A firework of gorgeous women from Pantone

Posted on October 5, 2013 by Michele

So I am crazy about my new Pantone app; it helps me find the colors that make me happy like these red/tangerine/persimmons on this sexy koi:

This gorgeous Dior hat is in my favorite color, RED!

And this wine palette has all the colors of your favorite Bordeaux and Bourgogne:

Let’s go to the pinks now with this “femme rose” from 1959:

or this tangerine/ochre skirt that reminds me of Veuve Clicquot, my favorite champagne:

I love the combination of pink and orange like a romantic sunset:

and all shades of soft peach puffs,

and this pretty tan/rose:

with its paler pastel cousin, rose smoke:

But let’s go back to happy cherry blossoms from Christopher Kane,

or these crimson cherry lips from 1950:

or these irreverent Louboutin shoes in pink flambé,

stunning mimosa socks, from Meadham Kirchhoff:

or this ultramarine green and pink combo. (All of these pictures and their sources are on my Pinterest page)

Funny but only after I made this following palette, I came to appreciate the necklace and its moca/turquoise/rose palette:

Now let’s explore the realm of moss/sage in this apparitioin by Elie Saab:

Look at this mint princess here:

The periwinkle fairy:

and the wisteria goddess from Marchesa:

I love the steel blue on her,

A little detour into more serious and warmer colors:

and back again into the flashy seafoams from Blanka Matragi:

and royal blues:

Blue being my other favorite color, I end this post with this quiet blue palette on a rainy afternoon in China photographed by Eric Lafforgue:

“Blue makes no noise.

It is a timid color, without ulterior motives, forewarning or plan; it does not leap out at the eye like yellow or red do, but rather draws it in, taming it little by little, letting it come unhurriedly, so that it sinks in and drowns in it, unaware.”

“Le bleu ne fait pas de bruit.

C’est une couleur timide, sans arrière-pensée, présage, ni projet, qui ne se jette pas brusquement sur le regard comme le jaune ou le rouge, mais qui l’attire à soi, l’apprivoise peu à peu, le laisse venir sans le presser, de sorte qu’en elle il s’enfonce et se noie sans se rendre compte de rien.” Jean Michel Maulpoix

Kashan, a symphony in gold and turquoise

Posted on August 27, 2013 by Michele

Kashan…A jewel of a city in the semi-arid center of Iran. I went back to Iran after 20 years. I visited several historical houses in Kashan and enjoyed my first visit to this region. This is one of them, built around 1880 with exquisite mirror and stained-glass work:

A much smaller example is the hotel we stayed in; this amazing boutique hotel (below), the “Manouchehri House“, revived from its ruin by the good taste of its owner, Saba Manouchehri, her super talented designer, Shanhnaz Nader Esphanahi, and Akbar Helli the traditional architect and master repairer of historic houses. Going from this (picture not mine):

to this:

and this:

This is the view from my room:

A first floor room with three beds for my parents and myself. Even the bed covers (designed by Shahnaz Nader Esfahani) are custom made for the hotel and purely Iranian:

Still jet-lagged, I could’t sleep well the first night and I saw the sun rise after having stared in delight for a couple of hours at the moonlit garden:

We had to take advantage of our short trip and a knowledgeable guide so we hurried to the breakfast area,

and tried to remember to take a look at these cute garden sculptures upon our return to the hotel!

We had our Persian tea and out the door:

Our first stop was at the Tabatabaei House. This splendid house was built in the 1840s for the affluent Tabatabaei family. It was designed by Master Ali Maryam. It has 40 rooms and more than 200 doors:

It is the same house that you see at the beginning of the blog post. I was amazed at this majestic balcony and its ceiling that looks like a traditional Persian rug (below).

Kashan is world famous for its beautiful rug weaving tradition,

and I can very well imagine Mr. Tabatabaei asking his architect to create a rug on his ceiling like the rug he must have had at his feet:

It doesn’t happen often for me to be overwhelmed by what I see and hesitate about what to shoot but I was taking pictures left and right and no time to take notes… 😉

But I remembered to take a picture of myself!

