Poem By Nassy Fesharaki


Feel awkward when hear:
"Villagers are backward, "
Overwhelmed, I smile.

Think of bees in the hives
Not knowing things at all,
Beyond imposed limits
That they get with degree.

Why not go, take a tour,
And visit some village.

In the heart of mountains
Village of thousand years
Is sort of its own self's.

Look at mills and schools
Public baths and washrooms.

All of them fantastic,
Built for needs, with Technic.

Two stones in each mill,
Round and are full circles.

The top one rotates and
Lower is static.

No gas and no petrol,
No damage by carbon.

A narrow, thin current
Cut from main, parted
Aims to pour in a well
To work, give, energy
And cause the rotating.

Is fed with wheat or corn,
Through a single hole,
In the top, rough stone,
Main plan: "Crush them."

Current is like rat tail
From the farm water,
To head for a deep well,
That is cone but on head.

"Tanooreh, " it is named.

Scientists and experts,
Of Surface, Pressure,
Or P1v1 and P2V2
Erected the system…

I look back at my time
Keep walking tall, proud:
"I was born in village."

In many days and nights
Feel having gone blind,
Do my best, seek for lost.

The "Galeh' of "Loodeh"
To us was "Sharing herd."

A shepherd took it out
And returned in sunset.

Loodeh means "The People"
In the tongue of Russians.

Am looking, do research:
"Was it ours or was theirs?
Which of us had it first? "

And "Vareh" meaning "Hurst"
Was sandbank that they made.

We bartered our milk when
Summer came, it decreased.

Want to leave big city,
Murderer rose to kill
The Nature, history…

Comments about Tanooreh

Nassy, I love reading your poems because they provide an adventure through the mind. Hearing about your experiences is an experience it itself. Thanks for sharing.

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