Meek Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

Meek

When entered in Russia
Knew not words, nor how
The Russians, Soviets
Spent time and lived there.

To me they, could be the
Shahnameh's white demons
(That belonged to Alborz!)

Saddled and galloped, wished
To find source, prove this.

Found me job as teacher;
Students, my teachers,
Were great and selflessness
Professors and the mentors
That cleaned the path, way
For the tongue of the day,
Which helped me socialise
And penetrate the hearts of
That absorbed by pains of
Corruptions and the lies
That harnessed men, women;
Government's, Civilians…

Now and then I read the
Great books that had read
Rereading was needed
To find the characters;
"Idiot" and "Meek Man."

For research I spent
A long time in Peter
Nearly for six years!

Worked in a restaurant,
As Tex-Mex manager;
And I faced stories
With workers, customers
As well as the bandits…


To adopt myself with
The authors' time, style
Went to what is left as
Their houses, museums.

Saw and felt черная дверь
And the worn officer…

To see him at Niva
Went there and stood by
When ended the winter
And with sun got warmer
To break ice blocks;
And there was Dostoevsky.

In my mind Lev Tolstoy
And Chekhov to Maxim
And Pushkin, as father.
Authors' list was endless.

With this I ended in Cathedral
Named after "Saint Isaac"
Where I spent days and nights
Of more than full six months…

Now looking back in time,
Glancing at books, I
Gather the pictures of
The gone by in the shelves.

They call me: "You, expert! "

With water in his lung
I talk with Rasputin
Of Lenin, October,
Bolsheviks and escapes…

See no end in research
When recall doing same
In Lima and La Paz…

I must be Idiot, and the Meek…