CHEL

March 17, 2020

Chel is Shahin Najafi’s 12th album and the first track of this album was released on March 17, 2020.

Beshmar - 1st Track
Shahin Najafi: Music, Lyrics
Habib Meftah: Percussion, & Flute  
Babak Rezvani: Mixing & Mastering
Translation: Nik Rastin
Ali Baghban: Cover
Dyaloge Limited


بشمار
اولین قطعه از آلبوم چل


شعر درمون نیس دردیه معجون
  از غم و خشم  و جنون
معدوم
اونکه می‌بازه سر و تو هنر  پس
معلومه
محصول فاسد مزرعه حاصل کار یه مشت فاسده مقصود
پول
مشکوک
مسؤل
معشوق
مشتری
موردی مصرفی
دولت
مقروض
ملت
مغضوب
کاسب حرمت داره اونکه می‌دوشتت فرضش این که گاوی
گف نقشت چیه رهبری؟ گفتم نه بگو آقای راوی
چش و چالا از اسید له
بی‌چاره‌ای تو مسیر مه
مشق مرگ
اشک سرد
رد خون
رو ورق
پشت و نگاه نکن برنگردد
فامیلِ من بود اونکه بی‌جون تا پشت میله رفت و سر داد
تکلیف ما با خون تو خیابون روشن میشه سردار
نه بدن ضعیف از تزریق
نه بذل و بخشش نه تشویق
تاریخ بخونه شرح حال مارو
فردا بشنون این واژه‌هارو
بشمار
بشمار بدن بچه‌های بی‌کفن تو نیزار و
بشمار  صدای کارگر عزادار و
بشمار  گلوی بریده‌ی بی‌آزارو
بشمار


زندگی رو طناب ته دره ،این و اونو بنداز تا نیفتی
نصف دیگش زیر حلقه‌ی دار و ‌ بن بست بند و شام 
مفتی
فردا این جوجه زامبیا از تخم درآن شاخن برات
دستت داره دور گردنا اون دستا هم دارن برات


لیلامون بورسیه نداشت پدرش بیزنس روسیه نداشت
از جیب ضعفا نزد و خونه، مغازه و ارثیه نذاشت


محسن ما کف دستش خطخطی بود  از کار بی‌دستکش
...لات اجاره‌ای نبود خم شه کرنش کنه پیش هر
پیشکشتون سینه سوراخ استخونا شکسته سر گل داد
سیرِ به وقتش سهمشو خورد و گشنه رو جلو گلوله هل داد


سهم من یه باک بنزین شانس مدد کنه خرجی بدنت
صبر من تیز  رو زمین ضعیف کشتی خوردی زدنت
دستامون که گره شه به هم سیل بغض ملت رها شه
حکم ماس مشت اول انگشت وسط روی ماشه

نه وقت مرثیه پرثیه هست تفنگ و پر کن از  خشم کوچه
ترک تحصیل
 تلخ  تحقیر
طرد و تحمیل
بی صدا هارو  صدا کن
پاپتی‌های بی‌فردارو
بشمار  مغز پاشیده زیر پارو
بشمار گوله تو گلبرگ «پویا»رو
بشمار 
 خالد احمد رضا
 آرمین آرین حسام
ساسان نیکتا امیر پژمان میلاد عدنان مجبتی حسن کاوه یونس جبار سلمان عمران
پر کینه‌ام رو به دشمنی که غاصب آزادی منه

مسئله‌ی اول و آخر عدالت، آزادی میهنه
 

Count!
 

