Mahnaz Badihian Oba

‘Anthology of Protest Poetry “(Summer 2009 Iran) which will be available in Farsi soon, with English/Italian/Spanish translations shortly. This Project is a joint effort between Dr. Mahnaz Badihian (poet, educator and activist) and Azadeh Davachi (poet and translator).
Below is a poem from that Anthology titled ‘Tango in Evin’ by Azadeh Davachi.

Guantanamo or Evin
They are only words
That pass through the
Incomplete understanding of geraniums
……

Tango in Evin*

By Azadeh Davachi
Translated from Farsi by Mahnaz Badihian

This music has a good beginning,
Bach’s symphony or Beethoven,
Tango or Salsa
It doesn’t matter
What matters are minutes without oscillation
Which pass through music
In voiceless cells, you must
Start with unpleasant moves
Even if you are unicellular, without a head
Who is weary of lengthy days
Or a brain with no warden
That smells like slogans
It is a good beginning
If your mouth didn’t have a roof
And your jaw
Doesn’t tire from movement with music

Guantanamo or Evin
They are only words
That pass through the
Incomplete understanding of geraniums
You must dance
Until the final act
When someone says ‘Cut’
But you will not finish
With the last symphony
With pale bricks
You will dance the tango

* Evin is a notorious political prison in Tehran

Instead of denying our rights, we need to spend energy to perfect our rights
I can share my love
With wind
With roses
With thorns 
With whoever makes me
Feel in love
I ask the wind, “will you blow my kisses
To the other side of the river
To the one not given the chance
To pass the water”
To the only one my eyes can see
Through the forbidden cup of wine
……..
Prop 8 as a denominator of human rights 
By: Mahnaz Badihian
I moved from Iowa 5 years ago to come and live in this beautiful land of northern CA. I picked the SF area for its beauty, for its open-minded artists and art loving population, for the fact that gay and lesbians can live free from fear of rejection. To me rejection of this kind was even unfair for late 1800s when the higher court in England decided to commit one of the geniuses of human history, Oscar Wilde to a harsh jail sentence of 2 years. He was a man who was in love with another young man named “Bosie. This was a genuine and real love, which was made obvious by Oscar Wilde’s moving letters to Bosie while he was in jail. 
Although I am not lesbian, I am still an advocate of human rights, especially women’s rights in society. And if you believe in both of these then you should respect anyone’s right to marry and spend their life with whomever they choose to. To me, the lesbian phenomena liberated women greatly and I love the scene of companionship, especially two older lesbians that feel comfortable with each other in that regard. Those women will have difficulty finding true love among men, especially in this American culture where people must be young, wealthy, and beautiful to have a better chance at any level.
I was so proud that Iowa, with the ones everyone called farmers, accepted gay marriage in April. On the other hand I was very disappointed with California, which is known to be so Holly woody and modern.
We need to rethink and overcome this primitive stage of human thinking so we can reach to the Eden of human life and have time to share our love and passion with whomever we choose, as long as we are not harming others. Although it is obvious that with the advent of massive communication we live in an era where we cannot hide big issues under ashes, sooner or later, even in the most conservative states, gay marriage will be legal. People who are against it are just like a drowning person who is trying hard to stay alive! 
Let us not forget that human rights do not belong to any particular group and that is why I feel prop 8 is everyone’s issue. Instead of denying our rights, we need to spend energy to perfect our rights.

I can share my love
With wind
With roses
With thorns 
With whoever makes me
Feel in love
I ask the wind, “will you blow my kisses
To the other side of the river
To the one not given the chance
To pass the water”
To the only one my eyes can see
Through the forbidden cup of wine

Mahnaz Badihian is a poet and writer who lives in Marin county CA. She is the editor in chief of MahMag.org.

Unexpectedly, sun is rising on your shoulders 
As you come from a long road of battle 
Mahnaz Badihian (Oba)
——-
Unexpectedly, sun is rising on your shoulders 
As you come from a long road of battle
While the blood is flowing from our ears
With the bad news penetrating day by day in our soul
While sorrow caves in on our lips and our chest 

Remember we were lost in the darkness of history
While trying to find our way at the “railroad” 
Ending in exile

Remember together we read 
“The Jungle” and “The Color Purple” 

We ran on the seaside to counsel the dead birds
To vitalize our dreams by the hope in your eyes
We knew we can bring the sun close to our doorstep
And count the stars that look at us unexpectedly

When the day breaks we will go to the railroad
To free those slaves that worked hard for our silk dress 
And skipped towards freedom to greet you
But the truth is that the sun is rising unexpectedly
On your shoulder and the little dormant plants have started
Climbing everywhere towards the sun on your shoulder

SF/1/20/2009

Victoriously we decided to win 
When we trashed all the paradox and
Looked at the brightness around us
Where we can test freedom and love
—–
Marin Poetry Center contributors to the latest anthology will be reading from their works.
Contributors include:
Mahnaz Badihian, Ellen Bass, Karen Benke, Claire Blotter……..

