by Mansour Khaksar

Mansour Khaksar (1939-2010, standing right in photo) was a well-known Iranian poet living in Los Angeles since 1990. He was a member of "Saturdays' Notebooks", an Iranian literary circle in LA as well as a co-editor of the literary organ of "Iranian Writers' Association in Exile". Mansour has published a dozen of collections of poetry including Traveling in the Mist, The Angelenos, and Up to This Point. He killed himself on Thursday, March 18, 2010 in orange County, leaving behind his wife and three daughters. A memorial will be held for him on April 18, in Los Angeles. The poems below were translated by Majid Naficy in October 2008.


With a ballpoint pen

Incidentally dark

I sign the manuscript

That he has put in front of me

And I am familiar with its text.

He is not more than a lad

With big eyes

Who ignores my trembling fingers

And stares at my name

Which I've put near my signature.

A giddy billy goat goes uphill

I measure his speed

And the air

Which is still dark.

So That Tree Would Grow

He worked hard

With the help of water and clouds

So that tree would grow tall

And give him shade to rest.

But death grew in every leaf

And the tree dried out.

He gave up

and painted the house

with a white brush.

But neither the cold died out

Nor the night came to an end.



Thank you

by Ramona on

I was saddened by the news of Khasar's suicide when I first read it. I knew his poetry and translations.

May he rest in peace,