MANSOUR NOORBAKHSH, AN EXILE WRITER FROM IRAN INSEARCH OF PEACE



BIODATA OF MANSOUR NOORBAKHSH.

Mansour Noorbakhsh writes poems and stories in both English and Farsi, his first language, and has published books, poems, and articles in both languages. His book length poem: “In Search of Shared Wishes” is published in 2017. He tries to be a voice for freedom, human rights, and environment in his writings. He presents The Contemporary Canadian Poets in a weekly Persian radio program (https://persianradio.net/poets/ or https://t.me/ottawaradio) Mansour’s poems are published in “WordCity Lit. (https://wordcitylit.ca)”, Verse Afire, Parkland Poets, several anthologies, and other places. His poems are translated in Greek, Portuguese, Spanish, Serbian, Macedonian and Chinese, Mansour Noorbakhsh is an Electrical Engineer, and lives with his wife, his daughter and his son in Toronto, Canada.

POEMS BY MANSOUR NOORBAKHSH

NESTING NIGHTINGALES

Your heart never planted
hatred and resentment
To: Ukrainian children after Russian invasion

who ruined your flowers?
that were watered by your hands everyday
in hope of beauty and tranquilly.
why should you harvest ruination now?

War not only leaves dead and wounded bodies
It leaves most mutilated hopes and loves
that will become desperation and hatred soon.

War plants fields of hatred, each clusters seeds of other hatred and violence. War is not sterile
it becomes pregnant of hate
and gives birth to another violence
having fed with the heritage of old wars,
anger, and humiliation.

I will never die while
you continue drawing
the nesting nightingales with your enflamed hope.

I will never die if
you have never let hate replaces.

IN SEARCH OF SHARED WISHES

“dedicated to Child Victims of War,
published by Friesen Press, 2017
Section 5 / Chapter One.”

Was I able to make a new world?
Was I able to refuse it?
You know the answer was “no.”
I decided to say nothing
and go nowhere.
The first thing war steals from everyone
is free will.
I decided ...
But, with the first rays of sunlight—
or a star’s, shining in the night—
the strength of this nonstop challenge
was flowing from my eyes,
into my hands and my heart,
like the bright blue glow of
a far-off star
at the
expanse of the sky.
Let me close my eyes.
Let me come to your dream.
In your dream, the strength is infinite,
and free will is pure.
Beauty is beauty,
and hope is reality.
I must see with my heart.
I need to see with my lips
through your dream,
that hidden fire,
that strength.

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