Poetry is not the remedy, it’s a pain, a mixture of sorrow, rage and madness
One who loses their life in Art, is exterminated Then it’s clear that
the rotten crop of the farm is the outcome of the labor of a bunch of corrupted The aim (is the)
Money (which is)
suspicious
The responsible (is)
the beloved (who is the)
customer (who is)
utilized as disposable
The government (is)
indebted
The nation (is)
disfavored
The (real) tradesman has dignity, the one who milks (exploits) you, assumes that you’re a cow! They asked what your rule is, are you a leader? I said no! Call me “Mr. Narrator”!
The eyes are chinked by acid
You are helpless in the misty road
Practicing dying
Cold tears
Bloodstain
on the paper
Don’t look back, don’t turn
They were of my family who feebly went behind the bars and lost their lives
Hey General! We’ll sort things out about the blood on the streets!
Count!
The body is not weak of (drug) injections
Don’t forget! Don’t forgive! Don’t encourage doing so!
The history shall read our story
They would hear these words
Count!
Count the coffin-less bodies in the canebrake!
Count the shouts of the mourning laborers!
Count the innocent throats which were cut!
Count!
Life is like a rope down the vale, shove the others down so that you won’t fall!
The rest of the rope is a gallows, a prison with
free meals!
Tomorrow these Zambi-Chickens will bully you, when they hatch from their eggs!
Your hands are gallows around the necks, these hands will have a plan (a gallows) for you too! Our “Leila” had no scholarship, her father had no business with Russia
She didn’t rob the poor, she had neither property, nor inheritance
Our “Mohsen” had scars on his palms, because of laboring without gloves
He wasn’t a hired villain who bows before any ...
Dedicated to you a shot chest, the broken bones and a head which flowered (splattered)
The satiate one ate their share at its time and shoved the hungry one towards the bullets
My share is (just) a full petrol tank, if luck is on my side I would spend (splash) it on your body My patience is (like) a knife on the ground, you killed the weak, (now) you’ll pay back!
When our hands become united fists, when the flood of people’s anger releases
Our verdict is the first punch, (and) the middle fingers on the triggers
It’s no time of mourning, load the gun with the rage of the street!
(You) dropped out of school
(You were) humiliated
(You were) rejected and imposed
Call the voiceless!
(Call) the homeless of tomorrow!
Count the splattered brains on the ground!
Count the bullets to “Pooyas”’s petal (body)!
Count!
“Khalid”, “Ahmad”, “Reza”
“Arian”, “Armin”, “Hesam”
“Sasan”, “Nikta”, “Amir”, “Pejman”, “Milad”, “Adnan”, “Mojtaba” “Hasan”, “Kaveh”, “Yunus”, “Jabar”, “Salman”, “Omran” *1

I’m full of grudge, facing the enemy who’s seizing my freedom

The first and last matter is justice, and homeland’s freedom

---
1. Names of some protesters who were killed recently by the Islamic government in Iran.
Translation: Nik Rastin

Sodom - 2nd Track of Chel Album

Shahin Najafi: Music, Lyrics
Habib Meftah: Percussion, & Flute  
Babak Rezvani: Mixing & Mastering, Guitar
Translation: Nik Rastin
Ali Baghban: Cover
Dyaloge Limited


سدوم


شرمنده اهل امید نیستم 
امید شهری بود که سوزوندنش
گفتن اهالیش مفید نیستن 
نمی‌ارزه جون کندنش
خاکی بود دوزار دهشی هرچی بود  بوی مامان داشت
بابا شکسته بود اما شکست نخورده بود  هنوز توان داشت
عصر طلایی این و اون نبود
  سختی بود نون نبود
هنوز رو بود اونقد که سود بده کار
مملکت شیرای پیر
گرگای جوون
جون‌ ارزون   آرزو گرون

