Pouran K. Akhlaghi (1944-1990)‎

The Night of the Ends…‎

She shone all her life,

Protecting me,

And she gave away

Her last glimmer,

Saving me…‎

She followed him,

On that night of the ends — ‎

The end of

‎            The flight of the dove,

The end of
‎            The song of the star…‎

Left behind
You could find
A mirage,
An echo,
And the mirage of an echo...

It's all for you...

Aziz Akhlaghi (1928-1990)‎

The End of the Dove…‎ ‎

He loved as he walked,‎

And he flew away,‎

When the roads

Closed on him –‎ ‎

Overnight. ‎

I close my eyes, and ‎

I hear his voice, ‎
I see his smile, ‎

I taste the smell of his wings, ‎

I sense his pride –‎
When I sang or played. ‎

All the time, it feels, ‎

He’s been around, ‎

He’s been alive.‎

‎ ‎
Yet, for nine years and ten, ‎
It seems, he's never aged.‎..‎

Photo: © Rob Palmer. Digital modification for P.R. by P.A.

Sar Oumad Zemestoun (Winter Is Over)

The melody of Sar Oumad Zemestoun is of Armenian folk origin. In the 1970's, an unknown lyricist added the currently well-known Persian lyrics to the song. It has been revived in 2009 as the de facto anthem of the Green Movement in Iran.

The current transcription was based on two recent performances. Instrumental bridges have been excluded. Attempt was made to notate the melody as accurately as possible, and to have it fit on a single page, for ease of distribution. I dedicate the score to the democratic movement of Iran, and to the more than hundred of Armenians who were killed on July 14th, 2009, in a tragic plane crash near Tehran.

"نت موسیقی "سر اومد زمستون
The Score of Sar Oumad Zemestoun
[Also: Sar Oomad Zemestoon in PDF]

The PDF version of the score is available at Scribd or MediaFire, to download and print for free.

The Sibelius file of the score is available here for free. (Requires the free installation of Scorch.)

(You can also click the picture above to print a JPG version, ableit of a lesser quality.)

Edward Downes, Conductor (1924-2009)

(Sir Edward Downes and Lady Downes; Photo, BBC News)

Sir Edward Downes (1924-2009) was a famed British conductor, who for years worked as the principal conductor of the BBC Philharmonic Orchestra (1980-1991).

In early 1990's, by then in Los Angeles, I came to own an astonishing recording of Sergei Rachmaninov's Symphony No. 2, in E minor, conducted by the maestro. The recording is sublime, engaging, unforgettable. Its fluidity of dynamics and its masterly balance of contrapuntal lines are hauntingly beautiful. You couldn't have wished for more. It remains one of my all time favorite recordings of any symphonic composition.

As I read in the news, on Friday, July 10th, 2009, after 54 years of marriage, he and his wife calmly left the world by their choice, assisted by the services of a dedicated Swiss clinic. The report struck me as a most honorable message of civility, and a most courageous affirmation of life, freedom and human dignity. This was an inspiring climax for a life spent in making sense of the world through arts, a life devoted to the love of a woman, and to the intimate art of music.

-- Payman Akhlaghi, Wednesday, July 15th, 2009
(Revised: February 18th, 2015)

Corrigendum: In my late teens, while still in Iran, I was introduced to a large array of the classical symphonic repertoire, by name and description, through a (partial) translation of an original book in English. It was a collection of essays and (radio?) commentaries, written by the American musicologist, Edward Downes (1911-2001), under the original title "Adventures in Symphonic Music" (1944). It would take me years before I could hear many of those pieces live or in recordings, but the impact of his vibrant, imaginative prose, and his love for the sheer beauty of this music would never leave me.

However, not until I had received his "Guide to Symphonic Music" (1976) on February 18th, 2015, would I realize that I had wrongly identified the author of that book as Sir Edward Downes (1924-2009), the famed British conductor, and the subject of this post. This gross misconception was boldly reflected in the original version of the post on July 15th, 2009.

As such, hereby, I wish to correct the error made in the original version of this short note. You may see Wikipedia.org for more biographical information on each respective figure. Thank you.

-- Payman Akhlaghi, February 18th, 2015, Los Angeles

Aaron Copland: "A Lincoln Portrait"

A masterpiece of modern times, Lincoln Portrait was composed in 1942 by the American composer, Aaron Copland (1900-1990). It's well known for its genuine use of narrated text interacting with the orchestra, as well as its uplifting patriotic tone. The text was written by Copland himself, using quotations from Abraham Lincoln's writings and recorded speeches. Some eloquent voices have so far recited the work, including actors Gregory Peck and Henry Fonda. The above clip, narrated by actress, Katharine Hepburn, begins a few minutes into the piece, after a most imaginative orchestral introduction.