Mafia of Love
by; Mahnaz badihian

When I wake up
Sleeplessness grabs me
And my presence in its early rhythm
Is a thousand years old

When the Sun shines, my stretched legs
Pass through the universe
And the border of tomorrow
With the glowing anklet of human kisses 

I feel my simple crowded brain 
Is at ease enough to ignore
All the old beliefs that hindered
Human happiness

And cell phones with repeated SMS
Have a line that connect us to the world
Close enough to laugh at a lost planet

My dear, it is an excuse when you say 
You are a simple cave man
Living in far off lands 
While your Ears, your brain
Your wisdom is connected
To neighborhoods of the Whitehouse
To the streets of Florence
And it’s Mafia of love

Victoriously we decided to win 
When we trashed all the paradox and
Looked at the brightness around us
Where we can test freedom and love
With the messages of SMS
in the little rooms of internet

————-
Tue Sep 30 7 pm: Featured Poets from Marin Poetry Anthology 2008
Marin Poetry Center contributors to the latest anthology will be reading from their works.
Contributors include:
Mahnaz Badihian, Ellen Bass, Karen Benke, Claire Blotter, Barbara Swift Brauer, Brian R. Buckley, Yvonne Cannon, R.J. Carroll, Thomas Centolella, Claudia Chapline, Charselle, Morley Clark, Susan Cohen, Bill Eichhhorn, Donna L. Emerson, Ella Eytan, Laurel Feigenbaum, CB Follett, Rebecca Foust, Ann Garrett, Jennifer Gennari, Terry Hamilton-Poore, Jennifer E. Hewitt, Martin Hickel, Cary James, Heidi Joseph, Helen Kerner, Oskar Klausenstock, M.D., S. E. La Moure, Priscilla ·`Lee, Robin Lee, Joyce Livingston, Cesar Love, Diana A. Lyster, Lily Iona MacKenzie, Roy Mash, Ethel Mays, Mark Meierding, Charlotte Melleno, Adam David Miller, Donna J. Mussato, Gloria North, Steve Olian, David O’Neal, Kate Peper, Terry Phelan, Daniel Polikoff, Connie Post, Yvonne Postelle, Angelika Quirk, Alan Ruskin, Kay Ryan, Bruce Sams, Sandy Scull, Prartho Sereno, Cathryn Shea, Carol Sheldon, Anne Bacon Soulé, Pru Starr, Doreen Stock, Mary Kay Sweeney, Phyllis M. Teplitz, Susan Terris, Sara Tolchin, Malcolm Vickar, Julia Vose, Jeanne Wagner, Sim Warkov, Thomas Watson, Jocelyn Werner, Judith Horowitz Yamamoto, Joseph Zaccardi. 
—
Reading is in Marin cultural center in San Rafael

Dedicated to Iranian-American poet Mahnaz Badihian

Say, how many wings of a dove
Has been broken in this voice?

And how many nights and exiles have trickled on it drop by drop?
That even the smoke of the burnt nests never let my heart alone.

Say, which lovebird, again,
Face to face with its own grave
In line with the mourners,
Has stood to see itself off
That the geometry of death still
Has a strange shape.

Say, which thunder drowns 
The bass and treble of this tone
That even the seabirds 
Around the tides
Never stop crying?
“I am alone Nosrat, alone”
With the nostalgic scent of the purple flowers
Which beg me for you.”
The voice comes from the other side of the line
With few words dispatching on the roof of this house
The gloomiest clouds in the world

So that the poor poet 
Shall be the soloist of the heaviest weep which by now
Has been bucketing over solitudes roof.
Parmida!
I write with my eyes
The melody of this lamentation
So that the shoulders of all the lovers remain drenched
That your solitude and my tears
Become soaked epigraphs
Which shoulder to shoulder go round and round in the Bazaar.
Maybe in an ally a school opens
In which “love” emerges
And the scent of Leyli’s hair and the practice of Majnunn*
Is nothing but an old school . 

Parmida!
Tonight, but not tomorrow
When the resurrection’s morning conveys me
I wish to die beside your solitude
In the nostalgic bed of those purple flowers. 
…..
*Leyli and Majnunn are the literary equivalent of Romeo and Juliet of Iranian literature. 
……
Translated from Farsi by: Maboobeh Zaydi
Edited by:
Mahvand Sadeghi