The poet Master Mozaffari, with all his bitter words and worries, arrived at the Armanshahr offices at Qaleh Fat’hullah on Monday night, 28th June 2010, with a smile: A man in the fifth decade of his life; 40 years, 30 of which have been in war and all the 40 years in hardship here and there, who should as a rule have salt and pepper hair and a wrinkled face.

Not Master Mozaffari however. He came, greeted everybody and was greeted. Others also arrived one after another. They had gathered from near and afar. One from Germany, the other from the US, some from Herat, one from Baghlan and they were all there at Armanshahr’s offices on that night by sheer coincidence. Master Abutaleb Mozaffari had been lured to his home city for the inauguration of the offices of Dari Dor [Dari Pearl] in Kabul. That was why the beautiful verse from the eternal poet Sa’adi was in the air: Clouds, wind, moon, sun and the Heavens are at work…

The 53rd Goftegou public meeting of Armanshahr began with reciting verses from Master Mozaffari about desperation and confessions of many people in this land of blood, war, and gunpowder; words not spoken by many. There was talk of the year of famine, when clouds, wind, moon, sun and Heavens had joined hands. Clouds rained bullets; wind smelled of blood and gunpowder; moon was not moon anymore, but a heavy fog. Sun scorched everybody.

Moments later, the master was speaking at the podium. He spoke briefly, but he narrated of love poetry and literature and complained of the political climate even prevailing over the lives of some of our poets. Then he recited poems, old and new. Other friends followed and the night was capped with music. Rafi Behrouzian, Homayoon Honar, Massoud Hassanzadeh and Latif Namira played and sang. That wasn’t all. Master Baresh went to the podium and requested Vahid Qassemi to play the guitar and sing and he humbly heeded the call.

An old story goes that a king saw a dervish in rags at the entrance of his palace and ordered his servants to feed him well and give him a comfortable bed for the night. In the morning, he asked the dervish: How was the night? The answer came: It was just a night and it is over. The king was angry and ordered the servants to send him to the dungeons and keep him hungry. In the morning, he asked the same question and the dervish gave the same answer: It was just a night and it is over!

Invitation