In the northern city of Tonekabon,
there’s a vineyard, where
my madarbozorg, grandmother,
They were so juicy
plucked, peeled, eaten,
so enjoyably sour,
It’s been a while.
But I’m sure they were
Now when I eat kiwifruit,
from the store, not pulled from
I say: “Next year in Shahsavar!”
I’ve been saying it
so many years.
Shahsavar was the name of a city in the Mazandaran province in Northern Iran. After the revolution, the city’s name was changed to Tonekabon.
This poem was published in Hawk and Whippoorwill, Summer 2018, Volume 3, Number 1: