Yasmin Roshanian at Off Assignment:
Farsi is a language of tenderness. It is an infusion of poetry and humor, the intersection of everything human. “Jigareto Bokhoram”—which translates to “let me eat your liver”—is an expression of endearment. A person who is “bi Namak” is “without salt”: dull, the antithesis of charming. You could say “I love you,” or you could say, “I am willing to sacrifice myself for you” (“fadat besham”). There is an inherent desperation in how we express our love and utter our devotion. I think about what it means to live in the currents of this language. To speak with such longing, reaching. It is a reverence that feels impossible to touch.
“Darde ghorbat”—the sorrow of exile, of being in a foreign land—is the phrase that stings the most. Like most of the Farsi that has been fed to me, “darde ghorbat” is a phrase I learned from my parents. My dad is a stoic man, but when he’s talking about Iran, I can see the most wounded parts of him.
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