The composition ends in a crescendo to Lincoln's timeless words, "...the government of the people, by the people, and for the people, shall not perish from the earth."

(*) Update! Since the publication of this note, the video featured in this post has been removed. Please don't be disappointed; find another link on YouTube, or even better, purchase a CD of the work. Just a few days ago, on July 2nd, 2010, I heard another wonderful version played on KUSC (91.5 FM), the classical music station of Los Angeles, also streaming on KUSC.org. It was narrated by James Earl Jones, with Seatlte Symphony, conducted by Gerard Schwarz. In this particular case, the ethnic background of the narrator made the impact of the composition even more profound. (The veteran actor is of African American descent.)

Happy 4th of July 2010!

Cold Veins of Pomegranates (Original Poem)

رگهای سرد انار
شعری از پیمان اخلاقی
برای قربانیان بی گناه خشونت های جاری در ایران

Cold Veins of Pomegranates

A Poem by Payman Akhlaghi
For the Innocent Lives,
Lost in the Ongoing Brutalities in Iran

دیروز
رنگ انار
رنگ لباس عروسکها،
رنگ کفشهای دخترکان،
رنگ گونه های سرخ شدۀ زمستانی،
رنگ هلهلۀ عصرانۀ کودکانی بود
که برای هم گلولۀ برفی پرتاب می کردند،
و رنگ شبانۀ رؤیای خورشید بود،
آنگاه که خسته از بازی
همه آرام خفته بودند…‏

دیروز
رنگ انار
رنگ سیرابیِ عطش،
رنگ زندگی، هوس،
رنگ آرزو،
رنگ غروب عشق بود…‏

امروز
رنگ انار
رنگ خشکیدۀ ترس در خیابانها است،
رنگ انتقام،
رنگ خشم،
رنگ کین توزی عفریت تعصب است.‏

امروز
رنگ انار
رنگ انتظار دخترکی است
که کنار جوی،
به نظارۀ آدمها ایستاده است،
و رنگ چشمان گرگی است
که از فراز پشت بام
نگاه حسرت
بر لبانش می دوزد
و گلوله
بر سینه اش.‏
امروز
رنگ انار
رنگ طغیان خون
از دهان دخترک،
و رنگ دَلمۀ مرگ
بر گونه های او است...‏

رنگ انار
امروز
رنگ نالۀ برّه هایی است
که به کشتارگاه گرد آمده اند
و فردا
رنگ
سکوتشان…


‏پیمان اخلاقی
شنبه، بیستم ژوئن ٢٠٠٩‏
لس آنجلس

June 20th, 2009, Los Angeles
‎© Copyright: 2009, Payman Akhlaghi. All rights reserved.‎

Introduction (6)

Part 6: Rimonim, Chests of Rubies

Ever since a child, I have been taken by the sheer beauty of ripe pomegranates (انار). That dark-red, translucent, juicy flesh, called the “aril”, which belies the hardness of the white seed inside, shines so brightly, like a polished piece of jewelry, and it fills me with joy and an ethereal pleasure. It’s a constant delight to graciously hold one in the light, marvel at its perfection of color and texture, enjoy its soft touch, feel a rich man for a brief moment — before passing it on from the eyes to the teeth. It could taste punishingly sour, deliciously sweet, or somewhere in between, and the white seed would invariably taste bitter. Yet, it’s the enduring memory of that fleeting beauty which makes the experience linger, long after the taste has faded away. Fortunately, there’s more left in the chest to behold…

Introduction (5)

Part 5: Pardess, a Global Nexus ‎

In pardess, the past and the present, the East and the West, the Heavens and the Earth, ‎converge. Pardess reminds us constantly of the material origins of the idea of a Paradise; ‎of how the latter word and concept, in some ways common to virtually all cultures today, began life in the beautiful gardens of an ancient Persian Empire. In the process, by the mere use of this word, the Hebrew Bible has also made the memory of some rare good days in the Jewish Diaspora indelible from the pages of history.

Thus, for an Iranian-American-Jewish person, this single Hebrew word can find much significance not only as an imprint of many centuries of the Diaspora and the influence of other cultures, but also as an homage and gratitude toward man’s kindness, paid via beauty, elegance, grace and inspiration.

In one word, languages intersect, cultures overlap, memories unfold. In one word, we say to the world our history—our story.

Introduction (4)

Part 4: Paradeisos: Why?

