Agar ḥāfiẓah yārī kunad: Persian 1401

Exile divides every person, especially every writer; One part is the past that you used to think about with your own language and it is a part of your identity, and the other is the present in which you try to live and remember with confusion and stuttering. Joseph Brodsky, the 1987 Nobel Prize in Literature, stand in such a place. Although his life was tied to Russia even in exile, he never accepted the Soviet government; Although he went to America, he was not captured by Westernism; Although he said it belonged to the Russian language, he wrote in English. It was this incomprehension that became the springboard for his quests, to be saved from the cruel grip of memories in the new language and to be able to take hold of them again, to build a new home for himself: this time in a new language, with the clay of literature, under the roof of a new memory.