The Clock Cell, a journal of poetry

26/09/2023

Author, Poet, Translator, Scholar

03/09/2023

https://youtu.be/eClPdZgyIAM?si=u-ureX-mxjnzLUOE

01/09/2023

An updated link to download SELECTED POEMS OF Rosa Jamali

https://www.poemhunter.com/rosa-jamali/ebooks/?ebook=0&filename=rosa-jamali-2023-46.pdf

31/08/2023

28/08/2023

27/08/2023

“The Body in Pain and Pleasure: The Phenomenology of Embodiment in Rosa Jamali’s Poetry.” Journal of Middle East Women’s Studies (Duke University Press). Expected publication 2024 (forthcoming).

Thinking about a future in theatre? Join UVic Theatre for a virtual info session: Sat Jan 15, 2022 on Zoom. Talk to… https://t.co/JLj8JasK7x

22/08/2023

Rosa Jamali’s seminal work; MAKING COFFEE TO RUN A CRIME STORY is a re-reading of male-dominated classic love-hate poems, presented in a polyphonic dramatics...

21/08/2023

https://www.scribd.com/document/662753813/Making-Coffee-to-Run-a-Crime-Story-Rosa-Jamali?fbclid=IwAR1C6IOGz-z6RLdPBBDkCmGk5GUEdVSvEyG8bUimiIgT4QIP67TAzYS3C5I

19/08/2023

مقدمه‌ی مترجم پژوهش و ترجمه از رُزا جمالی معرفیِ رُزا جمالی (در صورتِ نقل‌قول نام مترجم و پژوهشگر حتما ذکر شود.) دربابِ این ترجمه: شعرِ بلند الیوت تا به

16/08/2023

Me. the City. MeThe city. Me. The cityThe city. The city. The city And me.

15/08/2023

BLOCK NO.1 A whole nation put the kindling Which owes you desperately But not specified Whether it's the flint stone Or a kindling stuff? BLOCK NO.2 A piece of my happiness in debt with the flintstone You've turned to rocks But it's for the flintstone BLOCK NO.3 I'm in debt with the flintstone BLOCK...

07/08/2023

ROSA JAMALI The Clock Cell Something happens to die And the sunlight which has been soaking is wet and obscure If I carry on...

03/08/2023

This Dead Body is not an Apple; it's either a Cucumber or a Pear
(Elegy for a Dead Apple)
A Poem by Rosa Jamali
Translated from original Persian into English by the Author

We are mourning but the apple is a cucumber
We are praying
And the apple stops being red.

There are some forks and a platter
And we are peeling the potatoes.

'Enjoy!
My fingers and preserved peach.'

That's how I serve my beloved guests.

We are expecting the apple's death
But the apple is not going to die
We are yawning
Beating the apple
Scratching the apple peal
And extracting the black kernels.

'It's good for cough! '

'You are dying in your black kernels, apple!
You are not suffering
You are dying with no trouble, apple!
Do your last rites, apple! '

This Dead Body is not an Apple; it's either a Cucumber or a Pear.

03/08/2023

The Forbidden City
A poem by Rosa Jamali
Translated from original Persian into English by Rosa Jamali

When I was leaving the city,
From the grey mass stockpiles of cats which are hanging in the parks,
From the stinky smell of the leftovers and rubbish and dirt in the kitchen
It's been about a year nobody has lifted it
With an unusual smell
The pavements are overcrowded with passers-by
The black washing hanging
And dizzy dumb people who have pressed into each other in each move
With a strike
And vertigo
When it's slammed in rush
Your finger is in between
And it has been bruised
When they are all pushing and cramming into the underground station
And a continuous buzz...

From martyrs of Zarrabkhaneh bridge
And martyrs of Pasdaran
And unknown martyrs of the city
And martyrs of the 28th of Tir
And martyrs of the 8th of Tir
And the 20th of Aban
And martyrs of the 9th of Bahman
And martyrs of the 8th of Esfand.

I'm leaving the city...

The station is bursting from slack cements and concrete and my handsfree is not passing the noise,
I'm transforming to the buzzing sound of the highways
This humming which is gloriously disintegrating
It's handsfree's fault that doesn't transmit your voice
And the dust,
And the dust.

I've turned to the remains of the germs which is flying over the helicopters and floating in the air
And this is me!
The city!
This beloved destruction which is coated in charcoal
In petroleum smell and flip tops
Motor oil and the lining
This Beloved darkening destruction
Coated in lead
Deconstructed at the Highway Bridges of Sadr which never ends

'What?
I don't hear
What are saying?
Say it louder! '

Bulldozers line is not going to end
It's been hours that traffic has turned you to a miserable cockroach.

I reached you at the conjunction
You turned into right
I turned into left.

The underground railway
And the trains
Missing minerals in body like silicone
In a mine in the North East of the country
Railways are restricted
Railways are restricted
Railways are restricted
And we'll never join.

Highways are blocked?

You go
Metal tool
Wooden Arrow
Frozen bench
Eyebrow pencil
Lotion
Sunscreen

My lip lines are not correct
Why is it so?

It's been some days that my computer hasn't received anything
Something has been wrecking badly from the roundabout in the North West of city to my lipstick
It has been glued on my face
And it has emerged into my beauty which never breaks up with me

It's going on
And it's been hours that it's going on
It's been hours...

I guess the temperature of the city
Then I went to the lab
The tests say
There is something missing in my body
No anti-oxidant particle is floating skin-deep on me

Me. the City. Me
The city. Me. The city
The city. The city. The city
And me.

I'm not contaminated by this air
I've turned to onion peels and I'm ready to cry
Ready for the earthquakes
And regular accidents
When the bumper is crushed
And the engine is not working
Fixing the body
And fighting
And let it pass
And getting to the final point.

Destruction accomplished?

At this very moment the embryo dies
I'll put a uniform on the city
To send him to school tomorrow

Why doesn't he listen to me?

I'm totally disable
In my ears
And on my hands

They've dislodged pebbles and salt rock in the alleys

When we get to the street at the end of the bridge
We get happy again
And you're like pomegranate seeds shedding inside me

You see how he shivers
His nostrils flickers
You see how he had a crush on me
Moron!

And shopping plastics
Which cannot be displaced on the counters
I cannot count the odd numbers

Now I'm going to spare my whole time on computer games
It's one of those games where you build a house and make a city

Coming Millennium
I wish I could make a city one more time
In this domain of games
And the a house
For my son
That is not born yet
And then I'll tell him
Where I used to live.

Rosa Jamali



شهر ممنوعه | رُزا جمالی

از شهر که می‌رفتم
از بالش خاکستریِ تلی از گربه‌ها و پارک‌های آویزان شده از ته مانده‌ی بو گرفته‌ی زباله‌ها که درآشپزخانه مانده است یک سال و بو گرفته است عجیب و کسی تکانش نمی‌دهد…
از پیاده روهای منفجر شده از آدم و طنابِ سیاهِ رخت و آدم‌های گیج و منگ که فشرده می‌شوند در هر تکانِ شهری و سکته می کنند و دوار سر…
هنگامی که بسته می‌شود به سرعت و انگشت‌ات لایش مانده است به غایت توده‌ای کبود و بنفش ساخته است…
از هجوم این همه آدم سر ریز به ایستگاه متروی شهری
و سوت و سوت و سوت…

از پل شهدای ضرابخانه
و شهدای پاسداران
و شهدای گمنام شهر
و شهیدان بیست و هشت تیر
و شهیدان هشت تیر و
بیست آبان
و شهدای نه بهمن
و شهیدان هشت اسفند.

از شهر می‌روم…

ایستگاه منفجر از بتونِ نرم و شلی ست که کلاهک گوشی‌ام نمی رساندش
به سوت سوتی بدل شده‌ام در بزرگراه‌ها که با افتخار تجزیه می‌شود
مقصر هندز فری ست که صدای تُرا نمی‌رساند
و ای خاک
و ای خاک…

به خاکستر همان ویروسی بدل شدم که در هوای شهر بر فراز هلی‌کوپترها جاری ست
و این من‌ام
شهر
ویرانی عزیزِ زغال اندود شده در بوی بنزین وُ تشتک؛ روغن موتور وُ لنت
ویرانی مکدر وُ عزیز
ویرانی اندود شده در سرب
دیکانستراکت شده در پل طبقاتی صدر که هرگز به اتمام نمی‌رسد.

چی؟
نمی‌شنوم چی می‌گی؟
بلندتر بگو؟

بلدوزرها تمامی ندارند
ترافیک ساعت هاست که تو را به سوسک بیچاره‌ای بدل کرده است.

در تقاطع مشترکی به تو رسیده‌ام
به راست پیچیده بودی
به چپ پیچیده‌ام.

راه آهن زیر زمینی
قطار
عناصری از من که مفقود شده‌اند شبیه سیلیکون در معدنی از شمال شرق کشور
ریل‌ها محدودند
ریل‌ها محدوند
ریل‌ها محدوند
و ما به هم نمی‌رسیم.

بزرگراه مسدود است؟

برو: وسیله‌ی آهنی، تیرِ چوبی، نیمکتِ منجمد ، مدادِ ابرو، لوسیون، ضد آفتاب ؛
خط لب‌ام میزان نیست چرا؟

به رایانامه‌ام نرسیده است هیچ چیز به مّدت چند روز
این دشمنی عظیم از میدانی در شمال غربی شهر ادامه دارد تا آرایش لب‌هام که ساعت هاست چسبیده است بر صورتم
و جزئی از زیبایی من شده و جدا نخواهد شد به هیچ وجه.

ادامه دارد
و ساعت‌هاست که ادامه دارد
و ساعت‌هاست…

من دمای شهر را تخمین زدم
به آزمایشگاه رفتم
لیست آزمایش‌ها از فقدان عنصری در من خبر می‌دادند
تا فقدان کامل آنتی اکسیدان‌ها که در سطح جسمی‌ام شناورند.

من. شهر . من
شهر. من . شهر
شهر. شهر . شهر
و من.

دیگر هوای شهر آلوده‌ام نمی‌کند
به پوست پیازی بدل شده‌ام برای گریه
یا زلزله
و تصادف‌های مرتب
و له شدن سپر
خرابی موتور
و تعمیر بدنه
و جنگ
و گذشتن
و رسیدن.

این ویرانی کامل است آیا ؟

در این لحظه این نطفه‌ی خام که در من است می‌میرد
و من روپوشی تن شهر می‌کنم که فردا به مدرسه بفرستمش.

چرا حرف گوش نمی‌کند؟
که من از دو گوش فلجم
و از دو دستم کور مادرزاد.
در این کوچه ها ریگ ریخته‌اند و سنگ نمک.

به خیابان ته پل که می‌رسیم
دوباره خوشحالیم
که ترا شبیه شعر، شبیه اناری که در من است دانه دانه کرده‌اند…

تک لرزه‌هایش را می‌بینی، در پره‌های بینی‌اش چه می‌لرزد که اینجور عاشق من است بدجور!
و پلاستیک‌های خرید
که بر کانترها جا به جا نمی‌شوند
و این شمارش عجیب که از من بر نمی‌آید.

حالا تمام وقتم را صرف بازی‌های کامپیوتری می‌کنم
از این بازی‌ها که قرار است خانه‌ای بسازی و بعد شهری
هزاره‌ای قریب است
دلم می‌خواست شهری از نو بسازم
درحصار بازی‌هایم
و خانه‌ای
برای پسرم که هنوز به دنیا نیامده است
و تعریف کنم که کجا زیستم من.

Read The Forbidden City poem by Rosa Jamali written. The Forbidden City poem is from Rosa Jamali poems. The Forbidden City poem summary, analysis and comments.

03/08/2023

Read This Dead Body Is Not An Apple; It's Either A Cucumber Or A Pear poem by Rosa Jamali written. This Dead Body Is Not An Apple; It's Either A Cucumber Or A Pear poem is from Rosa Jamali poems. This Dead Body Is Not An Apple; It's Either A Cucumber Or A Pear poem summary, analysis and comments.

31/07/2023

poemhunter.com/rosa-jamali

Rosa Jamali poems, quotations and biography on Rosa Jamali poet page. Rosa Jamali poetry page; read all poems by Rosa Jamali written.

27/07/2023

Rosa Jamali (Born 1977) is an Iranian poet, playwright, and translator. She studied Drama & Literature at the Art University of Tehran and holds a Master's degree in English literature from TEHRAN University. She has published volumes of

21/07/2023

Visual ErrorA poem by Rosa JamaliTranslated from original Persian into English by the authorRight at the center of universeThey opened my tied hands And they...

21/07/2023

The Fern A Poem by Rosa JamaliTranslated from original Persian to English by the AuthorI was a seven-story being, covered in scarce species of a plantAnd it...

07/01/2023

Share on FacebookFollow on FacebookAdd to Google+Connect on Linked inSubscribe by EmailPrint This Post Trivandrum: K M Anthru Foundation, Trivandrum , Kerala announced Antonino Contiliano (Italy), Ivan Arguelles (United States) and Rosa Jamali (Iran) as the Golden three litterateurs shortlisted for....

07/01/2023

La prima tv in provincia di Trapani

07/01/2023

Golden Three for K M Anthru International Literature Prize 2022 announced by Admin | Jan 5, 2023 | Announcements | 0 comments K M Anthru Foundation, Trivandrum , Kerala announced Antonino Contiliano (Italy), Ivan Arguelles (United States) and Rosa Jamali (Iran) as the Golden three litterateurs short...

31/12/2022

K M ANTHRU INTERNATIONAL LITERATURE PRIZE are awarded to the great masters of literature and Arts who dedicated their life to literature and contributed comp...

12/12/2022

We present this work in honor of the poet’s 45th birthday. Facing the airport, all that’s now left in my graspis a crumpled landthat fits in the palm of my hand. Facing wavering sunbeams—a …

20/09/2022

Rosa Jamali is a renowned writer in contemporary Iran; she is often considered as the most important female figure in the Present-day Poetry of Iran. She stu...

10/08/2022

Rosa Jamali (Born 1977) is an Iranian poet, playwright, and translator. She studied Drama & Literature at the Art University of Tehran and holds a Master's d...

23/07/2022

~ Rumi ❤️❤️

23/07/2022

- Rumi ❤

04/07/2022

Pippa Rann Books & Media. 2021. 176 pages.

17/06/2022

The Second Cabinet
Mitra Davar
Translated by Amir Marashi

04/06/2022

Rosa Jamali (Irán)