آینده یعنی فردا پاشی پنجره‌های خونه سالم باشن
شب چشای کارگر پدر   با صدای آژیر پاشن
صف بربری شیر فاسد دلهره‌ی‌ طعم تلخ چک داداش
تخم دزدی غاز حامله  از لای سفیدیای پرهاش
پرخاش بود ولی مزه داش توی کوچه‌ی بچگی سنگ خوردن
آسمون کوتاه بود آویزوون کامیونا شدن و مردن
شست پات تو فوتبال بره از اجبار عشقش چپ پا شی
شب تو لباس  ملوان بخوابی و صب تو شورت آلمان پاشی 
 داغ
خشخاشی
  مث پوست بدن اولین دختر 
اولین  گناه بوسه
خوردن سیبای کوچیک کوثر
تو حیاط
یادت میاد
نامه‌های عاشقانه‌ی یه نیمچه شاعر شرور و عصبانی
تعبیر  معلمی که دوسش داشتم آقای قربانی
آب و باز کرد و دندون مصنوعیو‌ انداخت توی لیوان 
دارایی واقعیش اون بود از زندگی ساخت ایران
باز نشست تا بازنشستگی فرجی کنه توی قرضاش
باز  نشد چشاش و گره‌هاش جا مونده ازقلب قرصاش
چرا گریم گرفت؟
 گیرم لنگ پنجاه تومنی تو هم واسه شام
چرا گریم نگیره وقتی دستم بسته‌اس و بازه چشام؟
شرمنده اهل امید نیستم 
امید شهری بود که  نفس نداشت
خفگی رنگ سبز سپاهی بود
که واسه جوونی هوس نذاشت
من قرآن و خوب بلدم حافظ نیستم اما از حفظم
قرار بود که پشتم باشه و تحلیل برم توش بکنه حفظم
ولی لذت توی شعره که تخریب هم روح و هم جسممه
شاهین، دو شاه شکست خورده‌ی درونم  روی اسممه
تو مسیر تبعیدم خانی کردم تا شاه شم
حق با من بود تو این انتخاب سخت رضا یا میرزاشم نه؟
یا سرمو بزنه شاه یا شاه شمو سر بزنم
من هرچی بودم بنده‌ی ملتمس درگاه نشدمو پاشمو در بزنم
بچگی کردم و پاش موندم بزرگی به بزرگ‌سالی که نیس
گفتن: به کجا رسیدی؟ 
!موندم
به یه قلب ریش 
به چشای خیس
نه هنر ،سیاست و‌فلسفه بازی زشتی که بچه‌ جاش نیست
همسن انقلابی‌ام که شبیه هیچکدوم از بچه‌هاش نیست
مث اون پدر شهید که یه لنگه کفش میراث بچشه
تو خیالم هنوز جنگه و نگرانم پسرم کفش پاش نیست
بوی کافور و گلاب  پاهای سرد سردخونه آخر خط
بوی ناجور کباب پاهای زرد ترکیده‌ی ممد
قاتل نصف شهر موتور  بود و نصف دیگه روو عرق و مواد
تو دریا می‌شد غرق شی یا تو رویای یه زندگی شاد
به کجا رسیدم؟
 به پشت سبیلام
به دیسک وسیاتیک و بواسیر
به یه چشم خون به شهر ناامید
به مرگ تنهایی تو تبعید
ترسیدم
باد می‌بره آدمو
می‌برّه آدم
میترسیدم آینده چاه شه  نباشیم
یا اینکه بمیریم و دوباره توی این زندگی شوم پاشیم
بلعیدم آب و
نفس کشیدم تا قایق حراست رد شه
ماهی تو تور من 
ماهیگیر تو تور  خدا
ای خدا
رد شه
 


Sodom *1

Sorry! I’m no fan of hope
Hope was a city, which they burned down
They said its inhabitants are not utile
It’s not worth moiling (for it)
It was some soil, worthless, but at least had the Mom’s scent
Dad was broken, but not defeated yet, he had still power
It wasn’t the golden era of his and hers (Khomeini), there were adversity, but no bread
(But) it was clear that working would bring some benefits
The land of the old lions
Young wolves!
Life (was) cheap, desire (was) costly
The future means when you wake up tomorrow, the windows are still intact!
At night the laboring eyes of father awake with the (air raid) siren’s noise!
The long queue at the bakery, (then buying some) spoiled milk, anguished over the bitter taste of the brother’s slap (on my face)
Stealing an egg from a pregnant goose, right through her white feathers!
It was rough, but pleasurable, being hit by the stones (while playing) in the alley of childhood
The sky was falling down, hitching ride on the back of the lorries and die!
Losing your big toe in soccer, then become a left-footed player for your severe passion for it
You go to bed wearing “Malavan”’s 2 jerseys, next morning you wake up wearing Germany’s shorts! Hot
Poppy (bread)
Like the skin of the first girl
First sin, a kiss
Eating “Kowsar”’s tiny apples (sucking her breasts)
In the garden
Do you remember?