The colors on these pictures have not been processed — the golden glow that you see everywhere is real:

The intricate stucco work on the walls is even more beautiful in the midday golden light:

The persians are historically known in the art of plastering:

The stained glass is omnipresent in all of these old houses,

Some are exquisite!

We decided to go to the bazaar for lunch. Iran, the pistachio capital of the world is a heaven for nut lovers:

I found this guy’s expression in front of the sheep’s heads hilarious! The local Chelo-Kabab, the only thing that Shahs and Mullahs equally love and agree upon, didn’t disappoint us. Chelo-Kabab is the national dish of Iran consisting of steamed basmati rice and lamb kabab.

After lunch we headed to the Fin Garden. A Unesco world heritage site, it is a historical Persian Garden that symbolizes the earthly paradise. Designed for Shah Abbas I and completed in 1590, it is the oldest garden in Iran still in existence.

Water runs through it (it houses Kashan’s Fin Bath) and beautiful trees and flowers and water sources everywhere have a heavenly effect on people.

Flowers are everywhere on the ceilings and walls (above) and outside like the omnipresent pomegranate and roses:

Kashan is like Grasse in France, the capital of rose essence, Gol-Aab:

and some more ceilings:

and more gorgeous frescos:

I loved this image of this tired chador clad lady:

The next day took us to a famous bath or hammam: Sultan Amir Ahmad Bathhouse. I want to take you first to the roof—very typical of the ones in this region, it lets the sunlight in. You will see these roof domes again from inside.

Thes multiple domes contain convex glasses to provide sufficient lighting to the bathhouse while concealing it from the outside:

The bathhouse is a traditional Iranian bathhouse from the 16th century. It has two main parts: Sarbineh (the dressing hall) and Garmkhaneh (the hot bathing hall). The following image is of Sarbineh with its octagonal pool and its 8 columns.

The interior of the bathhouse is decorated with turquoise and gold tile work, brickwork and amazing plasterwork:

A symphony in gold and turquoise…

Me being a Roohani (religious in Persian and a common last name like Smith) and the new president being a Roohani, you would think this dude could be my dad or an uncle:

My dad—Morteza Rouhani— a retired pediatrician and not a mollah (here with our kind guide, Abbas Ghamkhar), was tired of following my mother and me around . Everybody asks me but my father has no connection to the Iranian President!

Another great tea (I call it paradise in a glass) and we were ready to head to another historical house.

The same person who built the Tabatabaei’s House later built this one, the Boroujerdis House for Mr. Tabatabaei’s newly married daughter. It is considered a true masterpiece of Persian traditional residential architecture. It has a funny story:

The groom not being from Kashan, was not accepted first as a good suitor (he was in the tea making business) and to show his wealth in spite of not being one of the Kashan nobility, he asks the same architect to build his home with samovars and teapots in the exterior wall carvings! I was laughing taking these pictures:

There are great plaster and stucco works of fruits and flowers and wall paintings by the royal painter Kamal-ol-molk, and three 40 meter tall windcatchers which help cool the house to unusually cool temperatures.

A windcatcher (below) is a traditional Persian architectural element to create natural ventilation in buildings:

and this is what’s happening inside the dome, magnificent ceiling,

after magnificent ceiling…

I wished I could have made a better travel log about this mystical place:

One last image from the other side of Tabatabaei House—after all we started the blog with it:

Ok one more:

We went back to Tehran, tired but happy. Guess what we drank the minute we got home?

I will keep a great memory of this beautiful city—home to my favorite poet, Sohrab Sepehri. This swallow kept us company at our hotel, the Manouchehri House:

A poem of Sepehri in English:

“I am a native of Kashan
Time is not so bad to me
I own a loaf of bread, a bit of intelligence, a tiny amount of taste!
I possess a mother better than the leaf
Friends, better than the running brook

I am a Muslim
The rose is my Mecca
The spring my prayer-carpet
The light, my prayer stone
The field my prostrate place
I take ablution with the heartbeat of windows…”

in French:

“Je viens de la contrée de Kashan.
Ma vie somme toute n’est pas trop difficile.
J’ai de quoi vivre, un brin d’intelligence, un minuscule talent.
J’ai une mère plus douce que les feuilles de l’arbre.
Des amis plus limpides que l’eau courante.

