Tag Archive | Shiraz

Dancing street

 

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Dancing street is
Where I lived at in Shiraz

It was actually called
Ghasr’u’dast
The palace in the meadow
But we called it Raghs’u’dasht
The dancing street
As a tribute to the multitude
Of potholes that made us dance

It was a long narrow street
That led out of Shiraz
To the tiny town called Ghasr’u’dasht

There, at the end of a
Dead-end street
Called Zargary, the Goldsmith
My father built a house
Which seemed like a palace to me

It had many rooms
And a huge back yard
A large garage
And a multi-coloured gate
At the front

We had many dinner parties
And house-guests
My mother made meals fit
For a king
And we entertained a lot

We had guests from Tehran
The US and Africa
Some were relatives
Some were friends
And some were Baha’is from abroad

I remember walking and singing
In the grassy area of the back yard

And playing with the weeping willows
As I sang songs

This was my childhood home
Until we left Iran
It was off the dancing street
Outside Shiraz

Melancholy

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Shiraz
My childhood
My early teens
Traditional Persian music
An underlying sense of sadness
That’s what the music evokes in me
I don’t know why
Somehow I associate it with
Melancholy
Despondency
Something somewhat tragic

Maybe there is a sadness in the
Voices of those who sing
Maybe I just remember sad things
People living difficult lives
Not reaching their potential
Being deprived of freedom
So much wasted potential
And yet they sing
They carry on
What choice have they after all

 

January 26th, 2018

Back to my roots

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Back to my roots
To where I’m from
I left it long ago
When I was young

Back to my roots
To poetry and art
A place where I did not think
I belonged

Back to my roots
To the city of Shiraz
Where nightingales sing
and jasmine thrives

Back to my roots
Back to the East
Where the sun rises
And the day begins

Back to my roots
To the friends I left
To friends who have
Embraced me once again

Back to my roots
And it feels good
To feel grounded
To feel understood

December 13th, 2017

Collage of me

Collage:
Different colors , textures, and shapes
Put together in harmony to create beauty

My life is a collage of sorts
Various countries, languages
And cultures have shaped me

The base of this collage is created
With with earth tones
Colors that stand for the desert, the valley and
The bare mountains of Shiraz
The city of poets, roses and nightingales
The city I come from

Over the earth tones are other colors
That represent the rest of my life
The countries I’ve lived in
The languages I speak
And the different cultures that have influenced me

And though these parts seem distinct and disparate at times
They create whole that is the collage of me
A collage in which
Eastern and Western culture are intertwined
Its hallmark is diversity
Its message, love

August 2016

A window to my past

A window has been opened to my past,
Unexpectedly…
But don’t many things in life happen unexpectedly?

I’m now in touch with friends from high-school
Some still in Iran
Others living all over the world

We are all 35 years older now
But we share a special bond
Because of the year we spent together
In grade nine

Students from across Iran
Gathered in the Dabirestane Daneshgah
In the city of poetry and love, Shiraz

They’re now once again scattered across Iran
And even across the world
In Australia, Canada and Denmark…

Messages are sent back and forth
Pictures and poetry is shared
Friendships forged years ago
Are still alive and well!

But there is one thing that casts a shadow over this joy
And that’s the lack of freedom of Afif,
One of our dear friends….
Nevertheless this sadness is mixed with thankfulness
Because at least we have contact with him

The love and friendship I feel from everyone warms my heart
The love we all have for dear Afif is evident and clear
This connection after so many years… is unreal!

By way of Shiraz

We come here by way of Shiraz
Shiraz, the land of lovers
Shiraz, the land of those who suffered
Shiraz, the land of poets and seers
Shiraz, where we come from

We come here by way of Shiraz
Shirazi is what they call us
Shirazi girls are famous of course
For their beauty and ample brows

Shirazi’s are said not be in a hurry
We take our time
Shirazi’s are said to be gentle and patient
They don’t sweat the small stuff

We come here by way of Shiraz
We can trace our lives back to it
We can tell the stories of those who we knew
The streets we walked
The sites we saw
We can remember the neighbourhoods
Of this blessed town

We come here by way of Shiraz
We’ve found each other at Green Acre
Having lived in many climes
Since those long ago days in Shiraz

From the hot cities of Kenya
To the rainy ones in Luxembourg
From beautiful British Columbia
To the State of Virginia

We have come here by way of Shiraz
But we’ve seen the world in the meantime
Crossed oceans and mountains and lands
We have experienced ups and downs

But here we are at Green Acre
Four ladies from Shiraz
Sitting around the table
Sharing tales
Sharing our sorrows and triumphs

We come here by way of Shiraz
Our hearts full of gratitude and love
We can trace these feelings of love
Back to the magical city of Shiraz

Shiraz, the city in the valley
Shiraz, the city of a new dawn
Shiraz, the city of Mona and Roya
Shiraz, we keep you in our hearts

Lida Berghuis
December 30th, 2013

Nostalgia

 

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The scent of saffron and rosewater
Reminds me of my Persian past
The busy streets of the bazaar
The veil-clad ladies
Bargaining for the best price
The tree-lined streets of Shiraz
The entrance gate
Darvazé-Quoran

The garden of our house
Where the weeping willows cried
The large dining room
Where many a guest dined

The American school I went to
Where East met West
And my heart was won

Where the language
And culture of the West
Opened my eyes
To another reality
In a land far off

Where I experienced
The richness of diversity
And a door was opened
That could not be shut

And so it wasthat gradually
There grew a yearning
In my heart
To know those lands
To experience freedom

Freedom from religious prejudice
Freedom of thought
Freedom to express myself
And not be afraid to talk

Many days have passed
Since those days in Iran
I have called many cities home
I have laughed
I have cried

I have experienced the freedom I longed for
But as I think of my sisters and brothers
In Tehran and Shiraz
I hope that they too
Will soon taste
The sweet savor
Of freedom

Lida Berghuis
Sept. 11th, 2003