 It’s said that “The Septuagint Translation” was begun by seventy Jewish scholars in the 3rd century B.C.E., to the order of the Greek King of Egypt. If so, using a Greek word of Persian origin as the synonym for Eden could suggest an intention beyond mere linguistic considerations or exotic evocations. Elsewhere, the Jewish Bible, often cautious of other cultures, had openly paid gratitude to the era of Cyrus the Great, the man who had liberated the Jewish people from the tyranny of Babylon. In their view, the recent collapse of the Persian Empire in the hands of Alexander the Great was in effect perceived as the end of the freedom afforded them by the Achaemenid Dynasty. Introducing paradeisos into the beginning chapters of the Greek Genesis could have well been a tacit means to further commemorate an endeared, but by then, defeated empire.

Even the earlier appearance of pardess in the Hebrew Bible implies more than a natural lexicographic absorption by the contemporary writer(s); rather, it could well indicate another example of the Jewish admiration for the culture that had once given them back a rare taste of freedom.

Introduction (3)

Part 3: Pardess vs. Paradise

 As centuries passed, pairi-daēza evolved not only in form, but also in content. Over time, it grew farther away from the concrete reality of the Persian imperial gardens, and instead, it turned into the abstract fantasy of an intangible ideal, an eternal existence, an afterlife, The Heaven—The Paradise. This process began plausibly when “The Septuagint Translation” used the Greek version paradeisos as the synonym for the Biblical Garden of Eden, itself described to have been physically located somewhere in the Mesopotamia (Genesis, 2:8-14). On the other hand, the Hebrew pardess (“orchard” or “garden”) went on to preserve something close to the original sense of pairi-daēza and its material beauty for posterity, as this word had already entered directly into the lexicon of the Jewish Bible.

The emerging idea of a coming Paradise would allow the common man to find a place for his frustrated desires, so desperately out of his reach. Fantasies of exotic gardens, distant in time and space, could have naturally acted as the nucleus of such sweet dreams. Along with the spread of the Greco-Latin Bible, The Garden of Eden, i.e. paradeisos, gradually lost its earthly roots, and instead, it became relocated to a far-away place, equally unattainable to man. As such, the first Greek translation of the Jewish Bible became the portal through which pairi-daēza began its long journey toward today’s pervasive, abstract notion of a Paradise. And yet, within the Hebrew text itself, pardess has continued to remind us of the origins of this Paradise, untouched by metaphysical transformations, somewhere on the earth, in our past, and in our dreams.

Introduction (2)

Part 2: Pardess, Origins and Import

Pardess is an ancient Hebrew word. It’s a pregnant word. Its sound is pleasant to the ear, even as its meaning recalls beautiful sights. Moreover, it carries within her the continuous trace of more than 2500 years of Jewish Diaspora and its widespread influence on world culture. Specifically, it stands glaringly at the intersection of multiple identities of the Iranian American Jewish people, secular and religious alike.

The Hebrew word pardess began life about 500 BC in the Old Persia as pairi-daēza, the “enclosed gardens” of the nobility of the Achaemenid (Hakhamaneshian) Empire. These were ancient predecessors of modern European gardens and parks, in which the shade of trees and the aroma of colorful flowers came together in harmonious arrangements around appeasing patterns of irrigation systems. The Persian word pairi-daēza was later transplanted into Greek by Xenophon as paradeisos, in which form it entered into the lexicon of the oldest Greek translation of the Hebrew Bible, known as the "Septuagint Translation". Eventually, it branched out through the Late Latin paradīsus into the Old French and English paradis, the Italian paradiso, and the Modern English Paradise.

Concurrently, pairi-daēza survived in later stages of Persian language itself, partly in a diminished form as pardiss, and centuries later, in its Arabic transformations as fardiss and ferdows. Thus, it seems that the Biblical pardess was an early Hebrew variation on the original form of the word, which was then absorbed by the contemporary writer(s) of Shir ha-Shirim, “The Song of Songs.”

Introduction (1)

Part 1: Pardess Rimonim (פרדס רימונים)

Literally translated as “A Pomegranate Grove” or “An Orchard of Pomegranates” (Persian: "باغ انار"), this mellifluous expression appears as such in “The Song of Songs”, also known as “The Song of Solomon”, one of the thirteen books that form the third section of the Hebrew Bible, i.e. Ketuvim or “The Writings”. There [4:12-13], the male voice praises his beloved in the sweetest of words, in part describing her as “a locked garden” whose “shoots (or fields, depending on the translation) are like an orchard of pomegranates.”

[A list of referenced sources will be included with the last post of the Introduction.]