Et un Dieu présent quelque part, tout proche:
Parmi les feuilles de giroflées,
Au pied de ce pin élevé,
Sur la face consciente des eaux,
Dans les lois du monde végétal.
Je suis musulman.
J’ai comme direction de la Mecque une rose.
Comme napperon de prière une source.
Comme sceau de prière la lumière.
La plaine est le tapis de ma prière.
Je fais mes ablutions aux vibrantes fenêtres de la lumière.”

and in Persian:

اهل كاشانم
روزگارم بد نيست.
تكه ناني دارم ، خرده هوشي، سر سوزن ذوقي.
مادري دارم ، بهتر از برگ درخت.
دوستاني ، بهتر از آب روان.

من مسلمانم.
قبله ام يك گل سرخ.
جانمازم چشمه، مهرم نور.
دشت سجاده من.
من وضو با تپش پنجره ها مي گيرم.

Afjei, a master Persian Calligrapher

Posted on December 5, 2011 by Michele

This is one of the most beautiful renditions of my Persian name, Dordaneh (a unique pearl—dor: pearl, daneh: one, unique):

It was created for me some years ago by Nasrollah Afjei, the Iranian master painter calligrapher. I visited his most recent works at the Gallerie Nicolas Flamel in Paris some time ago; I felt a great sense of admiration and satisfaction in front of his beautiful canvases like this one:

The following is one of his more recent ones from the “Siah Mashgh” series; as young students in Iran, we all had to practice our calligraphy with special pens and the exercises were called Siah Mashgh or the black homework because of the extra black ink!

Even though Persian and Arabic use the same alphabet (Persian has 4 more letters than Arabic which has 28), the writing is way more beautiful and lends itself better to calligraphy. “Nas’taliq” is the most popular contemporary Persian calligraphy style.

The Persian script is exclusively written cursively: the majority of letters in a word connect to each other. A characteristic feature of this script, possibly tracing back to Ancient Egyptian hieroglyphs, is that much to the chagrin of foreigners vowels are underrepresented! It’s a bit like shorthand with consonants but mostly omitted vowels.

“In comparison to Europe and North America calligraphy is a far more popular and practiced form of art in Iran and in most other countries around this area. You can spot at least one piece of calligraphy hung on the walls of most Iranian households.”

Since the script is cursive, the appearance of a letter changes depending on its position: isolated, beginning (joined on the left), middle (joined on both sides), and end (joined on the right) of a word.

Afjei is a genius in morphing them into a beautiful image that is part painting and part calligraphy…

I am wondering how Mister Afjei would create his masterpieces had he to work with the old Persian Cuneiform!

For those of you who can still read Persian, here is the poem that Nasrollah Afjei painted/calligraphed for me from the 14th century Persian poet, Shah Nematollah Vali. The main verse where you find my name roughly means “each one of us has a beautiful unique pearl”:

و لیکن هر یکی‌ از ما نکو دردانه ای‌ داریم

اگر رندی و می نوشی بیا میخانه ای داریم

و گر تو عشق می بازی نکو جانانه ای داریم

اگر از عقل می پرسی ندارد نزد ما قدری

وگر مجنون همی جوئی دل دیوانه ای داریم

درین خلوتسرای دل نشسته دلبری با ما

هزاران جان فدای او که خوش میخانه ای داریم

تو گر گنجی همی جوئی در آ در کنج دل با ما

که گنج ما بود معمور و در ویرانه ای داریم

همه غرقیم و سرگردان درین دریای بی پایان

ولیکن هر یکی از ما نکو دُردانه ای داریم

چنین جائی که ما داریم به نزد او چه خواهد بود

برای شمع عشق او عجب پروانه ای داریم

خراباتست و ما سرمست و سید جام می بر دست

درین میخانهٔ باقی ، می مستانه ای داریم

Visit this great site for some amazing calligraphy here.

Nicolas Bouvier, the Master Traveler

Posted on June 3, 2011 by Michele

This is my blog’s fourth Anniversary issue and what better subject than the amazing Nicolas Bouvier! He traveled from Geneva to the Khyber Pass in Afghanistan in 1953-1954 with his painter friend, Thierry Vernet.

