Issue 20
Summer 2019
Last Will and Testament
Bijan Najdi
Translated by Parisa Saranj
Half the rocks, cliffs and the mountains
with their canyons and cups of milk
I leave to my son. For the other half,
make a donation to a charity
in the name of rain.
The calm blue sea
and a lit lighthouse I leave to my wife.
The dark rough seas at night with worried lighthouse keepers
I leave to my old comrades from my days in the military.
The river which passes under the bridge
is yours, the girl with skin
like crystal bowl.
I hope, all summer long,
you wear the dress made of water.
Give every countryside, every tree, every field and blade of grass
—all of them, in full—to the desert.
To sand grains, sitting
in the sun
Give the sound of my Setar.
I’ve left little pieces of my music
in old rosewater bottles
on the shelf.
Give some to Rumi’s book of poems.
and a few to the reed flute.
To the birds, I leave
all the colors, the tiles and domes of the mosques.
To the cheetahs that ran with me, give the caves
and the icicles of loneliness.
And for all the seasons that will come after me,
I leave the fragrance of the garden.
About the Author
Bijan Najdi (1941-1997) was an Iranian writer and poet most known for his collection of short stories. Growing up in north of Iran alongside the Caspian Sea and Elburz mountains, Najdi’s poetry is a direct response to the green and generous landscape against the struggles of modernity and the aftermath of Iran-Iraq war in the post-revolution Iran.
About the Translator
Parisa Saranj was born in Isfahan, Iran. She holds a BA in journalism from University of Massachusetts Amherst and MFA in Creative Nonfiction Writing from Goucher College. A freelance translator and editor, she is at work on a memoir of growing up in 1990s’ Iran. Her writing and translations have appeared in several online publications, including Aslan Media and LobeLog.com.