Poems
I am Fatemeh Ekhtesari, a poet, author, and human rights activist deeply rooted in Iran’s “Postmodern Ghazal” literary movement. My works delve into the intricate tapestry of sexuality, religion, and gender, with notable pieces like “Feminist discussions before cooking potatoes,” which faced censorship.
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Come back to me! – short story
Fatemeh Ekhtesari Translated by Atefeh Asadi : “I am not saying this is a good thing, but if they imprison you, I can come to visit you at least. But if you leave the country, how can I come to halfway around the world to see you with this sickled foot that I have?” Momma […]
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Jeg Vil Bytte Plass Med En Kvinne
Norwegian English Poeten Fatemeh Ekhtesari flyktet fra Iran etter å ha fått en dom på 11,5 års fengsel og 99 piskeslag. Diktene hennes er en av årsakene til at hun havnet i unåde hos iranske myndigheter. Hun har et stort publikum i hjemlandet og mer enn 120 000 følgere på Instagram. De siste tre årene…
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Persiske Ord Og Norske Toner
TEHERAN– LILLEHAMMER. PERSISKE ORD OG NORSKE TONERNår folkemusikerne Øystein Rudi og Camilla Granlien møter Fatemeh Ekhtesari og Mehdi Mousavi, oppstår fortellinger vi aldri har hørt maken til. Ekhtesari og Mousavi har begge en lang rekke poesiutgivelser bak seg i Iran og er nå fribyforfattere i Lillehammer. Hva skjer når ei norsk fele forsøker å finne tonen…
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Tehran- Norwegian
Teheran er en chadorkledd sur kvinne med forvirrede øyne i basaren med tom sekk, midt i smuget lei av byen og sin egen fortsettelse Teheran er kvinnen ved det gule lyset som aldri vil bli grønt Teheran er kvinnen som stanser et øyeblikk foran bilen før hun passerer Teheran er kvinnen i klasserommet pekestokken er…
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Ah! Fatemeh!
By a silence scream of someone in my dreams,I have been involved with these anxieties for many year.Do not say, want, ask anything of my answers.Do not let them touch my books.They are taking me…Ah! Fatemeh! Who are the shadows walking down the alley?Whose first name are they looking for in the list?Please tell them…
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We are the un-uprising women
We have not asked God anythingbut a ceiling and some good children.We are alive with no mouth, no question,and have not asked voice.Nothing will be changed,we are the un-uprising women There are several yearswe have talked so much to the vagina.There are several years our identityhas been twisted into the skirt.There are several years in…
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I Press My Head Down
I press my head down It’s the result of insomnia oppressing me I press my head to you and to my miserable memoirs The night is pressing me too But I’m so tough Now it’s the sound of your scream coming And there is blood And there is the smell of tear and tear gas…
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Take me my hand
– “take me my hand!”I take it.Was it the very hand? Ok, it does not matter. Again, a woman beaten pours acidon my brain tonight. Everyone is being decomposed,also the memories of touch and hugging. Watching film, hand in hand…someone turns off the light. Then, the scene becomes black.Then, we hear only the woman screaming.…
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Draw out
Draw out from the gearemaciated corpse of your labors.Draw through the laughter,the painting of a bloody mouth.Either erase all the cages,or draw some birds. The factory sulks its engine.All its power is the pressing of turn-off button.It is involved with making nightmare,by sleeping pill and anesthetic liquid.It is morning and the bell ring is at…