I read his great book, The way of the world, last year; it started a bit slow but once that he got to Iran, I was hooked. This map traces their journey from Europe to Asia where Bouvier starts in Geneva and ends in Afghanistan:

His friend, Vernet, has kept a visual jounal by drawing what they see together and what Bouvier writes:

These images are my interpretation of their work and an homage to this delightful journal. “Ten years in the writing, The Way of the World is a masterpiece which elevates the mundane to the memorable and captures the thrill of two passionate and curious young men discovering both the world and themselves.”

They traveled with a small Fiat Topolino (above and below) that took them through hell and paradise!

What was striking about this little book was the fact that I didn’t have to lower my expectation of excellence: Bouvier writes with the ease of the poet that he is and the attention of an enthusiastic humanist…

He talks about “women buried in their floret tchador”: femmes ensevelies dans leur tchador à fleurettes.

He talks about how “Iran, the old aristocrat, who has experienced everything in life … and forgotten a lot, is allergic to ordinary remedies and needs special treatment. The gifts are not always easy to give when children are five thousand years older than Santa Claus.”

After finishing the book, I got curious about the writer and started the “research”! I compiled many images about this master Iconographer, I watched many of his interviews—from his youth until the last years of his life— and he sounds as fresh at the end as he did in the beginning.

The Swiss television has a great archive on the subject.

I have to admit that the year they spent in Iran was the most interesting to me— even though Serbia, Turkey, Pakistan and Afghanistan had their own exhilarating charm. He even talks about my old school, Jeanne D’Arc of Tehran, in the years before my birth. The next couple of pictures of Bouvier are from their time in Tehran; this one from a modest hotel’s balcony:

He’s typing in the nude in the heat of the Iranian summer:

Most of all I loved the winter they spend in North west of Iran, in Tabriz:

The way he describes the long quiet winter in that city transports the reader to the depth of our common humanity; I laughed when he talks about the smell of hot Persian breads, Sangak and Lavaash in the snow or when he describes the frozen mustaches and beards of men in the freezing cold, the boiling water of samovars and the fact that everybody thinks only about three words: tea, coal and vodka!

Speaking of Persian breads, Bouvier suggests that only a very old country can make luxuries out of most banal routines; this bread has been thirty generations and a few dynasties in the making…

I was overwhelmed with nostalgia reading his beautiful poem about the onset of winter (Zemestan in Persian) in Tabriz:

I couldn’t find it in English so I translated it myself; first the original in French:

Novembre
Les grenades ouvertes qui saignent
sous une mince et pure couche de neige
le bleu des mosquées sous la neige
les camions rouillés sous la neige
les pintades blanches plus blanches encore
les longs murs roux les voix perdues
qui cheminent sous la neige
et toute la ville jusqu’à l’énorme citadelle
s’envole dans le ciel moucheté
C’est Zemestan, l’hiver
Tabriz, 1953

November
Bleeding open pomegranates
under a thin layer of pure snow
the blue of the mosques in the snow
rusty trucks in the snow
white guinea fowl whiter still
long red walls lost voices
who walk in the snow
and the whole town to the huge citadel
flies in the mottled sky
It’s Zemestan, winter
Tabriz, 1953

These images are based on the following books:

Bleu Immortel and The way of the world.

I read the “The way of the world” in french (L’Usage du Monde) but it has been lovingly translated by Robyn Marsack; I recommend it to all of you.

Que votre ombre grandisse or May your shadow grow!

Another Spring, Another Nowruz, Nature can be kind…

Posted on March 15, 2011 by Michele

Nature can be kind even though it has not been so in the last few days in Japan…I went out to park Montsouris, close to my apartment in Paris to take some pictures from the gentler side of Nature.

Everything was so beautiful I almost forgot the Japanese meltdown (nuclear and else…) for a few minutes; the purple crocus made me nostalgic:

I was born in Khorasan, the world’s most important saffron producing region, and the yellow pistils of this modest bulb flower is what becomes the most expensive spice in the world: zaferan or saffron.

Now back to the park where the most flamboyant were the primaveras (primulas):

I ask the eternal question: is anything more effortlessly beautiful than a flower?

