\/p>\n

In the name of the freedom<\/p>\n

\n

She may write this poem on the wall of his cell<\/p>\n

May give birth by the voice of pigeons instead of the sun this spring<\/p>\n

Instead of the bullet wound of the girl in this war<\/p>\n

May shot this poem into her heart \u2026<\/p>\n

\u201cMay\u201ds are birds of pain in the sky of wishes<\/p>\n

Fly \u2026 fly \u2026 and disappear.<\/p>\n

The past of my hands are Greek Gods<\/p>\n

Has been forgotten<\/p>\n

Buried in the cemetery of history<\/p>\n

My eyes were buried in your far beautifulness<\/p>\n

Bury me with my loneliness in autumn colors<\/p>\n

It\u2019s autumn \u2026<\/p>\n

Leaves are bulletin of elections<\/p>\n

The trees elect the death<\/p>\n

***<\/p>\n

\n

The cemetery of letter <\/strong><\/p>\n

I kissed the darkness of the night \u2026<\/p>\n

I entered into the sun pages of the morning.<\/p>\n

My hands bear the greenness of leaves,<\/p>\n

Spring is my hands \u2026<\/p>\n

Looked into the world to find my eyes.<\/p>\n

The legs of men pain,<\/p>\n

Scarf blows on the head of the woman,<\/p>\n

The scarf<\/p>\n

Blows like the flag of the country,<\/p>\n

Blows \u2026<\/p>\n

The hands are opened to the poem in my mind,<\/p>\n

Catches the skirt of twilight,<\/p>\n

The opened hands for the poem in my mind are shackled,<\/p>\n

Drowned in the sweat<\/p>\n

It\u2019s a long time, the mirrors don\u2019t show the poets<\/p>\n

Poets have been buried in the cemetery of letters<\/p>\n

Here, the sun sets down with the time of women<\/p>\n

Here, the wind blows from darkness<\/p>\n

\n

\n

***<\/p>\n

The love beast <\/strong><\/p>\n

Nothing remained for trust<\/p>\n

Nothing remained for waiting<\/p>\n

The last train left empty<\/p>\n

The people of memories didn\u2019t catch the train \u2026<\/p>\n

This season passed very hard<\/p>\n

\n

Like a year without spring<\/p>\n

Nothing remained for cheering glasses<\/p>\n

No kneed to rest our heads \u2026<\/p>\n

The color of my voice is autumn<\/p>\n

Falls from the boughs of love<\/p>\n

The lips are closed \u2026<\/p>\n

The window is covered by steam \u2026<\/p>\n

The beast of my love lives in a glass<\/p>\n

Breaks by a word<\/p>\n

I can die by a word \u2026<\/p>\n

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Umid Najjari was born on 15th of April 1989 in Tabriz (Iran). After graduating from Islamic Azad University of Tabriz in 2016, he entered Baku Aurasia University to continue his studies in Philology in Republic of Azerbaijan. \u201cThe land of the birds\u201d and \u201cBeyond the walls\u201d are among his published works in addition to some […]<\/p>","protected":false},"author":8,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","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":[165,162],"tags":[260],"book_author":[261],"book_publisher":[262],"acf":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.iwabogdani.org\/sq\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5332"}],"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\/8"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.iwabogdani.org\/sq\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=5332"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/www.iwabogdani.org\/sq\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5332\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":5334,"href":"https:\/\/www.iwabogdani.org\/sq\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5332\/revisions\/5334"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.iwabogdani.org\/sq\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=5332"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.iwabogdani.org\/sq\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=5332"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.iwabogdani.org\/sq\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=5332"},{"taxonomy":"book_author","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.iwabogdani.org\/sq\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/book_author?post=5332"},{"taxonomy":"book_publisher","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.iwabogdani.org\/sq\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/book_publisher?post=5332"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}