Romantic letters of a “rebellious frantic half-poet”!
(It was) the interpretation of a teacher whom I liked, Mr. “Ghorbani”
(He) opened the water (tap) and threw his dentures in the glass
It was his real property of the made-in-Iran life!
He went on retirement so that the pension would untie his debts’ Gordian knot!
The knots and his eyes weren’t opened, he lagged behind the pills for his heart!
Why did I start crying? Supposedly you need five dollars for a meal
Why shouldn’t I start crying, when my hands are cuffed and my eyes are open?
Sorry! I’m no fan of hope
Hope was a breathless city
Suffocation had an Army green 3 color,
which took the youth their passion away
I know the Quran very well, I’m not “Hafez” 4 but I know (the story) by heart
It was supposed to back me up, then I’d dissolve in it, it’d protect me
But the delight is in the poetry, which is the demolition of my body and soul
“Shahin” 5, two defeated inner kings of mine, are in my name
On my exile path, I acted as a master to become a king
It was my right, through this tough choice, to be either “Reza” 6 or “Mirza” 7
Either I should lean on King’s head or I shall become the king and cut the heads off!
Whoever I was, I neither became the supplicant servant in royal court nor I knocked the (palace) door I was childish and insisted on it. To be an adult (great person) doesn’t depend on the age!
They asked: “What have you achieved so far?” I had nothing to say!
I’ve achieved a shredded heart
I’ve attained wet eyes
Not Art, not Politics and not Philosophy! They’re awful games, no place for kids
I’m the same age as the revolution, which isn’t alike its children
(I’m) like a martyr’s father, whose son’s leftover is just a lone shoe
I think the war goes on and I’m worried that my son has no shoes on!
The smell of camphor and rosewater, the cold feet in the morgue at the end of the road

The awful smell of “Mamad”’s blistered yellow feet
Motorcycle was the murderer of half of the town’s people, the other half were killed by booze and drugs You could drown in sea or in the dream of a happy life!
Where have I reached so far? Well, (I’m) behind my mustache!
(I’ve achieved) the Slipped Discs, Sciatica and Hemorrhoid
(I’ve reached) the death, loneliness in exile
I feared
The wind takes you
You’d back down
I was worried (for you) that the future becomes a deep well, we disappear
Or we die and wake up again in this ominous life
I swallowed water
I breathed until the coastguard leaves
The fish in my net
The fisher in the God’s trawl
Oh, God!
I wish it’d go away!

 


1. The cities of “Sodom” and “Gomorrah” are mentioned in Torah, Bible and Quran which were destroyed by the will of God due to their Inhabitants’ great sins.
2. Malavan F.C is an Iranian football club based in Bandar-e Anzali, northern Iran.
3. Referring to the uniform color of the “Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps” (IRGC), which plays an important role in suppression of civil protests in Iran.
4. A. Famous Persian poet (1315 – 1390) B. Someone who has completely memorized the Quran.
5. In Persian “Shah” means King. In Arabic the suffix “-in” (-ein) forms a dual noun (= two Kings).
6. “Reza Shah Pahlavi”, known as “Reza Khan” (15 March 1878 – 26 July 1944), was the King of Iran from 15 December 1925 until he was forced to abdicate by the Anglo-Soviet invasion of Iran on 16 September 1941.
7. “Mirza Kuchak Khan Jangali” (1880 – December 2, 1921) was an early twentieth century revolutionary leader who fought against the government forces led by colonel “Reza Khan” (the future Reza Shah Pahlavi).


Translation: Nik Rastin

Copyright © 2008-2020 Shahin Najafi. All Rights Reserved.   |   Privacy Policy   |  Terms of Service  |  Contact