I have to wait for the tulips to come out one of these days:

nature weaves beautiful rugs:

The pink blossoms over a stream were so pretty:

This one was earlier today at Saint Germain:

but right outside my place, the pansies were going crazy:

I took the picture with a big smile on my face—I love pansies—and later today I made this dress out of these gorgeous flowers:

To see my previous posts about the persian New Year and to see some beautiful poetry:

Last year’s Green Nowruz go here

Nowruz 1388 go here

Haft seen, haft sheen and everything in between go here

“Pourquoi les hommes ne savent-ils pas
Que la capucine n’est pas un hasard…” Sepehri

HAPPY NEW YEAR, NOWRUZ PIROUZ!

The International Woman’s Day is March 8th

Posted on March 8, 2011 by Michele

On the eve of he international women’s day, I would like to go back to the superb Parvin Etessami’s poem about the Persian women ‘s emancipation from Hejab in 1936. She died 70 years ago at the age of 34.

زن در ایران، پیش از این گویی که ایرانی نبود
پیشه‌اش، جز تیره‌روزی و پریشانی نبود
زندگی و مرگش اندر کنج عزلت می‌گذشت
زن چه بود آن روزها، گر زآن که زندانی نبود
کس چو زن اندر سیاهی قرنها منزل نکرد
کس چو زن در معبد سالوس، قربانی نبود
در عدالتخانه انصاف زن شاهد نداشت
در دبستان فضیلت زن دبستانی نبود
دادخواهیهای زن می‌ماند عمری بی‌جواب
آشکارا بود این بیداد؛ پنهانی نبود
بس کسان را جامه و چوب شبانی بود، لیک
در نهاد جمله گرگی بود؛ چوپانی نبود
از برای زن به میدان فراخ زندگی
سرنوشت و قسمتی جز تنگ‌میدانی نبود
نور دانش را ز چشم زن نهان می‌داشتند
این ندانستن، ز پستی و گرانجانی نبود
زن کجا بافنده میشد، بی نخ و دوک هنر
خرمن و حاصل نبود، آنجا که دهقانی نبود
میوه‌های دکهٔ دانش فراوان بود، لیک
بهر زن هرگز نصیبی زین فراوانی نبود
در قفس می‌آرمید و در قفس می‌داد جان
در گلستان نام ازین مرغ گلستانی نبود
بهر زن تقلید تیه فتنه و چاه بلاست
زیرک آن زن، کو رهش این راه ظلمانی نبود
آب و رنگ از علم می‌بایست، شرط برتری
با زمرد یاره و لعل بدخشانی نبود
جلوهٔ صد پرنیان، چون یک قبای ساده نیست
عزت از شایستگی بود از هوسرانی نبود
ارزش پوشانده کفش و جامه را ارزنده کرد
قدر و پستی، با گرانی و به ارزانی نبود
سادگی و پاکی و پرهیز یک یک گوهرند
گوهر تابنده تنها گوهر کانی نبود
از زر و زیور چه سود آنجا که نادان است زن
زیور و زر، پرده‌پوش عیب نادانی نبود
عیبها را جامهٔ پرهیز پوشانده‌ست و بس
جامهٔ عجب و هوی بهتر ز عریانی نبود
زن، سبکساری نبیند تا گرانسنگ است و بس
پاک را آسیبی از آلوده دامانی نبود
زن چون گنجور است و عفت گنج و حرص و آز دزد
وای اگر آگه ز آیین نگهبانی نبود
اهرمن بر سفرهٔ تقوی نمیشد میهمان
زآن که می‌دانست کآنجا جای مهمانی نبود
پا به راه راست باید داشت، کاندر راه کج
توشه‌ای و رهنوردی، جز پشیمانی نبود
چشم و دل را پرده میبایست اما از عفاف
چادر پوسیده، بنیاد مسلمانی نبود

It is hard for me to translate this beautiful poem to you but I read it with deep respect for this great poet who died so young. The image is the Persian woman’s face shaped like the map of Iran and in a chador…

To see the most beautiful Persian women go here.

HAPPY NEW YEAR 2011

Posted on December 30, 2010 by Michele

I started 2010 in Los Angeles, spent it in Switzerland and I am finishing it in Paris where I moved to since yesterday. I wish everybody a great new year!

