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Farzaneh
Ghavami
Born in Tehran, Iran in 1968
She began poetry in 1998, when her poets and written texts
were published in some cultural monthly magazines for the
first time, as Kelk, Karnameh...
A number of her poets were nominated for "Karnameh
Prize" in 2000.
2002:
"I Am One of Shahrzads, The Disturbed"
Collection of 30 Poems/Mir Kasra Pub./64 pages/Persian
language/
2002:
"Just A Pattern Remains of Me"
Collection of 31 Poems/Arvij Pub./73 pages/Persian
language/
| A
Critic on Farzaneh's Poets: Manouchehr Atashi |
After reading
Ms Ghavami's poems over and over, I believed that dazzling
her name as the prize winner of "Kar-nameh"
Competition among two hundred poets, not only was not
incidental, but also she was treated unfairly.
I never mean the others incapable though; actually all the process attending 7-9
negotiators with different concepts was managed reasonably and perfect; bearing in mind,
it was a big deal!
Anyway, if some are offended or not pleased with; again it is considered as a result of difficulty of decision among 210 poems.
Farzaneh Ghavami's poems have a mental-emotional and intellectual
structure that means the attentive reader can feel she is really
a cultural-poetical well-backed poet, having her own style.
Her approaching to some aspects of Forough Farrokh-zad's style is well
accepted. Forough's poem is in general considered as a reach
point for mid 1960s poem and modern freestyle writings (especially
for females) definitely are influenced by Forough; but
Ghavami poems have tow more special points; her mental concepts and
emotions represent her soul and continue to a routine mood and alive
visions; also the way she writes not only is along with
Nima and Forough, but also develops to the excited field of
postmodernism; so it is a good picture for the future.
| I
Am One of Shahrzads, The Disturbed |
Dreaming
your tale, all the night, till the day, while awake
I am one of Shahrzads, the disturbed, as I told;
I cannot drop off, till tales are left
the just gathered crickets, dancing by the window
I cannot drop off.
I inquire the butterfly crosses on my notebook
about a sovereign, who nobody
took an auth to let the flowers woe, tattooed on all
butterfly wings.
Tonight, fountains deliver stars
with placenta around the neck of the pool
and the ivy clanged on the wall
and the dance of the crickets unties them.
I still inquire about
the cross-shaped butterflies on the window
I am one of Shahrzads, the disturbed, as I told
all dreams tattooed on my eyes. |
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