Aryaneviss

حالا یک آریانویس پیدا کردم :-)) و میتونم به فارسی بنویسم

Click on the title if you wanna see it. Good Luck.

A nice piece of peom

شاد بودن هنر است
شاد کردن هنری والاتر.
ليک هرگز نپسنديم به خويش،
که چو يک شکلک بی جان، شب و روز ،
بی خبر از همه ، خندان باشيم.
بی غمی عيب بزرگی ست،که دور از ما باد !

A little piece of truth

Last week I was talking about conflicts of war. It is nice to see there are still some people in the world who are not affraid of talking loud. I enjoyed the point of view. Let me know how do you think!

My good memories and the recent bad news

In a very nice neighborhood in Tehran, Shemiran, there is a home in which I have lots of good memories. This home is located in between lots of high-raised buildings that once upon a time were nice gardens as well.
Of the very first thing I remember is when I was about 5-6 years old and my older sister and other kids of family were playing Hide and Seek. It was a very nice night in Tehran. Parents were sitting in the garden and kids were hiding themselves every where, from pool to the dog-house. I was so little, but nevertheless they were nice enough to take me in their play.
Days were gone and my memories continue, we grew up. Most of those kids left the country and grandparents were alone in that big garden. As long as I was in Iran, I tried to be polite enough to go there once in a while and spend time with them. These visits became a routine and I was so honored to spend my time in that garden. The grandfather is a gentleman and is one of those very highly respected individuals I had ever seen. Of my most favorites in Tehran were those Friday afternoons in his rich and old library that I was granted with reading all I wanted. As a result I dedicated my first book that I translated to him.
My last visit was last year, when I went there with my fiancé right before our wedding and we were blessed by their good wishes and a very nice and old necklace (an antique from the Qajar time) as wedding gift. I kept my contacts by calling them frequently as they were my real grandparents. Last Monday when I called them to say Happy Ali-Mola’s day, I was so shocked to hear the lady’s broken voice. I could hardly realize what she was trying to tell me. But news was short and clear. There was no need for long sentences.
One night around 5 weeks ago someone tried to break in through the gentleman’s window. The housekeeper and his young wife saw the thief and started to scream to get help, the thief fired back and killed the wife of the housekeeper who was 5 months pregnant. The couple had a 4 years old daughter.
What can I add? I can’s count the number of people who are affected by this action, I don’t know if they got the murderer, and I don’t know who is going to take care of that little girl as wells as my old fellow, etc...This is not the first case in its kind and surely not the last one. This is just something that I feel so personally.
I truly believe Tehran needs immediate attention. The attention needs to be something, anything rather than the yellow cake.

War

War brings me the memories of losing my classmates in bombardments, losing my father’s friends so-called uncles who were first ranked pilots, somewhere that nobody even knows where their bodies are.
War reminds me of those days of terror and uncertainty.
Children of war are the same. War is the only thing,which does not recognize religion, age, race... It recognizes nothing. War just takes away what you have. What everyone has.
Lebanon is in war. See the video and sign the petition if you like.