“A new year is beginning to peak through
softly beautiful and different like new falling snow,
each day unique and shaped just for you.
Your life adding something as each day does grow.
My wish for your new year is beauty
and softness with surprises thrown in for delight.
Love for each day bringing happiness to you,
making your life a scene of sparkle and shining sunlight.”

Marbella, the beautiful woman by the sea

Posted on July 21, 2010 by Michele

I just got back from Marbella, Spain, where the weather is hot, the sun’s always shining and the colors are intense (at least in July).

For me, the South of Spain—Andalusia—conjures up my beloved Velasquez, García Lorca and of course the native son of Malaga, Picasso. It was my first time in this part of the country so I did the usual tourist things. The great hotels of Marbella looked empty under the sizzling sun; I loved all the local decors like Plaza Romano in Hotel Puente Romao:

Andalusia is the land of Flamenco (not to be confused with the pink bird flamingo) and these paintings by Fabian Perez, translate the passion of this dance into beautiful images:

But the real ladies of Spain were painted by my beloved Velasquez: the Infantas (daughters of a king of Spain, in this case Philip IV)— infanta Margarita who stared at me for years from a poster in my kitchen and infanta Maria Theresa who became the wife of Louis XIV and lived way longer than her poor sister, Margarita.

I will make a post about Velasquez and one about Goya, once I visit the Prado in Madrid, but for now this post should do. These ladies with these extremely wide panniers inspired me to do a little Velasquez of my own:

I even drew one on the walls of the majestic Villa Padierna…

Las Meninas are everywhere in Spain even on a couple of Spanish fans I bought!

I wrote this post listening for the nth time to the superb Miles Davies’ Sketches of Spain, one of his best works.

Now let me take you to old town Marbella. It is a maze of narrow streets with white houses, restaurants and Bougainvillea galore! For good food check out Da Bruno.

Lots of small shops offering completely unnecessary but fun stuff:

The blue hour (the sun sets at 10 pm in summer) is accompanied by a dizzying fragrance of flowers.

I especially liked the 300-year-old statue of the Virgin—Virgen de los dolores— surrounded by dazzling plants:

A fun thing to do was to go to the open air market, bustling with life and colors; my mother (below in the middle) and my cousins were busy making good deals:

Southern Spain is a polka dotted country and they start dancing flamenco early:

Seeing all the beautiful vegetables, the Southern Californian (read Mexican) in me couldn’t resist treating everybody to a homemade quesadilla:

I went south of the border in every detail even the beer:

The trick is lots of green onions!

A good meal with family and friends is one of the blessings we usually take for granted.

Now back in Spain again, I shouldn’t be impressed with flowers but these hibiscuses were a red that only Goya would have understood…

The Villa had a swimming pool, a shallow spanish tile pool, a lion head fountain and Sepideh, my cousin, did her best to model for me by all three!

She looks so authentically Spanish that she’s had gotten into fights with some people in Malaga who accused her of lying when she claims to be Persian; the fact that she speaks Spanish well has not helped!

Can’t resist a poem of Garcia Lorca (english first and then spanish):

Green, how I want you green.
Green wind. Green branches.
The ship out on the sea
and the horse on the mountain.
With the shade around her waist
she dreams on her balcony,
green flesh, her hair green,
with eyes of cold silver.
Green, how I want you green.
Under the gypsy moon,
all things are watching her
and she cannot see them.

Verde que te quiero verde.
Verde viento. Verdes ramas.
El barco sobre la mar
y el caballo en la montaña.
Con la sombra en la cintura
ella sueña en su baranda,
verde carne, pelo verde,
con ojos de fría plata.
Verde que te quiero verde.
Bajo la luna gitana,
las cosas la están mirando
y ella no puede mirarlas.

Spain is a beautiful woman…

Check out this clip for a passionate and seductive flamenco dance by Belen Maya and its vocal version, Cante Jondo or deep song.

Watch the legendary Antonio Gades dancing it to perfection here.

Listen to Miles’ Sketches of Spain here.

Watch Carlos Saura’s Iberia trailer here.

For the beautiful poem (in Spanish and English) I used in my infanta image, read Dave Bonta’s post here.

Nowruz 1389: It’s a Green Green world

Posted on March 18, 2010 by Michele

First day of Spring 2010 is the beginning of the Persian New Year of 1389—Happy Nowruz everybody!

In previous years, I have talked a lot about Haft Seen (seven S’s on the new year’s spread) and the calendar; for this year, I decided to tell you which of the seven really symbolize Nowruz for me. One is Sabzeh or wheat sprouts (above) and the other is Sonbol, the hyacinth (below):

I am still in Los Angeles and the Wilshire Corridor is awash in Nowruz banners like this one:

My little sabzeh looks lonely among downtown high-rises:

Being close to the L.A.’s flower market, I left to take pictures early morning and I wasn’t disappointed. I loved the fragrance of these gorgeous stocks,

and the beautiful tulips that scream “spring is here” in so many colors:

I bought as much as I could carry and rushed home to take pictures.

As a child, I remember listening to the Iranian singer, Pouran Shapouri, sing Eyd oumad bahaar oumad…

in our new Eyd dresses (new year’s dress) that my mom had made for my sister and I.

Vigen’s song, Shokoufeh (blossom), was another of my favorites as the harbinger of Nowruz.

يكي دو روز ديگر از پگاه
چو چشم باز مي‌كني
زمانه زير و رو
زمينه پرنگار مي شود

زمين شكاف مي‌خورد
به دشت سبزه مي‌زند
هر آن چه مانده بود زير خاك
هر آنچه خفته بود زير برف

جوان و شسته رفته آشكار مي‌شود

نگار من
اميد نوبهار من
لبي به خنده باز كن
ببين چگونه از گلي
خزان باغ ما بهار مي‌شود

سیاوش کسرایی

Sabzeh shows up in the new year celebrations in many countries:

Let’s not forget my favorite, the goldfish:

Goldfish in a bowl represents life and the end of the month of Esfand (pisces).

for more on the traditions of Nowrouz: NoRuz, Norouz, haft-seen, haft-sheen, etc…

Norouz 1388, the blooming of a new year
Pouran singing about Eyd

a great slide show of Nowruz gold fish farms

Love is in the (freezing )air…

Posted on February 14, 2010 by Michele

Another Valentine’s Day and another excuse to say I love you to people who matter—in the universal language of poetry and roses…

I am in love,

with Italo Calvino but he doesn’t care much about me…I have to dedicate a post to him!

“Mon bel amour mon cher amour ma déchirure
Je te porte dans moi comme un oiseau blessé
Et ceux-là sans savoir nous regardent passer
Répétant après moi les mots que j’ai tressés
Et qui pour tes grands yeux tout aussitôt moururent” Aragon

Let’s stay in Europe with an Irish poet:

“Her scarf a la Bardot,
In suede flats for the walk,
She came with me one evening
For air and friendly talk.
We crossed the quiet river,
Took the embankment walk.” Seamus Heaney

Some sexy poetry from the good old English poet:

“The things about you I appreciate
May seem indelicate:
I’d like to find you in the shower
And chase the soap for half an hour.
I’d like to have you in my power
And see your eyes dilate.” John Fuller

I wish all of my friends a very sweet Valentine:

One last poem from Fereydoon Moshiri:

بگذار که بر شاخه این صبح دلاویز
بنشینم و از عشق سرودی بسرایم
آنگاه به صد شوق چو مرغان سبکبال
پر گیرم ازین بام و به سوی تو بیایم
خورشید از آن دور از آن قله پر برف
آغوش کند باز همه مهر همه ناز
سیمرغ طلایی پر و بالی است که چون من
از لانه برون آمده دارد سر پرواز
پرواز به آنجا که نشاط است و امیدست
پرواز به آنجا که سرود است و سرور است
آنجا که سراپای تو در روشنی صبح
رویای شرابی است که در جام بلور است

“I’d like to be your only audience,

The final name in your appointment book,

Your future tense.”

If this wasn’t enough to satisfy your Valentine’s cravings you can see more of Valentine 2009 here and Valentine 2008 here.

To hear all the above poetry read by a great voice go here.

all the flowers in this post are from Marsano in Zurich http://www.marsano.ch

Michele Roohani

“Life is short, art is long, opportunity fleeting, experiment treacherous, judgment difficult.”

Category Archives: poetry